(25th March 1943 / )

An Alien Place

Our scorched earth erupts into belligerent flames,
Fanned by the wind, they sweep very fast down the plain,
They seem to delight, in their playing of these games,
When blue skies can deliver no deluge of rain.

Burnt down and blackened, all the tree trunks stand stark,
Leaving this wide landscape like an alien place,
Smoke billowing, the harsh flames start licking the bark,
Like huge hungry tongues that fear forfeiting the race.

Hastening onwards, with a strong wild winning urge,
With impetus, flora and fauna devouring,
Stripping the land bare, as it starts on its mad surge,
This fire, that has come to be so overpowering.

These flames ever feeding, engulf at such a speed,
Everything in their wake, is now changed into dust,
But from this devastation, each tiny new seed,
Will shoot new once again from this earth's ravaged crust.

© Ernestine Northover

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Comments (10)

Scientists say the whole Earth will be like this in a few billion years time, as the sun gets bigger and hotter. At least your starkly beautiful poem offers salvation in the last two lines. Paul.
From out of the ashes new life grows, wonderful imagery again. Great poem. Andrew x
Ernestine, This one brings back memories of the horrendous bushfires of 1962, which swept through the pretty town of Warrandyte where our family lived. You have described admirably the belligerence of the flames when the North Wind rages, but also the miraculous re-growing, almost within 24 hours. In Australia the eucalypts return like blackened sticks covered with fine green lace, and within a couple of years the bush is back. love, Allie xxxxxxxx
A powerful piece, Ernestine. Those last two lines are the icing on the cake. Love, Fran xx
Marvellous write Ernestine.From Earths devestation comes re-birth.Dramatic full of life and very relevent to todays unstable world.Nature wins out in the end. Best Regards, Sid John xxx
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