Egrets, sandpipers, mudskippers, mangrove plants, roots, leaves, mud, brackish water
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Overcoming Famine
The photo is the “Pulitzer Prize” winning photo taken in 1994 during the Sudan Famine. The picture depicts stricken child crawling towards a United Nations food camp, located a kilometer away. The vulture is waiting for the child to die so that it can eat him. This picture shocked the whole world. No one knows what happened to the child, including the photographer Kevin Carter who left the place as soon as the photograph was taken. Three months later he committed suicide due to depression.Yes, the problem isn't food shortage but unequal distribution of food, and greed has resulted in those companies who are capable of supplying food trying to control prices to maximise profits, causing those in other places unable to afford the food. We all can do our part to address the problem of famine in our own way. It all starts with the power of one.
In the past few years, insanely greedy, heartless wall street speculators have more than doubled the price of food in countries where people live on less than $1.00 or 2.00 per day. Around 30,000 people die of hunger each day. An estimated 25,000 of them are children 14 & under. They are NOT dying because of a food shortage (tons of food rots in warehouses every day), but simply because they have no money. Meanwhile the rich get richer and their hearts grow colder. Our world won't be civilized until everyone has enough food. Please Share this and insist that very serious & intense wars on hunger & extreme greed be started asap!
PLEASE: Take a part in your local Occupy Movement or support the Movement.
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Saturday, March 5, 2011
Nature Sketch - A Poem about the Twelve Apostles in Victoria, Australia
Gazing in awe I stood in rapture
At the wondrous sight mine eyes captured
Beholding its panorama – what beauty!
Away my breath it took with its majesty.
My numbed senses were hereupon thrilled
Heightened still as the southern winds chilled
Which had then teased and ruffled my hair
Now induced shivers without much care.
O could mere words ever suffice to define
The enchantment of this spectacle so fine
Which hath once resided in my dreams –
A realm where the silent sentries reign.
* * * *
Stacked precariously above the saline spray
Withstanding the onslaught steadily they stay;
Motionless as if time hath been static
Though of ravages their faces bespeak
That trace back immeasureable time
Of being sculpted in unending mime
Whence they were once part of a land drawn nigh
Ever changing unseen to human eye.
They lie bruised and battered to this date
Yet bizarre, they do inspire of late.
Oft I’d be spellbound by Nature
Entranced so much my heart would cheer;
Lost in wonder as I relax my mind
Willing to free myself from worries’ bind.
Here I am, peering agape at the churning froth
Tracing the shadows that veil like ebony cloth
Of the trapped towers confined to isolation
(Lonesome not as they huddle in congregations)
Over the milky crests that rise and quell
Spill atop platforms as the green-blue swells;
Continuity rules this marching raid
As rank upon rank advances to break
Makes one wonder if one should fall
And be swallowed in swirling maw
Dashed upon the pedestal one could be
Before one would depart vertically!
Herein, I duly affirm my theory
That Nature is beautiful but deadly:
Belittle not Her raw strength nor beauty
Else thine suffer in Her neutral fury.
They lie
Paying homage to the wall they face;
Whereupon unbroken miles it would stretch
Far beyond canvas of an artist’s sketch.
It regards them with impassivity
Aloof perchance, with its immensity,
Since from the shingle its flank rises sheer
To such heights it appears to domineer
Over their disintegrated forms lain in piles –
What a sharp contrast to its own massive profile!
Yet with dignity they remain resolute
Unperturbed, unfazed, not an iota subdued.
For they’re wrought of an ancient home continental –
By friction’s absence across the far Ross
Where Antarctic’s breath is brought and not lost.
Carving crannies have the gales been in inclement blight
Ailing arches do torrents assault with full might.
Their presence thereby serves as a display of grit,
Of tenacity, of will to resist any blitz;
Whereas the wall, albeit almost condescending
Is but a façade of bravado retreating
Driven back in time as it lies smitten
Its frailty of substance thereby written.
Yet it’s cloistered from the marauding crests
That are buffered and tamed upon the breasts
Of sentinels which ne’er forget their ties
For their blood runs deeper than melted ice.
It lies
Paying homage to the warriors it faces.
‘Tis amazing how mine perception o’er time grows
Changing as their juxtaposition gradually shows
The clues which reveal its nature beneath the view
Manifest to me as lessons derived anew,
Inasmuch as their shapes indistinct at first sight
Soon cease to defy description each new insight,
Conforming to familiar silhouettes in my mind
As over each lil’ detail I survey – and find:
From mere stump, one becomes a pinnacle
That rises skyward, like a church spire.
A smaller figurehead settles staring southward
Away from the wall, though never appears awkward;
Calmly it doth regard the onrushing minions
With unseeing eyes of a gallant ol’ Christian.
More than once have I descried a stocky pillar
With uneven girths which wrap nearly parallel;
Their carunculated sides a banded brown hue
Even shades vary with strata of old and new.
Some are capped with faint sheen of tussocks green
Or topped off by scant growth of tufts unpreened;
Others remain devoid of stalks on sloping roofs
Like shaven figures of sages gathered unmoved.
A common root, a shared plight
Similar they appear, yet dissimilar outright:
Every craggy nook carries its own tale
Of elements’ toll, of weakening shale,
Each minute scar bares a unique story
Of parting’s pain, of vessels unwary.
An overall ruggedness completes their portrayal
Of Nature’s last bastions braving Her timeless trials.
* * * *
High above hung a gentle summer glow
Its warmth dissipated through the crisp cold
Felt by the outback, seeped into my soul
‘Ere a last call signalled departure’s woe.
Traipsing my way back amongst the wild heath
Kicking up dust that constitutes this cliff,
I cast a backward glance at the silent sentries
Which have stood vigilant over countless centuries.
Deep in my mind’s recesses, a silent vow made
That a sketch of them I shalt write to serenade.
----
(Poem written by Jimmy Tan in 1995-1996)
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(Poem written by Jimmy Tan in 1995-1996)
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