Deeply moving. . .
Al Gore has written a moving poem about climate change. Perhaps readers of Telegraph blogs would care to follow his example. There’s a prize in it for the best one. The winner will receive a copy of Christopher Booker’s superb The Real Global Warming Disaster.
The competition closes midnight on Sunday. Just post your entry below. (Entries only please; save your comments for my non-poetry-related blogs).
Here are some themes you might want to consider:
Thoughts of a majestic polar bear as he gazes mournfully over the warming oceans from his melting ice cap.
Does anything rhyme with George Monbiot?
How the heroic MSM is threatening to put the internet out of business with its full and frank coverage of the Climategate scandal.
Ode to Lumumba Stanislaus Di-Aping.
How each drip of a melting glacier is like the tear of a dying child.
ManBearPig
“I have a mansion, forget the price….” The Al Gore song.
There that should be enough to keep you going. Here’s one already from blog reader Joe. I’m not saying it’s a winner, but I hope it gets everyone into the right spirit:
Roses are red, violets are blue, algore is a crook and his friends smell of poo
Oh, and in case you need a crib for parody purposes here is Al Gore’s meisterwerk.
One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun
Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea
Neptune’s bones dissolve
Snow glides from the mountain
Ice fathers floods for a season
A hard rain comes quickly
Then dirt is parched
Kindling is placed in the forest
For the lightning’s celebration
Unknown creatures
Take their leave, unmourned
Horsemen ready their stirrups
Passion seeks heroes and friends
The bell of the city
On the hill is rung
The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
Here are your tools
Related posts:
- Climategate: Al Gore spews the usual nonsense but this time no one believes him
- Gore fakes ‘proof’ of Man Made Global Warming shock
- Climategate: what Gore’s useful idiot Ed Begley Jr doesn’t get about the ‘peer review’ process
- Climategate goes uber-viral, Gore flees leaving evil henchmen to defend crumbling citadel
One Response to “Climategate: the inaugural Al Gore prize poetry competition”
A flagon of good wine when he reached home
And was refreshed. His feudal labour owned his lord,
But the vine that brought his cheer was all his own.The captain of a century upon the wall looked over
Pictish country, far from southern seas
But a handful of olives from a local grove
Awaked remembrance of Roman ease.
Now they rest from their labour both and consider the times
And ask what became of their summers of old;
And our olives and wine come from southern climes
And the centuries wonder, “Is it not rather too cold?”