Never Like In The Poem

Never Like In The Poem

Went to Innisfree with intention,
Am surprised with its condition.
The place was never like in the poem.
Empty with an eerie silence,
Rusted with its old dead ferns.

Walking to the hut I saw the water shallowed,
And the permanent wave mellowed.
The water is relentlessly black,
Except for the wave that is slacked,
Raging storm came and it reflects.

Who made this situation?
Absolutely man and its creation.
Tractors and bulldozers clearing grounds,
Eating maples, oaks and timber.
Rushing the dirt into the water.

We can restore its serenity,
Again, we can see it changed.
The water we let it clean,
Ensuring such fair action,
Reserve it for future generation.

Courtesy of,

+azham vosovic+

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