Progress (A Concrete Jungle)

Cloudy green
Lush Forest, made
of the stuff
dreams are made of,
a jungle of
culture and
heritage-

now a
city.
Dull grey
buildings, wailing
cries of bustling
cars in the
distance.

Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
scrape
the
sky.

and the ever-
progressing society
labels it a
Jungle. All
these trucks
and bulldozers,

all part of
the immutable
progression of
Time,
of the long
and dreary
process we call
Development.

And
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
they
scrape
the
sky.

by Ballerina With Fins

Other poems of WITH FINS (67)

Comments (4)

well said, creative and to the point. pertinent social commentary artfully expressed. 'of the long and dreary process we call development' great line - I call it the manufactured ecosystem. I also have a poem titled 'progress'
you start off so well at then keep that pace going the title was even good ' Progress (a concrete jungle) ' great write
This poem reminds me a little of a poem I wrote in defiance of progress titled, 'Back In the Day.' Certainly, at some point progress loses its 'pro.' Good write! Brian
A woeful and wistful lament about the linkages between nature and man-made development; interestingly connecting the word 'jungle' with that of both. Noted the subtle bitterness of the narrator as she proclaims that skyscrapers scrape the sky, a metaphor to show how our 'development' affects and inflicts damage upon that which is of nature. A nice read. - K.