1. Re-using a first line
I went for Wordsworth’s ‘Daffodils’...
I'm squandered, lonely as a clown,
Who skips and capers to amuse,
But all the while the tears flow down,
A painted smile the jester's bruise,
Before the crowd, down on my knees,
Though I may cry, laugh at me please.
Who skips and capers to amuse,
But all the while the tears flow down,
A painted smile the jester's bruise,
Before the crowd, down on my knees,
Though I may cry, laugh at me please.
2. A poem that lies
As we all know, politics is a world of lies, and so…
Staking
out your colours
(AKA 'On the divisiveness of party politics')
Our little cul-de-sac,
A village in a suburb in a town,
Neighbours pass the time of day,
Sometimes even socialise,
Watch each others’ houses while away,
Feed the cat, take in parcels,
Chat across the fence,
(Avoiding politics and religion, natch)
Until dishonesty and spite,
Combined to force a minor turmoil,
And colour-headed sticks sprouted overnight –
Many orange, some red, none blue,
But two stand out,
Barking purple bile at passers-by,
Now a few weeks on, the sticks have gone,
The new incumbent lives across the road,
But eyes that met with small-but-social nod,
Are now averted,
Or seem to seek a lost thing on the ground,
A contact lens maybe.
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