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“– The life of the worlds is a roaring river, but Earth’s is a pond and a backwater.

– The sign of doom is written on your brows – how long will ye kick against the pin-pricks?

– But there is one conquest and one crown, one redemption and one solution.

– Know yourselves – be infertile and let the earth be silent after ye.” 
― Peter Wessel Zapffe, Essays

Hello Fellow Poets and Welcome to my first hosting of Quadrille Monday. And… Happy Autumnal Equinox!

For those of you new to dVerse, a Quadrille is an original poetic concoction, created and served up here at the dVerse Poets Pub. Write a poem consisting of 44 words, not including the title. There is no specific form or topic required., but your poem MUST contain the given word or some form of the word.

So many words to choose from but today I have chosen – Extinction

Definition of Extinction

1 : the act of making extinct or causing to be extinguished

2 : the condition or fact of being extinct or extinguished

also : the process of becoming extinct 

extinction of a species 

3 : the process of eliminating or reducing a conditioned response by not reinforcing it

Source: Merriam-Webster.com

Recently, researchers unearthed a ‘new’ extinction which raises the total of major mass extinctions in the geologic record to six. Here is the article if you are interested in reading it: Researchers unearth a ‘new’ extinction

When our thoughts turn to extinction, our mind goes to that of climate change. It is an ongoing crisis on our earth we, along with all other species face. But today I would challenge you to use the word extinction, but not refer to climate change directly. And as long as the word Extinction (or a variation thereof) is in either the title or the body of the poem, that is fine.

Here is a beautiful poem to ponder:

Extinction of Silence


That it was shy when alive goes without saying. 

We know it vanished at the sound of voices 

Or footsteps. It took wing at the slightest noises, 

Though it could be approached by someone praying. 

We have no recordings of it, though of course 

In the basement of the Museum, we have some stuffed 

Moth-eaten specimens—the Lesser Ruffed 

And Yellow Spotted—filed in narrow drawers. 

But its song is lost. If it was related to 

A species of Quiet, or of another feather, 

No researcher can know. Not even whether 

A breeding pair still nests deep in the bayou, 

Where legend has it some once common bird 

Decades ago was first not seen, not heard.

Source: Poetry Foundation

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  • Have fun!