Note: I have not even read over this yet, I wrote it quickly and just wanted to share. For context, Flamingo land nearly got planning permission to build a resort on Loch Lomond in Scotland. Loch Lomond is a huge part of Scotland's culture and we are a country proud of our scenery and natural environment and this caused outrage. The Poem is about this!


‘What kind of a place is a loch for flamingos?

Pink exotic birds in Stirling, no one would believe such a thing.’

No grannie, these are made of steel and faux.

They don't have a heart just mechanical parts not even a feather or a wing.

Even though they aren't real it’s a cruel ordeal,

Like a polar bear in a zoo, it is no place fit for it.

These birds will take the space of the squirrels and deer,

And the money they will hold for it will be counterfeit.

The locals will be angry as their commutes have doubled,

And a country proud of its wildness will lose its most notable space.

Nothing will be brought to the area but trouble,

And nothing but greed in will be put in its place.

When I am a grannie, the Loch may be filled with flamingos,

And the land we once held holy will be one where wildflowers no longer grow.