The Bush Remains

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

My painting "Mount Corcoran" after Albert Bierstadt, a poem on the natural world

Man attempts to change the scape,

Of a world for his own escape.

To form it into his own vision,

Never a thought of God's provision.

Where natures own splendor there,

Gives home to cattle, horse and hare.

Who never think to terra-form,

A beauty land beyond its norm.

We build and slave, and in sweat profuse, 

On angled structures that we can use.

That create such a dichotomy, 

Against the natural world we see.

The native soul lives with the land,

Not owning it, with deed in hand.

On this place that God intended,

For us to live, not to mend it.

Perfection of the beautiful plain

Was never meant for truck and crane.

So go about your life and see,

That other animals will flee,

When they see self important men,

Making plans with scope and pen.

Were we supposed to live in caves?

Or under trees when it rains?

I think there was a bigger plan,

That encourages each man,

To live on the lands unabated, 

Protecting it's unbridled nature.

I hope that we return one day,

To tribal life, that's gone away.

Where money, power & pretense builds

Are lost ideas replaced by skills,

That nurture life and tend the land,

A gift from God's amazing hand.


Submitted: April 20, 2020

© Copyright 2021 dewey green. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



This is a pretty amazing poem, dewey. I despair of man's ability to let other species thrive alongside.

Mon, April 20th, 2020 7:20pm


Ta my very talented mate! I am sick at heart sometimes when I see the urban sprawl.
I woke this week around 4am, and looked out the window to see a mob of deer standing in the yard, about eight of them. It was so quiet, but my heart sank knowing they'd come down the mountain to graze, passing through at least four miles of suburbia, to stand all together in my yard. It felt like an omen, and a blessing, at the same time.

Mon, April 20th, 2020 1:28pm

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