The Pines

The following poem is a golden shovel poem for dVerse.  It is based on the line, “We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines” from The Pines by Robert W Service.

How is it that we
can even dare to sleep
when the earth reels in
the turmoil that we cause? We see the
devastation of our waste, and yet, we sleep
and barely even dream of
how to make a better reality. In future ages
our children will look at the
past, and blame their bleak
existence on their barbarian
ancestors, and wish they could see pines

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17 thoughts on “The Pines

  1. It will be “interesting” to see how it all pans out. Will or won’t there be pines for the future generations…we don’t know, and I’m trying to think positively.

  2. the quote from Service and your poem puts me in mind of several of Basho’s haiku about pines. One of which was a bout a pine known for its singular beauty. He simply repeats over and over, the pine….he was so overwhelmed he could say nothing else. This poem reminds me of the singular beauty of all things on this earth and how we are destroying them. I cannot imagine a world without pines. I hope I never live to see it.

  3. I love this. We have been so cavalier and neglectful in our stewardship of the earth. And to me, even worse than that neglect is the deliberate destruction done today in the name of greed.

  4. Yes. Agree with the comments already posted here and the sentiment in your poem. How can we sleep knowing the damage that’s been done and is still being done? (From one admirer of trees to another.) 😉

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