A Poem For Stephen
– by Larry Powell
‘Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the land
global warming was here. \
It was grand! It was grand!
Cars would start!
Ice would melt!
Folks wore their light clothes,
while up through their chimneys
mere wisps of smoke rose!
On the air one could hear
mindless broadcasters say
"It's eleven degrees.
But up at the pole it was not Santa's day.
Two of his reindeer had just passed away.
Dasher and Dancer had sadly drowned
while playing with mates confined to the ground.
There was a river they could normally cross.
But its ice had grown thin in the tenuous frost.
The two were not helped by the fact they could fly.
And the cold, clear water is where they did die.
The great bears of the north had met similar ends.
Just as learn-ed scholars did indeed portend.
Christmas day dawned, but alas, 'twas not white!
Lawns were brown, fields were black. It just didn't seem right!
The skis and toboggans the kids had received were soon tossed aside
just like old Christmas trees.
"The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below."
A decade from now when these words are intoned
will their image be real - or merely a poem?
and all through the land
global warming was here. \
It was grand! It was grand!
Cars would start!Ice would melt!
Folks wore their light clothes,
while up through their chimneys
mere wisps of smoke rose!
On the air one could hear
mindless broadcasters say
"It's eleven degrees.
Hope this thaw lasts 'til May!”
But up at the pole it was not Santa's day.
Two of his reindeer had just passed away.
Dasher and Dancer had sadly drowned while playing with mates confined to the ground.
There was a river they could normally cross.
But its ice had grown thin in the tenuous frost.
The two were not helped by the fact they could fly.
And the cold, clear water is where they did die.
The great bears of the north had met similar ends.
Just as learn-ed scholars did indeed portend.
Christmas day dawned, but alas, 'twas not white!
Lawns were brown, fields were black. It just didn't seem right!
The skis and toboggans the kids had received were soon tossed aside
just like old Christmas trees.
"The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below."A decade from now when these words are intoned
will their image be real - or merely a poem?
Comments
C'est la veille de Noël
et partout sur la terre
réchauffement climatique
C'est critique! C'est critique!
Les autos roulent!
Les glaces déboulent!
Continuez votre fumée,
Portez votre linge d'été
À l'année longue!
À la radio, on peut écouter
la météo qui déconne:
"Il fait onze degrés.
Çà gèlera pas cette année!
Mais au Pôle Nord, le Père Noël pleure:
Deux de ses rennes ont vécu leur dernière heure.
Tornade et Furie se sont malheureusement noyés
en jouant avec les autres qui ne pouvaient pas voler.
Il y avait une rivière qu'ils pouvaient habituellement traverser.
Mais la glace était trop mince, à cause de la température réchauffée.
Pouvoir voler ne les a pas aidés
Et c'est dans l'eau froide qu'ils ont trépassés.
Les grands ours du nord ont connu une fin semblable
Comme avaient prédit les scientifiques honorables.
La journée de Noël est arrivée, mais elle n'est pas enneigée!
La pelouse est jaunie, les champs sont noirs. Tout est dérangé!
Les skis et les patins de tous nos amis
sont mis de côté comme de vieux sapins dégarnis
"La lune à l'horizon de la nouvelle neige fraîchement tombée éclaire comme en plein jour les objets ici-bas."
Quand ces mots seront prononcés, dans une décennie,
Leurs images seront-elles réalité, ou que de la poésie?