Chameleon (Only So Much You Can Do Before You Die)

Poem By Andrew Fincham

The Chameleon blinked as he entered the stage
(A popular act for an insecure age)
They applauded him on from the roof to the floor
(a recent review had been almost a page) .

He stood in the spotlight, a dignified green
The colour god made him – or so it would seem
The audience hushed for they knew what’s in store:
The master of image – the changeling supreme.

He smiled at the gallery, bowed to the stalls
Took in with a grin those that stood by the wall
He managed a wink for the girl by the door
It was not the first time that he’d played in this hall.

The silence was growing – the time was now right
For some fireworks (in colour) to light up the night
They needed some action – their lives were a bore
They’d paid just to sit there and drink in the sight.

The Chameleon stood there - he just didn’t move.
Always before there’d been something to prove
He suddenly didn’t know what it was for:
The crowd and its power, and forgetting to love.

They started to fidget, they started to shout
Throwing things of all colours that landed about
They hurled him abuse when they’d once called out ‘more! ’
And some in the cheap seats began to go out.

He felt for them, slightly. He’d not thought he’d dare
He’d hoped that they might not be quite so unfair
His heart knew he just wouldn’t do it no more
But somehow he’d hoped that some of them would care.

* * *

The chameleon looked at them straight in the eye

And turned into a butterfly.

Comments about Chameleon (Only So Much You Can Do Before You Die)

couldn't really bother to read it but, rubbish. And what i think is really annoying is that you go around telling other people that their poems are rubbish when you yourself dont have very good poems.
Nice poem, liked this : -)
This is quite good as a story, could stand a bit of renovation and the mention of (perhaps) the fact that the ch. is very fast with his tongue. In 1/64 th of a second he would have grabbed all the indifference etc. from the audience and left them with....NOTHING. Just an idea. But I like your style.

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Other poems of FINCHAM


When I think of all I've ever wanted to do
It all comes back to you,
Whom I've loved.


I love the clink & the chink and the scent
of the stink of it on a girl’s breath
and the draw, the lure of the mixing a drink of it
bottles of thick creamy stout

Before (In A Dream)

In a dream
I met you again
And wished so deeply
I could get to know you

Frightened Of Spiders

I was always frightened of spiders

I thought because
I was frightened of spiders.


Angel, you’re
Careless and