MAGPIE TALES
THEY TRIED
I'm accustomed to the year three-thousand;
This life seems normal to me.
But, sometimes, I am reminded
Of how life used to be.
I believe that once there were flowers,
And a booming population;
But I have never known anything
But dust and devastation.
We're the End-Of-Time generation;
Procreation stopped long ago;
We know that life is ending,
Though the ending has been slow.
I passed this rusty artifact
As I walked the other day,
And it reminded me of the fact
That it need not have been this way.
It was nearly a thousand years ago
That people realised
That they were living on a planet
Which should have been greatly prized.
But, by then, the time was running short;
The race was nearly run;
Too late they realised that their hope
Lay in the wind and sun.
They footled around with windmills
And other ways and means;
But the urge to quarrel and disagree
Was in everybody's genes.
This rusty piece of technology
Bears witness to human pride;
They never did find the answer.
Oh well, at least they tried.
*
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ODD!
Very odd! Odd indeed! That a scene so full of colour
Should still look lovely in monochrome when it should look so much duller!
We were at the lake and the sky was blue and the clouds were snowy white
While the colour of the water were changeable and bright.
It was sometimes blue and turquoise and sometimes even mauve,
With flashes of brown and silver! Quite a treasure-trove!
The paddle-boats were gaudy, with red and yellow hues,
Contrasting with the waters ever-changing blues.
Only the trees were constant, still very gaunt and dark,
Softened by Springtime greenery, yet remaining looming, stark.
Take away the colour? Surely nothing would remain!
To show such a scene in monochrome almost went against the grain.
Yet, in black and white, a depth appears, in varying shades of grey,
And I'm once again reminded of a very colourful day.
*
