1. Pestilence
I bring you sickness,
plagues of all shape and size-
do you feel unwell?
2. War
Battles that you hate,
pointless death to one and all,
and for what purpose?
3. Famine
Not a morsel there,
in your empty cupboard bare –
eat of the thin air.
4. Death
Well, it’s at an end,
and what a relief, my friend;
off to Hell you go!
Whodve thought it?
The First National Apostrophe Shortage – in history.
Its here!
It couldve been averted,
maybe shouldve been;
but wasnt.
“Whatll happen now?”
Weve not got long to wait,
Shallnt be more than a while,
“Cant we do anything?”
No. Shouldve acted sooner;
stocked up, panic bought,
provided for the unknown future.
“Wouldve it made a difference
if we hadve done so?”
Dramatically (and grammatically) speaking,
No. Weve mucked it up –
thats what weve done.
“Oh.”
Thats the spirit.
It’s not the end of the world (as we might know it), but the end of the end – with all the bells and whistles ringing loud.
Just five minutes left
until the end of the world –
time for a Haiku?
I have just been told
that the world ends
in three days!
Surely, I just have the time
for a little rhyme
or two?
But, if it turns out
that they’ve miscalculated the date
YET AGAIN,
it would be an awful pain,
not to mention
the awkwardness of having to organise
the reinstatement
of the futuristic dimension –
which would then re-exist –
and of us having to face next Monday
with all the stoicism and bluster
that we can muster.
I’ve been doing some thinking;
some green-sky thinking;
thinking,
wondering what it would be like
if the sky was green;
“What do you mean, ‘the sky, green?”
Well, it’s normally blue, or cloudy white
or fifty-one shades of grey –
sometimes with a pinkish hue
seen on a particularly fine day.
I’ve been thinking,
thinking about what it would mean
if the sky turned green;
not with an invasion of little green beings
from Mars,
not that sort of thinking;
nor by the reflection of the grass;
but, by the toxic waste fumes –
that sort of thing.
I’ve been thinking,
green-sky thinking,
about what it would be like
if we had a green sky,
and, by and by, I think
‘my, oh my!’,
or phrases slightly stronger than that,
which can’t be spoken
in genteel, polite society.
I’ve been thinking,
green-sky thinking,
because I’m that sort of guy;
thinking about green skies;
I’m not that wise,
you can tell when you look into my eyes;
after you have asked me a question
and it’s not just indigestion,
it’s confusion,
there’s no delusion
that this planet is heading towards a green sky…
… and then it will die.
“Ten!”
The ‘End’ is nigh!
“Nine!”
The destruction of our race!
“Eight!”
“Help us, oh Lord!”
“Seven!”
What to do?
“Six!”
We just haven’t a clue!
“Five!”
Make love to you?
“Four!”
Kiss ass ‘goodbye?’
“Three!”
You mustn’t see me cry.
“Two!”
It’s almost time!
“One!”
Don’t want to die!
“Zero!”
Au revoir cruel world!
“Zero…!” (Click) “Restart!”
“Ten!”
What? ‘Ten!’ Again!
“Nine!”
Are you having a laugh?
“Eight!”
This is stupid!
“Seven!”
It’s faulty!
“Six!”
I’ll have to take it back.
“Five!”
‘Early Warning!’
“Four!’”
A bit worried.
“Three!”
In fact, a ‘lot’ worried!
“Two!”
Where shall I hide?
“One!”
I can’t decide!
“Zero!”
Farewell my life, my…
“Zero…!” (Click!) “Restart!”
“Ten!”
Right! That’s ‘it!’
“Ten!”
It’s definitely wrong!
“Ten!”
Bl**dy device!
“Ten!”
Oh, give me strength!
“Ignition! You are now dead.”
…………………………………….
“April Fool!”
What the…………!
Posted in @infograe, @poemmegroup, Apocalypse, Eight, Haiku, hangerfarmpoets, HelpMe Group, poem, Poetry, Ten, War Poem?
Tagged Apocalypse, Ten
Graeme Sandford 