Politics, Random poetry Add comments


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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