Make Haze While The Sun Shines
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Forest
Forest, forest, burning bright
In the autumn moonlit night:
What possesses farmer man
To live while burning what he can?
In that furnace, what the gain?
What the price of all your grain?
Will your lung-burnt children care?
Money cannot buy you air.
When you cloud this air of mine
With the dust of ash so fine,
Turn the forest into haze,
Do you count your shortened days?
Carbon oxides dull your mind,
Leave the insight numb and blind.
Pray that clarity will rise
As the monsoon breaks the skies!
Forest, forest, burning bright
To make food by bringing blight;
Was the angel's flaming blade
For this agriculture made?
With apologies to William Blake
7 Comments:
Haha! Great poem mr.chew! Sums up the haze situation.
i was at a mooncake festival party where chidren are encouraged to add to the smoke.
burn.
(word verification: yellx)
*AH-chiew!*
the haze is blaking - bleargh - I mean blocking up my nose. :(
hmm or shld it be 'a-chew'?
Such lazy-hazy days,
The wind has brought to us.
Each time the forests are cleared,
Other jungles just get so blurred.
The last two lines are brilliant, if I may say.
“…NEA head of pollution control Joseph Hui said that the PSI reading is unlikely to pass 100 and enter unhealthy levels.” — ST, Oct 7
Forest, forest, burning bright,
Acid mists demean the sight,
Of what use is PSI
When we have this Joseph guy?
Indonesians dint get caught
"Dont sue me, the wind's at fault"
This haze has got in the eye
of Java's bureaucratic high
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