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Duke  Orphan  Condo  Not  Dozens  Extremist  Daring  Smuggler  Bonus


I switch on and immerse myself:

Invite a duke into my livingroom,

Care deeply about some poor orphan

(Who doesn’t exist)

Watch as some rich person

Swithers over which condo

They’ll pick, featuring many

Fantastic ‘mod-cons’.


I am not looking (on purpose)

At dozens of children

Lying in squalor

Far too sick to move;

Or watching the fall-out

From shelling and conflict,

Extremist values –

Or those buried in earth.


I open my purse-strings,

I sob at the images –

Praise the daring heroes

Of first-aid and food! –

But go back to tall stories

Of some sneaky smuggler,

While cuddling my offspring

Safe: bonus of locale.


There are things I would change about the above.

The first is that the generated words actually say ‘riot’ as the fourth word but, as it was pretty small on my screen, I unfortunately read it as ‘not’ and have only just realised while typing this post up *slaps forehead* it would have fitted in quite nicely, too…

Secondly, I don’t like the first eight lines.  The next two stanzas have a rhythm, dammit, and the first one doesn’t but I ran out of time ☹

The last line jars me, as well.

But the poem outlines how I’m feeling. I have watched the whole of the first series of Fringe in the last week, flirted with a few episodes of Downton Abbey, and have now moved on to re-watching Angel, all because sitting in front of the news is far too much wincing reality to take at the moment!

What are you making of it all?  Am I the only one who wishes she could just keep the kids in some bubble of protection (with a library), and maybe hang out with hubby in there too?!


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