Chimney Smoke
My chimney smoke billows, streams and puffs,
Peacefully wafting o'er the bluffs,
Drifting further, merging with clouds,
That act as our blankets, our mantles, our shrouds.
O the good Earth is spinning around and around,
And the sun ever shines without making a sound,
And the hearth in my house is burning some wood,
Crackling and popping like a good fire should.
Yes we laughed and we cried and we had such a ball,
Was all of this something after all?
'I know not our strange plot, ' said the tired, old man,
Then returned to the spot where his whole life began.
Immense and stupendous with checkerboard floors,
We push forward like pawns down the long corridors,
Capturing pieces like killing machines,
Yearning to turn into quantum queens!
There's blood in the streets and there's blood in the fields,
There are bird-picked bones by the broken shields,
And the cycle continues forevermore,
Massacres, genocides, holocausts, war!
And when we look back at all that's been done,
In the name of survival, development, fun,
Will we try to correct the mistakes that were made?
Or live to regret them, forget them, and fade…
poem by Joshua Dinkin
Added by Poetry Lover
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