I wrote but not finish

Stephen Chinnock

24 January 2020

I write but not finish
Lots of poems
Seeking to find the centre
Of my troubled soul
What lies in the middle
Of this blackened landscape
That alludes me most
Is it the fear of
The fire itself
Roaring and tearing down
The best part
Of our once green
Peaceful part of paradise
Imagined forever
A place to reside
Safe from the vicissitudes
Of the wide world around
Turning other people’s
Lives upside down
But never ours
Well we got caught out
Big time
By turns of fate
Leaving us desperate
In a war zone
By the vagaries of climate
Our masters would
Have us believe
It’s business as usual
Nothing to make
A change in our policies
In the Land of Coal
Mustn’t disturb the economy
Won’t matter much
When the whole world
Is knocked out of balance
No longer sustaining an ecology
Delicately poised
Perhaps it is this ,the fear
For our marvellous planet
Highlighted so clearly
By Mr Attenborough
We are at the point
Of no returning
To the once green and pleasant land
The world of my childhood
And yours
More importantly
The little ones recently born
Face a bleak future
Because of the ignorance
Of our not leaders
In the midst of this storm
We can’t continue
To let them hold the tiller
Steering the boat
Of our lives
Leaving all wrecked
On the cosmic shore