MY GARDEN. 2
There are robins in my garden,sparrows, blue tits too.
From out my kitchen window
used to be my favourite view.
But the sparrowhawk comes calling,
like a supersonic jet.
I've tried to thwart his actions
but I haven't managed yet.
The crafty hawk has learned to come
he visits every day.
He sees the feeders in my trees
as his "fast food take-away."
I have to take it on the chin,
nature can be cruel.
Dog eat dog and bird eat bird,
each living thing needs fuel.
I can cope with cruel nature,
though I sometimes shed a tear...
it's human interference
that's the worst thing now, round here.
Behind my little bungalow,
the Council thought it wise
to build enormous family homes,
the sight now blights my eyes.
Built too close for comfort,
towering overhead -
tenants shouting, swearing,
it fills my heart with dread.
Loud "music" in the summer,
screaming kids galore.
I wish that there was still the peace
that once was here before.
Satellite dishes now adorn
the view I see each dusk and dawn.
My garden now, I just avoid,
my life, of pleasure now devoid.
Rural England's disappearing,
our Green Belt being raped.
It seems our local planners
from Assylums have escaped!
Poetry by normalil
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Written on 2015-07-13 at 14:02
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Jamsbo Rockda |
Elle |
ken d williams |