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Molten Man

I am a molten man;

My flabby, molten face

Is looking up at you

As you beam down from space.


I used to look quite nice

When common sense ruled here,

In times we did not trash

The assets of this sphere.


You visitors would see

A smart, contented Earth,

Which knew instinctively

How to respect its worth.


But sadly man has struck

And chopped and ground to dust

The goodness of the place

To satisfy his lust.


He has consumed and fouled

Resources everywhere

And spread his poison through

The planet and its air.


So now I drip like wax

And vanish in the heat,

And we, my welcome friends,

Will have no chance to meet.


For we have lost the right

To populate this globe,

Whose thriving silhouette

Our kind chose to disrobe.


So now it's up to you

To turn this ship around,

To mend the atmosphere

And consecrate the ground.

climate change

◄ Hroza

If Only ►


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Stephen Gospage

Fri 13th Oct 2023 07:17

Indeed, John. As I said, it's like turning a ship around, and no one has the will to do it.

And my thanks to Nigel, Frederick, Graham, Holden, Your Royal Poetess, Pete, Hélène, Manish and Alexandra.

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John Coopey

Wed 11th Oct 2023 11:02

We’re barely a second to midnight on Earth’s clock yet we’ve managed to fudge it up good and proper. God must have been pretty dumb not to have seen this coming!

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