(header photographs by Harry Waite 1912-2011)

The Myth of the Sacred Brumby

 

 

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Forest Action Poems Australia

Farewell Cybele

WANTED

Cybele, our Sundays will never be the same,
our picnics in the forest spoiled by acid rain;
This summer we stand on decaying autumn leaves,
the skeletal branches wracked with man's disease.
Still, the smoke stacks spew out their foul breath,
too late now to stem the creeping death;
the sickening scourge men failed to stay,
blind to their fate, living only for the day.
Cybele, I cannot save you, or nurse you back to health,
I'll chop you down, and from you, make a coffin for myself.
Listen to the wind in the forest, sighing:
Farewell Cybele, the trees are dying.
Jim Teys
The Waysider" No 194 December 1985
DEAD OR ALIVE
MAN
Raper of forests
Butcher of the oceans
Exterminator of species
Wrecker of resources
Annihilator of his own kind
REWARD
 
Ten million years of freedom
from his yoke.
Jim Teys
The Waysider No 170 Nov/Dec 1981