Saving the World Through Writing

There's a tiger on the terrace

Yet another poem about palm oil... I was going through a phase.

There was a tiger on the terrace, growling at my rug

I wondered why, it had always seemed so snug

When I asked the cub, she growled all the more

And snarled madly, "this was my mum before

All the poachers came and stole her away

I still loathe them to this very day"

The rug was just the start of a tale of woes

So I got comfy in a sitting pose

"With my forest to disappear in 20 odd years,

It is not time for gallons of tears

But time to take fulfilled action

Stop tigers feeling dissatisfaction

Towards humans far and wide

We need to stop their precious pride

In tiger skins and palm oil

Your pitiless plans we need to foil"

I thought this was true, but fought back with passion

Saying that tiger skins were in the fashion

But the poor cub let out a wordless wail

And the more I fought, the more I did fail

On trying to block out that mournful sound

It sounded like a dying hound

So then I gave in and thought what to do

The tiger cub was feeling blue

I picked up this paper and started to write

To wright so that others could fight

To stop poachers and deforestation

To stop all tigers feeling deflation

To stop the likes of you and me

Doing as much harm as can be

By buying palm oil products galore

In any huge, crowded store

So my final words before parting

The little cub who was starting

To turn and go, away from me

On the terrace and up the tree,

With black and orange, coarse fur

The final, final words were

"The future is not writ in the stars

It's not the poachers, it is ours."