Gaia Kneads the Surface
©Nov. 5th 2021, Olan L. Smith
The Earth's crust cries! More rocks to grind,
To knead, to spew forth upon the globe, give
Me land to make new, to cover the lava until it
Returns to me to knead and belch.
"You are mine!" the volcanoes say, as they bluster,
Turning day to night. I will pulverize you and
Spit you out; don't offer your virgins, I have you.
I give you acreage to live on for a cost, can you pay
For it with your life? I come for you in the day,
Or in the night, and I pay no difference who you
Are. I will take you alive or dead. Utter your prayers
For I am; live on the seas? I come. Live in the arctic,
I'll derive pleasure in demise. I tear down to make
New. Run! I'll chase you with my lahars. I possess all
In the end, and I pay no price except to Sol
Who will devour even me and burn Terra to charred
Ruins that not even Hades can hope to match. Oceania
Cries out, hisses as I consume her, build my islands, my
Continents, relieve the pressure of Earth's shroud.
The veil says to the shell, "Swallow!" I mold, I
Consume all my skin, and then I regurgitate life.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
