As humans, we often write poetry to help process and make sense of the world around us. Back in the 1800s during the Romantic era, we wrote a lot about how sublime the world was. William Wordworth’s The Prelude is basically a love letter to Earth and nature. However, as we’re in the midst of a climate crisis, the way we write about our planet is changing.
Words are powerful, so here are five poems about climate change to change the way you think.
Ruth Padel – Water is Company
You close your eyes so you can’t see the omen.
You try praying for rain
You wait for an augury, sing to the brook
while the self flies out and away
like a bird from a withered branch
and the wind, with a hollow sound
like a breaking pot, whips the lake to a dance
of bubble-froth soap-suds, blocking the drain.
Sophie E. Valdez – Mother Earth
The land is in a constant state of birth,
Giving life to all who live on Earth.
Our carelessness and fears
Have taken a toll over the years.
Her land is parched and scorched
As man continues to light the torch.
We continue a want of speed and ease,
All while our pesticides kill off our bees.
It’s time to wake up and see Mother Earth’s pain.
Humanity’s selfishness is becoming insane.
Soon her cries will turn to gloom,
And man will cause its own doom.
John Agard – Inheritance
If we, the children of the meek,
should inherit an earth
whose rainforest lungs
breathe a tale of waste –
an earth where the ailing sea
shudders in its own slick
If we, the children of the meek,
should inherit an earth
where the grass goes nostalgic
at the mere mention of green
and the sky looks out of its depth
when reminded of blue
If we, the children of the meek,
should inherit such an earth,
then we ask of the future
one question: Should we dance
or break into gnashing of teeth
at the news of our inheritance?
Rachael Boast – Silent Sea
Another vessel sheds the chrome
of its silver mile until a mile
meanders into three, triples again
over the reef. Nothing can breathe
under oil, nor register that
dark membrane’s slick
over sight. We were the first
cracking the hull of the earth
open, our foolish husbandry
a metallurgy that’s brimmed
with false gold too often
we can talk, and talk, and talk
but a ship in space, manned
by non-thinking from non-feeling,
says absolutely nothing at all.
David Sergeant – A Language of Change
We’re sat by the ocean and this
could be a love poem; but that lullaby murderer
refuses each name I give it
and the icebergs seep into our sandwiches,
translated by carbon magic. And even this might be
to say too much. But the muse of poetry
has told me to be more clear – and don’t,
s/he said, for the love of God, please, screw things up.
Ambiguous, I didn’t reply; as we’re sat
by the ocean and I could make it
anything you wanted, for this moment
of speaking – but we have made it
something forever. Together
the weather
is a language we can barely understand;
but confessional experts detect
in the senseless diktat of hurricane
a hymning of our sins, our stupid counterpoint.
Love has served its purpose, now must be
transformed by an impersonal sequester
of me into the loves I will not see,
or touch, or in any way remember.
Perhaps it was always like this – take my hand,
horizon – ceding this land.
If you liked this post then read Can Cli-Fi save the world? or Five environmental thrillers you should read next.
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Maddy Burgess
maddy.blotmag@gmail.com
Maddy is a journalism student who enjoys writing about culture, entertainment and the arts. If she’s not reading a book, you’ll find her listening to Taylor Swift. She’s passionate about books that reflect what’s going on in society and lead us to ask important questions about the world around us.
Favourite genres: Contemporary Fiction and Romance.