Back in 1818, Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote “Ozymandias” in playful competition with his friend Horace Smith. Their sonnets seemed to be “responding independently to a conversation about the scene,” probably a description and an illustration in Richard Pococke’s A Description of the East and Some Other Countries (London, 1743). I would like to challenge you to a 21st century contest. Look at the picture below and write a response to it. You can invent your own form or use an existing one that suits you and your content like the sonnet, ballad, free verse, short play, or short story.
Chris Jordan: “On Midway Atoll, a remote cluster of islands more than 2000 miles from the nearest continent, the detritus of our mass consumption surfaces in an astonishing place: inside the stomachs of thousands of dead baby albatrosses. The nesting chicks are fed lethal quantities of plastic by their parents, who mistake the floating trash for food as they forage over the vast polluted Pacific Ocean.
For me, kneeling over their carcasses is like looking into a macabre mirror. These birds reflect back an appallingly emblematic result of the collective trance of our consumerism and runaway industrial growth. Like the albatross, we first-world humans find ourselves lacking the ability to discern anymore what is nourishing from what is toxic to our lives and our spirits. Choked to death on our waste, the mythical albatross calls upon us to recognize that our greatest challenge lies not out there, but in here.” (Midway Project)
Roundtable Conversation 
One day, I found a dead seabird.
‘Cut me open.’ It pleaded. ‘Cut my stomach wide open.’
So, I cut the dead seabird and looked inside its stomach.
It was filled with garbage. Garbage from our lucrative world.
‘Do eat some foie gras, baby’ Mama said. ‘It’s good for you.’
I looked at the malformed livers of slaughtered, tormented geese.
They were overfed in a farm, fed until the livers grew large. Large and profitable.
‘This is exclusively for the rich.’ Mama said. ‘You know the poor wish to eat like us’
Perhaps I was my mother’s foie gras.
Capitalistic Placelessness
I lived in a big city where capitalism has change the landscape of it forever. Smog is commonplace in this city. Factories and plants can be found around the city. People believe that industrialization can bring opportunity to their life. Well, it seems that it does. People work and work to catch their dream. They do everything to catch their dream, the dream to be rich. Finding money becomes the definition of their life. My parents told me many times that we can’t live without money nowadays. I didn’t think anything because it seems like truth of life to me, well, at least, it’s the truth of the world of this city. Why the truth of this city is really boring? If I move out of this city, is the truth still true? Let me do some experiment.
I take a chance to go to a faraway isolated archipelago where I think that human’s civilization has never shaped the landscape here. I am among sun, sea, and beach. It might be the happiest moment of my life. My life now is away from the pavement gray. This is my isle of Innisfree. I wish I could live peacefully here like the idea of capitalism never exists in this isolated world. I almost come to the conclusion that we can live happy life without money. My parents’ truth does not exist here. I’ll to get something to eat.
While I go collecting some fruit and meat, I found the corpse of a little bird. What an unlucky bird! I am stunned by what I see in its stomach. A number of plastic scums fills it stomach. I feel like I am pulled back to my old world. Well, it never has the old world. There has been only one world. The world that I’ve known already. The world that capitalism has occupied. The power that shapes landscape over this world, even here. I become realized that I can escape to nowhere even Innisfree.
The Fate of “Plastic” Birds
Gazing upon the sky of crepuscular midnight, it was such serenity for which I always craved. Back home, my house in the capitol which I resided, nothing else could I see like in the countryside, not even leafy trees. What I loved most here were birds. Soaring high in the sky, it reminded me of how our spirits could be lifted with the power of freedom. Those birds must be happy with their lives on the clear firmament. Any kind of pollution would be benign to them, as far as I was concerned. Thinking like a naïve child, I always believed that those birds flying above us must be free from what humans produced – how could pollution inflict on them, by the way?
I was the only child of one of the most affluent and prestigious families in my hometown. My father ran his own business, which mostly concerned with manufacturing plastic products. We gained a great deal of money in each year, but we always divided ¼ of money to donate to the organization that took care of conserving birds. My father had always taught me that those organisms would benefit from money we gave to the charity, as it could start its campaign to protect birds all around the world. This might prove why I was fond of them as though they had been one of the members of my family.
As I had been sitting on the stone in front of my uncle’s house, the place where my family planned to sojourn for a few days, I noticed something strange. The sky turned to be opaque, the weather stared to startle me, as if there had been an omen that would happen soon, and the trees were moving in directions corresponding to where such maelstrom-and-vehement wind blew. This was not what I had expected. Why? Because I had watched the weather forecast this evening, and it had been predicted that the weather should be good and nice. Look at what I was experiencing! I could not comprehend why things went awry. I did not understand why weather was so unstable, so fervent that sometimes we could not get accustomed to it. My mother must have been noticed that something would happen soon, so she took me inside home as fast as she could, only to be relieved that I was still impeccably fine.
I did not go to bed as my mother told me. I noticed that inclemency had already commenced. Imbued with curiosity as most children were, I betook myself to a place inside the house where no one could find me, so that I could inspect what would happen next. Yes, I knew that doing such thing could incur punishment, as my mother was so fierce, so ardent that no one would dare challenge her. My mind now was full of the brim to see and prognosticate how such phenomenon could affect the surrounding environment on which we depended. I stood quietly in front of the windows in the house which I could vision the full-scale scenery of the isolated countryside. The weather turned to be worse than I thought. However, I found it extremely intriguing. I did not fear of it, nor did I disdain that kind of weather. I could still see birds flying all over the place. I praised them how valiant they were, flying on the sky without any signs of fear and terror. This was what I thought birds were different from persons – birds were chivalrous while humans were coward. I thought they would arrive at their homes with safety.
No, they were not! As I watched them racing towards their lodges, the dazzling zap occurred and hit one of the birds in the flock. I had to squint my eyes and closed my ears, as such lightning was so imprudent. I noticed that that unfortunate bird was falling to the ground slowly, but that did not grab my interest that what I saw other than that bird – plastic falling from the sky! I swore that I did not entertain the idea of making lie to make my story dramatic. This was what that was conspicuous. Potent as this event was, I decided to ran outside forthwith to see if I was not partially blind at all – well, maybe this action was triggered because of my fondness in birds too, as I felt shaken with by what I had envisioned. My mother came from nowhere and suddenly grabbed me.
“Dearing, what are you doing! Do you want to die, running outside home in this time? What is on your mind?” My mom asked me with her high pitch voice, and this made me feel like my ears were going to bleed severely.
“Nothing mum. I just wanna go outside to witness the bird that is stuck with lightning. I see plastic falling from the sky too.” I said with childlike voice.
“Nonsense! I think I have already told you to go to bed, so why are you still here? You wicked child!” My mom was on the verge of hitting me with her buxom hands. Fortunately, my father must have noticed something wrong, so he rushed to the scene and interfered with my mother’s action.
“Darling, what seems to be a problem with our son?” My father said with his gentle voice so as to calm my mother’s quick-tempered and angry emotion.
“Our son is trying to go outside to see a bird which he claims it has already died. My dear husband, what is the point of doing it, especially in this time when the weather is going haywire?”
“Oh, is that true, Dearing?” My father asked me, but still kept his civility in his manner.
“Yes, papa. I just want to go outside.”
“Dearing, I demand that you go to bed now! This is already 1 A.M. and you still be around here doing frivolous things!” My mother was about to catch me, but my father repelled her.
“Darling, come on! You are going to kill our son. I will handle him alone, so you should go to relax. Don’t worry, I will take care of him, okay?”
“No! You are always a too good father, so our son is spoiled. Look at how rebellious he is.” My mother increased her pitch to signify that she was not going to let my father take care of me.
“Mia! Please calm down. If you cannot talk with Dearing with calm and even-tempered manner, you will make our son be more rebellious. Do you like if you are treated like what you have done to Dearing? I think not, so you should relax now. I have already said you did not have to be worried about Dearing. Can you do it for me, darling?” My father tried to persuade my mother with his polite manner.
“Okay. Fine. I will go!” My mother said without glancing me and my father. She now went back to sleep, so I was now with my father.
“Okay. Dearing, can you tell me what happen outside that makes you want to see it?”
“It is a bird that is hit with lightning. I also see plastic falling from the sky as well, papa.”
“Hmmm. Well, the fact that that bird is dead seems okay to me, but I think plastic falling is not. Are you sure you saw it with your truthful eyes?” My father was skeptical with my claim by now.
“Yes, papa. I swear I see it by my eyes! How can plastic be on sky, papa? Those things cannot be on the sky!” I asked my father with curiosity.
“Well, I do not know. You know, my son, that plastic cannot be on the sky at all.”
“But I see it!”
“Well, Dearing. I have to say that plastic cannot be on the sky again. I think you should go to bed by now.” My father said with a little bit higher volume of his voice.
“Okay papa. Before I go, can I ask you a question? Do you think plastic can be pollution to birds, like they can eat plastic?” I asked in my father with innocence.
“Well, I do not think so. I think plastic provides benefits more than disadvantages. Moreover, I do not see any point that plastic can cause harm to birds at all. Also, I have to say that those birds should have good lives as we always help them by giving away our money which we earn from plastic company to the organization.” My father stated with high confidence.
“But, can it be possible that birds can consume plastic that will cause harm to them? Some plastic is so small.” I was still determined to ask my father.
“Look, Dearing. You should go to bed now. You are saying what that is not true. I do not see any possibility that such thing can happen.” My father was now annoyed.
“But papa, I think thi…”
“Dearing, I order that you go to bed, now.” My father did not let me finish my sentence. He was scary at the moment because he might be tired of me talking this and that.
“Okay, papa. I am sorry.” I said with offended manner, walking to my bedroom. Still, I could not forget and erase my curiosity. It dawned on me that there must have been misunderstandings in my father’s notion. I thought this and that and fell asleep.
When I woke up, the sky was clear again. It was 9 o’clock sharp. My curiosity still be with me, and I would ravel in seeking truth of what happened last night. Walking downstairs, I could not see anyone. Maybe my family went out somewhere, but I considered it a good time to embark on the journey. I did not hesitate to rush outside the house and ran to the scene where the odious incident occurred.
As expected, what I saw was that there was a corpse of the bird that had been hit with lightning. But what was more was that its belly was torn apart. Its internal organs were gone. I doubted this was the result of the power of lightning that made those organs engulfed in flame, so no trace of them could be found. Poor bird, your destroyed organs were irrevocable!
What about plastic? Well, this was what I was about to say. I witnessed plastic lying within the corpse. The profusion of plastic I could detect was what we already used in our daily basis. I began to feel baffled. Did this poor bird consumed all of these into its body? Where did it get “food” from? I always thought birds could not be affected with any kind of pollution, but, how could this happen? Was I embedded with delusion I always had and liars my family made to me? My father told me plastic had benefits, but, to those birds, it must have been disadvantages for sure! How many birds had already eaten plastic inside their bodies? How my father’s effort in helping birds by donating money did really help these poor creatures, being deceived that plastic was food for them, so they devoured with cherish? I began to be skeptical with how plastic affected the world in which we were living, not only to humans, but also animals. I decided to keep my confusion and questions to be asked when my father came home.
Waiting for one hour, my family arrived at home. They were carrying a lot of plastic products. I thought those things were for my uncle, to give him to express gratefulness. However, I now loathed plastic so much that I wanted to get rid of it from the world! I decided to ask my father when he was available and no one was around him.
“Papa, you told me plastic cannot be on the sky. Actually, it can!”
“What? Dearing, what are you talking about?” My father asked me with him full-of-questions face.
“I see the corpse of a bird. Well, it is a bird I told you last night. I see plastic inside its dead body. It must have eaten plastic! Papa, why don’t you tell me the truth? Plastic can be harmful, at least to animals! You are a liar, okay? I will say it one hundred million times that you are a liar. Papa, you are a liar!” I asked him with rage which I did not know why I was in this emotion.
“Look, Dearing. This is normal. Those birds are stupid, okay? They cannot distinguish what they can eat and what they should not. We produce plastic to make our lives easier. And do not forget that we earn a living by manufacturing plastic!” My father told me with a little bit remark of anger.
“Papa, you always want to save birds. You donate money to the organization, but why don’t you care them? You talk like you do not like them at all!”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake! Dearing, if you want to blame me for being ironic, that is fine. I donate money to make me look good to society, okay? It is what people do, especially in such counterfeit society where we always put on act. I have to say I am indifferent about birds. They are not my family members, so why should I care? Plastic makes us rich. If you are going to say that I am an antagonist of your own invented story just because I manufacture plastic and do not like birds as you expect, then you have to think you cannot be on this position where you live with carefree and a lot of money surrounding you. If you are not okay with it, then go, my son. Find your own virtue. Dearing, you have to grow up!”
“But at least you should care about the lives of those birds! Why don’t you find way to really help them? There must be a way where plastic can be harmless to them.”
“Okay, son. I give up. If you say so, what is the plan then? You are saying ridiculous.” My father stated to make mockery of me as I was stunned by his questions. I did not know what to do to alleviate such a problem, to ameliorate those birds’ welfare.
“Dearing, you propose that I do something, but you cannot find the solution. What are you expecting me to do then? To close the business that fulfills our lives? To envelop fondness to such creatures that do not help me gain money? Son, you had better do something than talk nonsense. I feel that it consumes our time without nothing productive. Go play with your plastic toys. You like them, don’t you? I have my own businesses to do.” My father left the conversation, leaving me hanging unfinished with what I wanted to say to him.
Well, as my father had said, maybe we could not do anything much. Yes, I felt sorry for those birds. They were just animals whose intuitive development were no match with that of humankinds. They were feeble. They were susceptible to pollution – plastic! However, on the condition that my life had to be depended on plastic business, I could not see any bright future for now what I could do to help them. I and my father were different in many aspects, and one of them was that I loved birds. Birds were my life! But, being just a child, how could I help them? I could not suffer to see such thing happening from time to time, that people in society would it for granted. Maybe I had to wait until I fully grew up, and that time, I promised I would do my best not to repeat my father’s ritual. I would do in my power to make the world better, and one of my missions was to not letting those birds be threatened with plastic anymore.
Men are the coolest,
the smartest, the most superior of all livings
They think.
Men are god
who created the better world from humble nature
They think.
Men are the owner
of all things on land and the land itself
They think.
Men have privileges
to make use of this tiny planet for their satisfaction
They think.
Men are evil
the worst, the most maleficent of all livings
They are.
Men are consumers
who exploit, pollute, and make a mess
They are.
Men are murderers
who kill and seize the soul from innocent creatures
They are.
Men are just trivial flesh and blood
who can never compete with the greatness of nature
They are.
“Doesn’t Matter”
What truly matters is that nothing does matter
What truly does last is that nothing lasts forever
What truly matters is that nothing does matter
Yes, this too shall pass and this shall last for-never
Yet what does matter is that all things do matter
‘Cause what truly occurs is the heart does grow tender
Of course, what does matter is that all things should matter
‘Cause what truly occurs is the dark does get lighter
Mistakes may be made, but may mistakes be forecasters
To weave and knit the stories and forewarn of disasters
Missteps may be taken, but may missteps be fore-tellers
To wail and kneel and weep and to forearm for pall-bearers
What truly matters perhaps is that all things should matter
Though what truly lasts is that all things last for-never
Remember, what matters doesn’t have to stay forever
‘Cause what truly matters is simply what to you matters
Edit:
(Line 8) Cause what truly occurs is the dark do get lighter
I never knew how to act in this complicated world. My parents were long gone, so no one ever taught me what to do. The only thing I trusted is my instinct. This innate skill helped me survived in a big city. I lived in a small dark alley which has never been quiet. I often heard passing pedestrians complained about everything. Yet there was one I agreed not, i.e. in a big city like this, people are selfish and disgusting. How dare they say that!? A lot of people have fed me! The food were also nice, especially the one that always made me full which they call ‘plastic.’ I have lived for about a year because of generosity of others. That was the best of how a bird can live, wasn’t it?
Have you ever heard that there are no accidents in life? Whether it’s by accident or by design, there’s not a thing we can do about it.
This lighter was bought by Lee, a 30-year-old architect who lives happily in the southern past of San Francisco with his family including his cheerful wife, Caroline, his adventurous son, Dan, and his father, Ben, from a local supermarket twelve years ago in order to lit candles for his son’s fifth birthday cake. since no one in this peaceful family enjoyed or was very fond of smoking, this lighter was rarely lit. Usually, it was lit about four times a year; in family members’ birthdays, of course. In this year, unfortunately, the fuel was run out and Lee had some problem preparing Caroline’s birthday party. In hurry, he, unintentionally, dropped the lighter on the sidewalk in front of his house and rushed into the nearest store to grabbed the new one (Normally, he wasn’t a guy who throw away stuffs in an improperate places).
Not far from Lee’ neighborhood, 17-year-old Charlie didn’t have a good day. His beloved girlfriend, Summer, left him after they had been together for a year. A year means 365 days or 8760 hours or 525600 minutes, which was pretty long time for our poor Charlie and it mean a lot to him (at least at that time). Summer said to him that they haven’t been genuinely happy in a while. Charlie, heart-broken, felt dejected and deeply sad. He went to the park, sitting alone for hours. At last, he threw away everything he could reach to relieve his unbearable anger including his book, four pebbles, sandwich wrap paper, and a blue bottle cap. He sat there until dark and decided to go home for dinner.
And then there was a poor hungry albatross which, unluckily, happened to lived in this concrete jungle world.
If only one thing had happened differently: if that Caroline had born in the next day; or that Lee had decided to celebrate his wife’s birthday in the restaurant; or that Charlie hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend; or that Charlie had gone to the museum instead of the park, this albatross would’ve passed away without eating anything that would easily kill it. But the world being what it is – a series of intersecting lives and incidents – that the lighter and the blue bottle cap have been traveling the long way to get there. And now, together, it was there – in this albatross’s stomach, along with those other garbage.
Since I graduated and started my work in this company, I hardly have time to breathe. I do everything from making coffee to be an executive who responsible for many important projects. I love my work so much that I devote all my life for it. But,lately, I get tired and need some time on my own; to rest, to let go of the stress, to breathe. I know my boss won’t be happy if I ask for extra days for vacation, so I’ve got a plan.
The next day when my boss entered the company and saw me sitting at my table, he immediately called me to his office. At first he asked me general questions that I answered while made an obvious fake weak smile on my face. Next he asked me about the the task he assigned me the day before so I eagerly stood up to bring it from my desk. I was half way to the door when he stoped me. He said that he did not want me to work instead he wanted me to rest. I refused immediately and said that I was not sick at all. However, as I started coughing harder and harder, he insisted to give me extra 2 weeks for my annual leave, he also praised me for always being hard-working and didn’t want to torture loyal employee like me. “You look so pale, don’t you notice yourself? Go home now and take a long sleep, I’ll see you soon!”
On the way home, I was scrolling down my iPhone when found a viral picture of a bird corpse that its stomach filled with trashes. I went under the picture to read comments: some said that it was fake yet most of people believed that it was real and began to reflect themselves on how humans are so cruel to nature and animals. For me whether the picture was set up or not isn’t more important than its ability of conveying this message they want to tell. Just like my case, it doesn’t matter if I was really ill or I only did not wear makeup; now it’s a vacation time!
Floating and bouncing,
Animals take them as food.
Life’s gone, plastics stay.
This morning a ‘sea monster’ swept up the shore. It terrifies me to see that the ocean still has many untold secrets. It was as if this massive body of water would be vast and dark until the end of time, unfathomable even though our technology has advanced to any peak. How many species were down there? How many have evolved? Shivers were sent along my spine…..
This morning a ‘tragedy’ swept up the shore. It horrifies me to see yet another living thing destroyed by the doings of human beings. The distorted bird might seem like a monster, but at the end, who is the real monster?
Syta Seth
“No one remembers how beautiful his voice used to be”.
Once upon a time, there is a little bird flying joyously. The world is so beautiful, animals in the forest greet it welcomely. It is so blessed to be in this place. The little bird enjoys his adventure as it is growing. It features develop as well as the rest of its organ giving it ability to conquer the world to survive. It sings with freedom on the daily basis and it sings for love as it mates. His beautiful chants are so harmonious that everyday animals gather around in the morning to appreciate his pieces. But one day, the wild dog turns to the cow and says “Aren’t this superstar’s chant start to becomes kinda strange you think? It is not as pleasant as it used to be. Not worth listening anymore I got lotta things to do man.” He then walks away, just like that.
“What is he talkin’ bout, the bird sings just fine. Leave that jealous doggo alone” says the cow. A cat nod in agreement.
Day by day and night by night, even though the little bird is still singing happily as usual, the amount of audience is lessen each day. Until one day, there are just a cow and a cat left.
As the bird is play his chant, the cow interrupts and asks. “Eh lil’ man, what ya been up to huh that shite makes ya voice sounds fizzy fuzzy ya kno’ dat.” He expresses the sympathy.
“Nah, I aint do nothin’ man I eat just like I always did, I sleep just like I always did , I sing just like I always did , I fly just like I always did.”
“But yea ma health is kinda weaken. I notice dat. But with ma nature, I gotta sing, mate. It is what I live for”
The next day, no one comes to the little bird performance anymore.
And the another and later day too.
Day by day and night by night, everyone forgets about the bird’s existence. With less self-esteem each day. The bird stops singing.
It doesn’t dare to utter its voice.
It’s heath is weaken each day.
With solitude and agony as it is, it dies.
He doesn’t have a proper funeral.
No one even knows he’s gone.
No one remembers how beautiful his voice used to be.
No one remembers him.