I long for land that’s not (Edit 1.)

[busker]

I long for land that’s not

within reach of Putin's missiles. 
Like a bunker against fissile
material in New Zealand,
a modern day Hades
where you breathe the salty air of stalactites. 

A more antiseptic plan
eliminates even prokaryotes. Surprised
into existence with water
who will be when the oceans rise 
and leap over the ghosts of lords and ladies
promenading on the esplanade.

A new world totters
with strange forms crawling on the seafloor.


Old version:

I long for land that’s not

A castle in Toulouse
with a park in the grounds,
but under a Moreton Bay fig’s awning,
its loose basket of lush
green leaves, the sound of a brush 
tailed possum haunting it after dark
and lorikeets in the dawning.

---

Probably needs to be rewritten ??

---

Smileys disappeared again

[TranquillityBase]

Probably needs a couple more strophes 


I long for land that’s not

A castle in Toulouse
with a park in the grounds,
but under a Moreton Bay fig’s awning,
its loose basket of lush
green leaves, the sound of a brush 
tailed possum haunting it after dark
and lorikeets in the dawning.            

---

Probably needs to be rewritten ??

---

Smileys disappeared again

Hi Busker,

I don't know about rewritten.  I think it's a promising beginning.  It being an imaginary place, the sky's the limit, verdad?

TqB

[Mark A Becker]

Hey busker-

If you think it needs to be re-written it probably does.
It does seem like there’s more to the story.
You’ve got interesting rhyming to build on.

My 2 cents,
Mark

[busker]

Thanks, both - posted a revised version. A different poem.

[TranquillityBase]

I long for land that’s not

within reach of Putin's missiles. 
Like a bunker against fissile
material in New Zealand,
a modern day Hades
where you breathe the salty air of stalactites. 

A more antiseptic plan
eliminates even prokaryotes. Surprised
into existence with water
who will be when the oceans rise                     "who" throws me off a bit, who is who?
and leap over the ghosts of lords and ladies
promenading on the esplanade.

A new world totters
with strange forms crawling on the seafloor.

Well, I think the old one is worth keeping around for later expansion, but this one's complete in itself and quite an enoyable read.  Your poems always surprise and delight and I like getting new words (fissile, prokaryotes) getting thrown in my way.  Poems should make your life better (says Kurt Vonnegut about art), and yours do.

TqB