The new estate

The new estate

A Poem by Beccy

The bricks pile,
angled in certain shadows;
whilst in stark contrasted
trees, 
crows squabble,
vying for what little space 
remains, as pale twilight
searches for redundant 
and recently departed 
ancient oaks.

There is bustle, where once
only meadow grass rose to
greet the day; muddied boots
with no regard, tread purposeful,
the throb and thrum of machines
usurping the dawn chorus,
suborning all sound, 
save the tinkle of coin,
the distribution of dividend.

Soon, a  grey concrete
snake winds from door to door; 
a substitute, pale in comparison
to the once gentle flow of 
a crystal clear stream; and 
beneath the hum of complacent
domesticity, there is the rustle
of grass composing a song 
in bittersweet memory.

Here and there, as the settlement
grows, a faint glow shines 
behind closed curtains;
reaching for salvation,
as outside, standing in 
new formed rank and file, 
the guttered street lights 
reflect on what once was,
and there is both agony 
and ecstasy in the knowledge 
that so-called progress 
is as inevitable as time and tide. 

One day of course, in the 
natural order of things
the grey concrete snake 
will shed it's fragile skin, 
street lights will lose their glow
and ancient oaks will rise
from the ashes of our folly;
and it will come to be,
that those bricks, angled in 
certain shadows, will return
to the dust from whence they came.

© 2020 Beccy


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You have re-invented the Joni Mitchell song "Big Yellow Taxi" -- they paved paradise & put up a parking lot. I love that you show progress in a bittersweet way. I hate looking at how the orchards of my youth became the sprawling metropolis of San Francisco Bay Area, but we must also embrace progress becuz nothing can stay the same. You paint all the varied colors of progress with a lingering melancholy tone (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 9 Months Ago


YES YES AND THRICE YES!
We never did get to grips with the fact that we only borrow and don't own or have a right to claim what never will be ours.
No amount of cleverologists will ever be able to convince me that we were the wrong choice to take out the food chain and think we're in charge, especially when most of us shouldn't even be allowed to be in charge of the tv remote 😀
If there is a way to to see what future we are leaving to the generstions who follow, we would shamefully look at the ground and go straight to the naughty step.
No one has beaten old Ma Nature yet, and I'm sure she'll have her revenge if we don't get a grip of ourselves.
Now we have people going to live on mars, it is like a bad sequel to a movie we didn't like the first time. 😀

Posted 9 Months Ago


Ah, the entropy of man and nature. Shelley had his Ozymandias and you give us this. I really enjoy both the theme and the writing here. This was a pleasure to read.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Beccy

1 Year Ago

Thank you. I wonder what Shelley would make of it all? Probably wonder why it is that those, lone a.. read more
Fabian G. Franklin

1 Year Ago

And to think The Sphinx is still here, watching us all with catlike patience.
This is really wonderfully put together. The theme of our destructive progress is a fruitful one for poets, but rarely has it been so well expressed as it was here.

I've been using this period to extensively walk the surrounding Kent countryside, and the sense of beauty and calm, it fosters can never be manufactured.

The lines: ''suborning all sound, save the tinkle of coin, the distribution of dividend' were descriptive and powered the poem.

Best wishes
Jamie

Posted 1 Year Ago


Reminds me of an old Joannie Mitchell song, "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot." Yes, the estates will rise and the trees will be taken away....and the beauty of nature will be hidden. Such a shame really. Of course, in South Florida there are times a new development stops being built in the middle of construction because funds run out. then the new buildings become overgrown. Well written poem, Beccy. Lydi**

Posted 1 Year Ago



A very moving poem , Beccy,We had an old farm house near us with a beautiful glade of trees and wild flowers. Three years ago it was demolished along with the trees and nine "luxury" bungalows erected. So far, NONE have been sold, or occupied and must be steadily deteriorating. Will it also return to be an overgrown wildflower sanctuary, as your very descriptive poem suggests.

Norman





Posted 1 Year Ago


The earth has experienced so many periods of transformation in its lifespan. The fact that the Industrial Revolution kicked off a period of such rapid change as to see many species extinct and resources diminished and environments destroyed is a bit hard to wrap my head around. What took billions of years to build can be diminished so quickly like a mountain subject to quarrying.

But in spite of how dire our shenanigans are with regards to our own survival, your poem reminds us that the earth itself is resilient and will carry on long after we are gone because nature abhors a vacuum and is always seeking ways to fill the gaps.

A little grit in the cracks of that concrete snake and life will root itself again and again. Eventually breaking down the very foundations that our concrete world is built on. The fact that we must constantly be fighting against nature to keep the human world in the immaculate neatness that modern humans have come to crave is our first clue that we’ve been going about it wrong.

I love the way you describe the two worlds and where they collide. The earth will certainly survive us. Would be nice if we could stay a bit longer and learn how to live in harmony with it.

Another lovely and intelligent poem by you.

Posted 1 Year Ago


'... ... little space - remains, as pale twilight - ] searches for redundant - and recently departed ancient oaks.'

Such a moving and wonderfully expressed poem, Beccy And, one of the most tragic of happenings. We need houses, yes, yes, yes we do.

But what of the children who live under their roofs. What about the trees they might have climbed had the countryside been open to them. What about the sight of green dotted with white and yellow being seen from an upstairs window and knowing for sure that it's gradually fading... disappearing. But, knowing or perhaps not being aware, that it could be yours, could be your means to 'fly' the world and understand its billions of wonders/ Parents sharing it.. knowing how it was, might be, could be, is - in many places.

I could say so much.. The thought of that length of time, the ensuing draining of emotions until.. when.. whenever.. who knows, the soil gives birth once more is an unknown but, all gods and Nature permitting, it will birth again... some time Your final stanza says so. I believe you.

Posted 1 Year Ago


That transformation, that erasure of humankind's presence can happen quicker than many might imagine.
Your poetry is, undeniably, beautiful and haunting.
However--while we must be better stewards--nature without humanity is pointless.

Posted 1 Year Ago


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You gone and done it again dont ya... A brilliantly crafted poem that feels like you took the words from my very own mouth and said it all for me... there must be thousands of us out here that view the destruction of our beloved countryside and open spaces as an offensive crime … I could go on and on.. but my head hurts so....

Posted 1 Year Ago



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Added on March 31, 2020
Last Updated on April 2, 2020

Author

Beccy
Beccy

Northampton, Northamptonshire, United Kingdom



About
I'm forty three, single and have a lovely thirteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and re.. more..

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