Algae Bloom

Thinking about eutrophication, and how if there are too many nutrients algae will grow so much, it kills everything around it, and how the algae has no awareness of that fact, only of it's own freedom

Algae Bloom

The famine ends

Some change has occurred on a level they cannot comprehend

Suddenly there is plenty

They feast

They rejoice

"Here there is sun!" they exclaim.

"Here there is food for our children!"

They celebrate their good fortune,  extending their arms like the rays of the sun on a desert morning, gentle and warm but inescapable

They breathe deeply, finally secure in their ability to breathe

Their arms grow scalding 

Their breaths deplete their world's supply

Their world is small

They do not think of the others

They do not know there are others

In the shadow of the celebration, there is nothing left for the others

Soon there are no more others

They are alone

There is no longer plenty

"Where is the sun?" they cry

"What is killing our children?"

Where there was famine there is now emptiness

The last of them die

Their small world is smaller, devoid of them, of others, of food and of sun

They did not know

They knew only the taste of sun, the thrill of life, the love of a sated appetite

Can they be condemned?

Author's Note

This is not a good poem (in my opinion) but it IS a good idea for a poem (in my opinion). I want to know how to make the poem itself reflect the tragedy I see in my head.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

My advice follows along the lines of Winston's. You write every day. You learn to let your writing dictate to you where it wants to go, not where you want to take it. By which I mean, good writing has to flow like water. If you've ever tried to pour a pail of water somewhere it doesn't want to go you will have noticed it won't flow, it just puddles, and then when allowed to find its way, it slowly ebbs away.
I agree that the idea of this poem is a grand one for exploring. So look at this poem as a first attempt, let it settle, then go back to it. All poets go back over familiar ground, its how we come to grip with what is all around us.
As a final comment, if you are serious about your stated wish to improve your work, as far as poetry goes, drop a private message and I will be glad to share some thoughts and exercises to help you along the path of development. It's there. I read your play as well, and while I am not drawn to reading such works I could sense you have an ability for hearing, which is essential to writing well.

ken

[A Decent Playwright]

Thank you very much for the thoughtful comment.

I know that the first step to writing well is to write, and then write more, and then write again, so I figure I'm starting that journey right about now, and it can't hurt to put some early stuff out just to see how I'm doing. I haven't quite reached writing as a natural flow (the pail of water analogy is rather helpful, actually), but nobody starts with that. I do think I'll come back to this concept eventually; it really caught my attention, and like you said, the more I return to it, the more I'll understand.

Thank you for reading my play as well, even though plays aren't your particular cup of tea - I know longer pieces get less traction on this site, but I was rather proud of that one (compared to the poem, at least).

I very well may reach out privately at some point - you're clearly knowledgable and rather active here - but not at this particular moment in time. Thank you for the kind offer.

And thank you again for taking the time to formulate a thoughtful response; it means a lot.

[Ken e Bujold]

no trouble at all PW, and keep on writing, I will be watching

[Davidgeo]

"extending their arms like the rays of the sun on a desert morning, gentle and warm but inescapable"

That part specifically is artwork.

[A Decent Playwright]

Thank you! While I may not be proudest of this poem, I know theres something to it, and I found that comparison particularly meaningful. The sun and algae as elements of nature with no intent but to survive and/or continue their cosmic rotation, who unknowingly bring hardship upon arid lands and suffocating bodies of water.

I'm very glad you liked it.

[poetgurl (Plainly Meg)]

Quite intriguing as well as kind of sad as well.

[A Decent Playwright]

Thank you! I do find it sad, even though I know logically that algae doesn't have feelings. I feel like it's not really their fault that algae blooms can be so destructive.

[W. Barrett Munn]

There is no magic to it. All you can hope to do is talk to the muse daily and hope on occasion she or he takes pity on you. Relax, deep breaths, and see where your mind takes you.

Winston

[A Decent Playwright]

Thanks. I'm doing my best, but it's tough to have a concept make you feel a unique emotion and then not have the right words to translate it. Perhaps if the muse, as you said, takes pity, someday I'll rewrite it better.