Archaeology's Dirty Little Secrets

I'm just about done with this wonderful course on archaeology on Coursera, and as one of my assignments I was asked to be creative around the title. In a panic induced state caused because till about half an hour before the assignment was due I had no idea what to do, I created the poem below. And it turned out quite good, even if I say so myself :D

Archaeology is my passion
Yet I'm struggling with this submission
To put these past weeks into words
Is something that can be done well by nerds

Secrets to the uninformed mind
One needs to join this course
To find others of the same kind
I did so, and now these secrets are mine

Big terms like archaeological reconnaissance
Made no sense once upon a time
But now I know these and many more
It's very difficult to find a rhyme

I watched videos
And learnt about techniques 
To dig, to study the past
Many of them left me aghast

I made chapatis for an assignment
And visited Mahabalipuram
About Pattanam I wrote
And about the voyage of a boat

About archaeology 
I'll learn much more soon
Thinking of it I'm over the moon
Finding out these secrets with Sue Alcock
Was a wonderful boon.

Mother Earth’s premonition

Hello! Yes it's been a long time. Apologies. Exams and such. But I have something very special. We have a post from a guest blogger, who goes by the name of Shuffles. This poem is an Earth Day special.
Also check out Shuffles's blog- http://foodologue.blogspot.in/
Aaand here comes the poem!!

Sita, the daughter of the Earth says,
“Happy Birthday dear Mamma
Its Earth Day today,
And to celebrate,
You need to go
To a holistic spa
Or degenerate!
You seem to have some rash
And stench- caused sniffles
And alongside the mountainous folds and vales
You are so proud of,
Some man made hill ranges
Baffle!”

Mother Earth says,
“I know, I know, I am hurting!
Tyres and plastics,
Clothes and nasty- icks,
Effluents released so caustic
I really fail to understand
how a race so intelligent
can create more trash than
than the rest of animal population!”

“Massages and therapies,
Soaps and spas,
won’t do me any good,
as long as people
throw away food!
Trash is not segregated
Vile elements not eliminated

The demons of Waste
They need to be slain!
Before the noir haze
victims on Earth claims!”

“As for my bruises:
No spa can clean them,
No doctor can heal them.
Go Sita, go
Go and tell them,
If they value the ground they walk on
Then think twice before they throw;
For what is mercilessly discarded
Is what turns around to bite them!”