Poetry Day, England.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,

Your time  is  running  out, you’ve  lost  your  style.

Over crowded, over stretched, under valued, under siege

All that  is great is  gone, not  much left  for  us, is  there  my liege.

 

Our leaders  are all in disarray,

They have not  a  word of  truth to say.

Under last orders, under threat

That  we  are  sinking is  a safe  bet.

 

All our  hope  and  pride  are gone

Rule  Britannia a  worn out  song.

This is  my land  and I love it  dear

Sadly  sinking is  this  isle I fear.

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16 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Paul
    Oct 08, 2015 @ 21:32:11

    Hmmm, a perspective to be sure Willow. The photos are gorgeous – you have captured the essence of the scene. I happen to agree with you- and yet when I speak to the young generation I see the desire for excitement, for interaction, for busyness, for human constructs. Your second picture perfectly captures that.

    Reply

    • willowdot21
      Oct 09, 2015 @ 06:55:30

      It is a poem written in sadness and fear as I see standards and hopes going down the plug hole. There is no hope it seems, the younger generation will have to work until they drop, they cannot afford to buy houses or flats . The future is bleak I worry.xxx

      Reply

  2. Lynz Real Cooking
    Oct 08, 2015 @ 23:24:27

    Very nice!!

    Reply

  3. sheridegrom - From the literary and legislative trenches.
    Oct 09, 2015 @ 17:17:35

    It seems we aren’t alone in our fray. Perhaps that’s what makes having coffee seem so special — I’ve honestly come to enjoy a cup or two while sitting without rushing off someplace with a to-go cup in my hand. Sure, I still have days when I don’t have the luxury of the ‘sit down’ but they are appreciated when they happen.

    Reply

  4. markbialczak
    Oct 11, 2015 @ 22:34:35

    I hope not, Willow, very much.

    Reply

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