The Sinking Ship - Poem by George Krokos
The ship is sinking and we all have to get out
I wonder if there are enough life boats about,
that are able to take us safely to the distant shore
where we may live happily for a while once more.
The old boat is going down as it has had its day
and all that we know and love is passing away.
It seems strange and sad how this has come about
but the evidence is clear without a shadow of doubt.
For those who have been prepared the way is certain
but for those who are not there's an invisible curtain
between them and that to where they could be going
as the paths to that destination are not at all showing.
There's been too many changes in a world gone mad
and so many of them have only turned out to be bad.
And when people think too much of themselves and so little of others
they perpetuate ignorance which neglects we’re all sisters and brothers.
As people also demand more than personal things of need
it usually only results in satisfying an obsession with greed.
If this is too strong a statement to which many will object
there are subtle implications that will prove it to be correct.
Some individual transitions will provide the necessary steps to begin
as this will set the example for other things to follow suit and be akin
to the general trend that usually determines the way and pace
which gains momentum at times for most of the human race.
The systems of nature existing must be maintained for survival
and this means that there will have to be quite a major revival.
As there's really so much around which we now all stand to lose
if we don't do anything about it there'll be nothing left to choose.
In viewing the situation clearly we must all understand the cost
of everything we have now before it's all forever completely lost.
And if this seems too much now for most people to consider
then it will be more so when there's no alternative to deliver.
Comments about The Sinking Ship by George Krokos
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye