Hello!
I once more came to my pen and notebook, hoping to write something about the election.
I have been watching the coverage on the BBC off and on all day. I unfortunately had to go to bed early, and not watch the election last night, due to somehow managing to pull a muscle in my left side while lowering myself to lie on the couch (?!) so I’ve been hugging my hot water bottle a lot and moving gingerly!
Again, the generator listened to my subconscious, and gave me fitting words:
Promised Purple Hook Accountable Believe Afraid Carrion Brush Drugstore
But the promised triumph
Lay in tatters by her feet –
Her pride growing purple
From his best hook.
Yet she still felt accountable,
Still willing to believe;
Though afraid that the carrion call
Would summon many…
She took a moment
To brush down her suit –
Grimaced as she swallowed
A drugstore-full of bitter pills:
Caustic fruits of Labour.
I am actually very pleased with how the poem turned out 😉
The country will take a bit of work, however!
Interesting times ahead for Britain, it would seem…
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