Pesticide Fields
For Rachel Carson,1907-1968
In La Belle Dame sans Merci
John Keats writes about the sedge
That withered from the lake
And the birds that stopped to sing.
But unlike the poet’s merciless Dame
You, Rachel, you were a Lady
Of great compassion.
The eels and the scombrids still swim
Under the Sea Wind somehow
Yet your Silent Spring evokes
A verdant season without bird song
On the pesticide fields.
Half a century ago you warned
That the abuse of DDT
And other chemicals harm
And kill animals and humans.
And then the chemical corporations
Reacted to your words
With savage furor and venom.
They accused you with all sort of things:
Of being a hysterical woman
Without proper scientific training
Who did not understand the need
To weigh potential risks against benefits.
They also accused you
Of being responsible
For millions of deaths around the globe
Caused by malaria
Because DDT can kill mosquitoes
And a ban on it would hinder control
Of malaria transmission.
These were untrue
And malicious accusations.
In fact, you never suggested
To ban DDT or chemicals.
You just said to use pesticides
With caution and to spray
With as little as possible.
Since then your vision
Has been vindicated
And remarkably, the poisonous campaign
Of the chemical industry against you
Backfired.
The public became aware
Of the dangers of pesticides
And governments outlawed
The use of DDT.
However, you became gravely ill
In the struggle.
I don’t know
Whether the breast cancer you contracted
Was caused by environmental degradation
And pollution
Augmented by the toxic fumes
Of a vicious campaign against you.
Who knows?
Rachel, my brave and fragile,
My wise and farsighted lady,
We only know that you died
Of a heart attack.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Related quotes
Madonna (new version)
I thanked the gods for you
and you were Madonna beautiful to me
as if something holy
radiated from your heart.
Your golden eyes
could look deep into my soul
and you could understand me
for who and what
I really am.
You could put your fingers
to strings and brushes
and the most beautiful words
could go out of your hands
and your sparkling voice
stays forever with me,
but Madonna,
you are gone.
Now I know that John Keats
and AG Visser
would have understood how it feels
when a princess
whom you tried to build a life with,
decides that she does not
like you, neverless love you
and I wonder
if there’s still a heart beating
Madonna, in your breast?
[References: La belle dame sans merci by John Keats, La belle dame sans merci by AG Visser, La belle dame sans merci by Gert Strydom and No red rose by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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La belle dame sans merci
Every day she unfolds leave on leave
drawing fascination from everyone.
Every day with greater beauty,
she spreads her life force
giving herself, giving all of her
without a leave withering or wilting.
So without scar,
without blemish she appears
and still she carries to eternity
the signs of her time
and still she can attract and charm so much
that you and I
fall under her spell.
[References: La belle dame sans merci by John Keats, La belle dame sans merci by AG Visser and No red rose by Gert Strydom]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Environmental Pollution
Environmental pollution
Is a collision of masses of waste particles
That requires an immediate solution
My heart saddens when I realise
There will come a time when all rainforests
Will turn to barren stretched marked lands
When rivers will be invaded by all weather pests
I wish we could plant a tree next door
Control the toxic waste released into our waters
Control the toxic waste released into our atmosphere
I despair and fear because I care
About what we breathe in from the air
Help! environmental pollution
Technological advancement has its negative sides
Smoke, smog & waste is mixing with carbon dioxide
Everyday toxic chemicals we are releasing
And fresh water reserves are decreasing
So help, help
Help find a solution
To Environmental Pollution
The air we consume
Is polluted with all kinds of fumes
If we continue like this
We shall be doomed
We shall be doomed!
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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La Belle Dame Sans Merci (Original version )
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said -
'I love thee true'.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
poem by John Keats
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Peggy Mitchell
Your smile came so easily
as a rose unfolding under the sun
and almost carelessly were we
in a true happy state
falling for each other
and yet although pure with great dignity
love sprouted as a simple flower
coming to its own perfection
but the thorns that it carried
brought pain, mercilessly tormenting
in madness, glee and selfishly
and still as joy unending
and carelessly you wanted to be free,
just as easily you left me, senselessly
as stripped leaves wither,
to flower for another
to have his heart at your mercy.
[References: Peggy Mitchell by the Irish poet Rafferty, Peggy Mitchell by James Stephens, Sy by A.G. Visser, Peggy Mitchell by Eugene N. Marais, La belle dame sans merci by John Keats, Madonna (new version) , No Red Rose and La belle dame sans merci by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery's child:
Her hair was long, her foot was ligh,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said,
"I love thee true!"
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild, sad eyes---
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried---"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill side.
And that is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
poem by John Keats
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Little Rachel
By jim byfield
You dont need no high i.q.
To get right down and sing the blues.
If youre down, heres what to do;
Me and my guitar will sing for you.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
I got a box and an old whisk broom.
We gonna rock around the room.
When my guitar plays this tune,
We gonna dance to the light of the moon.
Chorus
What you feel, that aint no jive.
The get down sound makes you feel alive.
Chorus
Push it, little rachel, push it.
Push it, little rachel, push it.
Pull it, little rachel, pull it.
Pull it, little rachel, pull it.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blush Response
[rachel:]
Do you like our owl?
[deckard:]
Is it artificial?
[rachel:]
Of course it is
[deckard:]
Must be expensive
[rachel:]
Very
[rachel:]
Im rachel
[deckard:]
Deckard
[rachel:]
Its seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public
[deckard:]
Replicants are like any other machines
They are either a benefit or a hazard
If theyre a benefit, its not my problem
[rachel:]
May I ask you a personal question?
[deckard:]
Sure
[rachel:]
Have you ever retired a human, by mistake?
[deckard:]
No [rachel:]
But in your position that is a risk
[tyrell:]
Is this to be an empathy test?
Capilary dilation of the so called blush response
... fluctuation of the pupil
Involuntary dilation of the iris
[deckard:]
We call it voight-kampf for short
[note: named after the people who developed this test]
[rachel:]
Mr. deckard, dr. elden tyrell
[tyrell:]
Demonstrate it. I want to see it work
[deckard:]
Were is the subject?
[tyrell:]
I want to see it work on a person
I want to see a negative before I provide you with a positive
[deckard:]
Whats that gonna prove?
[tyrell:]
Indulge me
[deckard:] on you?
[tyrell:]
Try her
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here now John Keats, I salute you
Some of your poems
were met with contempt
and yet above most
English poets your work rise.
Your words are deep and wise
and sweep past time
in eloquence,
breaking right through history
with magic and imagery
and only after death
your true honour comes.
Now famous are your name
and on first reading
“Chapman’s Homer”
I was convinced
to read Homer’s Iliad and the Odyssey.
Your “La Belle Dame sans Merci”
and “Lamia” are reflected
in my own verse
and here now
John Keats, I salute you
while your words
are immortal to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Kill the virus, not us
Kill the virus, not us
Recently this fever is frequently reported
Some even die
People infected by this virus
Range from slum dwellers to farm owners
Even doctors are not spared
Why a very successful film producer
And director too succumbed to this
The blame come on to us, the carriers
We, the Aedes mosquitoes
Thrive on juicy leave saps
And our female members have to have a
Human blood meal
If not for anything else,
For the continuation of our generation
The blood meal is taken early in the morning
Or in the evening with sunlight still being there
We have no clue as to
Whether the person on whom we feed
Suffers an infection of dengue or not
You may not know that
We too get infected by the virus
But we manage well without suffering any symptoms
By the time when all our body fluids
Are enriched with virus it will be
A week or ten days passed
After the blood meal from the infected person
This is when we become real carriers
We have the potential to infect a healthy person
With dengue virus if we happen to bite that person
We are just carriers, not knowing what we carry
Blaming us only is unfair
You hurriedly take measures to eliminate our species
It is not at all possible
We brave all your biological weapons
And you may not be aware that some of us
Have already developed resistance to
Most of your branded repellants and pesticides
We have some of these suggestions
For your staying uninfected by this virus
We admit, we only spread the infection
Remove and clear all such spots
Where we may establish a habitat
We suggest that you use a good mosquito net
And keep us away from you
We repeat, your repellants and pesticides
Are no longer effective against us
Or your genetic stalwarts can engineer
A mutation in us
So that our system itself produces an antigen
Against this virus
And the virus is made non-infective further
Or immunize your people against the virus
Do something with your great scientific effort
To relieve us of this burden around a viral infection
Your mission must be to ensure
That we, the Aedes mosquitoes and you
Have a harmonious co-existence
Kill the cause, not the carriers
Kill the virus, not us
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Rachel
The story of Rachel is a story of great love,
A story shaped by our Heavenly Father above.
A story of great mystery,
A wonderful story of biblical history.
Of a man in search of the love of his life,
The woman God would provide for a wife.
An epic of a wicked father, who cheated and lied,
A man of faith worked seven years and cried.
When the calendar turned over a fourteenth year,
Jacob would hear Rachel's sweet whisper in his ear.
He would remember a dry and dusty by a well,
And Rachel's beauty as well.
Rachel, to be true to your God is to be true to your self,
Follow the book and gain great spiritual wealth.
You have a natural beauty a delight to behold,
Much like the Rachel of old.
You are bright and willing to achieve,
Set your course drive hard and in Jesus believe.
You have parents old and new who in you delight,
And are watching to see you follow in God's might.
Snow-white of the veldt
(after A.G. Visser)
On a winter afternoon it became icy cold
as Rachel and Hendrik was searching for a calf,
when the snow suddenly started falling around them
everything was white like a huge table-cloth.
Lost and half frozen
they could not find the way home,
with the night falling black
they were blinded by the wet winter wind.
She hollowed out an anthill,
with her naked body she diverted the wind,
with her clothes pressed into the hole to shelter her brother
and so the twelve year old girl Rachel died
was devoured by the icy cold and the winter weather
while she saved the life of her seven year old brother.
[References: "Sneeuwitjie" (Snow-white) by A.G. Visser. In the book "Sketse uit die Lewe van Mens en dier" (Sketches in the lives of humans and animals) by Eugène Marais the incident is noted of the twelve year old girl Rachel de Beer who saved the life of her seven year old brother near to the Drakensberg mountains.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lady Lynda
Lady lady lady lady
Wont you come here and lie lady lynda with me
We can lie in the green canyon meadows
And well hear the birds sing in the spring
Dont you know if you;ll stay lady lynda with me
We can talk about love everafter
When you lie lady lynda with me
Lynda, wont you say that we can be near
Cannot deny thereve been hard times
Darlin, evolution is drawing us near
Look in my eyes whoa
Lynda, wont you say that I am your man
Your lips are dry (? ) its all in his past
But darlin, evolution is drawing us near
Lie lady lie
Oooh lady wont you lie lady
Now wont you stay lady lynda with me
We can talk about love everafter
When you lie lady lynda with me
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you ooh lady wont you stay lady with me
When you lie lady lynda
Come along with me
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me
Darlin you know you make my heart sing
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the sound of love
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me
Darlin your love is like the coming spring
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the song my love
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me darlin your love is like the coming spring
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the song my love
Ohh lady wont you lie lady
Wont you lie with me
Darlin your love is like the coming spring
Wont you come along and sing a song
Sing the song my love
Ooh lady wont you lie lady wont you marry me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vindicated
Vindicated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a feeling that is felt this is elated.
When you've been vindicated,
From those acts that can decay...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
When you've been accused,
By other people for things you did not do...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Tossing and turning and can't sleep,
By those deceivers planning defeat...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
When you've been depicted to be a fool,
By others who wish to undo you...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vindicated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a feeling that is felt this is elated.
When you've been vindicated,
From those acts that can decay...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Rarity of Genius
While yet my lip was breathing youth's first breath,
I all too young to know their deepest spell,
I saw Medea and Phædra in Rachel;
Later I saw the great Elizabeth.
Rachel, Ristori -- we shall speak with death
Ere we meet souls like these. In one age dwell
Not many such: a century shall tell
Its hundred beads before it braid a wreath
For two so queenly foreheads. If it take
Æons to form a diamond, grain on grain,
Æons to crystallize its fire and dew,
By what slow processes must Nature make
Her Shakespeares and her Raffaels? Great the gain
If she spoil millions making one or two.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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End Bug Spray Pollution
I have a solution to
All of the bug spray pollution.
Yes, the pesticides that slowly
Kill you and I.
It’s called diatomaceous earth,
try it yourself,
It’s more than it’s worth.
Go to www.earthworkshealth.com
Buy it today before it’s
all gone.
Written by Christina Sunrise on April 21,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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What Kisses Had John Keats?
I scanned two lines with some surmise
As over Keats I chanced to pore:
'And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
With kisses four.'
Says I: 'Why was it only four,
Not five or six or seven?
I think I would have made it more,--
Even eleven.
'Gee! If she'd lured a guy like me
Into her gelid grot
I'd make that Belle Dame sans Merci
Sure kiss a lot.
'Them poets have their little tricks;
I think John counted kisses for,
Not two or three or five or six
To rhyme with "sore."'
poem by Robert William Service
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Fear Kills Fifty Percent
Unfortunate fear kills fifty percent
Humans, animals not significant!
Why and how none has logical reason
Fear for all, sure, in and out of season!
Strong wind, shadow and rain all cause of fear
Fear of pain, fear of life, fear of death near
Sure a funny world and man not knowing
What to fear and what not to-suffering
And dying mentally, day in and out!
Intellect fails, thoughts struck and vision shut
Sure miserable life not worth living!
Just a little clarity in thinking
A bit of rational analysis
Great faith in the Almighty's emphasis
Sure to help the timid to fight the ghost
And stay at their homes sans thought of the post!
Pain and panic shall not enter the soul
That has strong mind and firm will as a whole!
Fear not to kill that fear that kills the half
Humans or animals fear the other sharp
Sans rhyme or reason, in spring or summer
The young or old, boy or girl-made thinner!
The timid suffers and the strong prospers
Nature helps them not but sure the strong!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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A Song Of Keats
'TIS a tarnished book and old,
Edges frayed and covers green!
But, between the covers, gold —
Gold and jewels in between.
And this written (see, O see!
How old Time has made it dim)
'For one song Keats gave to me
I kneel down and worship him.'
He who wrote these lines is dust;
All of him is passed away;
Some hand closed his eyes, I trust,
Drew the blind to darken day.
Did lips kiss him at the end,
Love-lips tremulous yet brave?
Had he mistress, child, or friend
To sow green grass upon his grave?
Nay, we know not — it is long
Since he tired of Life's deceits,
Closed his ears to sigh and song,
Parted with this book, JOHN KEATS.
Year by year the Poet thrives;
Summer smiles and winter weeps;
La Belle Dame Sans Merci lives,
But a heart that loved her sleeps.
Who would woeful go to miss
Roses red in thorns arrayed,
When he might with surer bliss
Love a milkwhite Devon maid?
Beauty kindles man's desire,
Beauty dwindles, growing faint;
But the girls who never tire
Are the girls that poets paint.
When the moon has taken wings
And the twilight hour is come,
Grey the woods, and no bird sings:
Grey the world beyond, and dumb:
Neither light is there nor breeze,
Rose to redden, thorn to pain;
Till, look! look! Among the trees
A sudden bird! a scarlet stain!
So he tired of Fate's defeats,
Life's dead trees and woodlands grim,
Till sudden-sweet a song of Keats
One magic moment gave to him.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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There was a sweet lady
There was a sweet lady, named dame Murdoch, so true,
Who took to caring for many children like me and you;
The children's hospital was one of her places she cared about,
One thing was ths lady never got angry, or did shout.
She took the time to sit down, have a nice chat,
About sick children, who needed help, she got to that;
She raised help with money and support in every function,
Dame Murdoch, if you were running for mayor, you'd win the election.
Thank dear lady, you certainly gave in more ways than one,
You never gave in till the work for you was all done,
To live over the century, you've seen things come and go,
From every patient, family, friend, and everyone you did know.
Goodbye sweet lady, We'll see you in heavens hats so.
poem by Margaret Haig
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