“Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” (attributed to Winston Churchill)
Sunday – a rainy day in late June,2016.
The dust is settling,
the leaflets, posters, social media messages, badges
are tumbling forlorn, misspent
nose diving through the ether and the recycling bins.
A nation where a joyful, 52 per cent,
celebrate the gift, apparently,
(Though there’s future hell to be raised,
This referendum now
as ever they were
an unwieldy hammer
to the half split nail
of popular thought
and the nation’s been sold
a blunt and dulling, instrument.
” the people spoke”
(though with only half a voice,
and, a quarter besides,
If you happen to have
you can “like it or lump it”.
For this outcome,
the, all too slight majority,
Depending where, you placed your cross,
join in with,
or tolerate, the triumphant grins,
(though it is hard to joke,
when your breakfast vote
has caused you to choke).
Is there scope to placate?
Or simply the case :
“Get on with it”
“Get over it”
Live with the loss.
Now we all, must wait and see,
the outcome of this heavy handed
dose of democracy.
Yes, perhaps some sovereignty will be restored
European laws – as with some people –
excluded and forlorn,
can be tossed
“We’ve got our country back”.
Village greens can echo to cricket and cream teas,
warm beer, good cheer, the gentle buzzing of the soporific bees.
Markets can crash, governments fall,
who knows, perhaps,
we’ve instigated the collapse of the European Wall.
And we needn’t worry
about the Great Divide,
the angry voice,
of youth, denied.
And, who needs the Union?
Let it fall to its knees.
For we’ve smashed the bureaucrats
stuffed the fat cats
given the politicians a bloody nose
” It’ll all work out well”
(Nervously spoken, whisper it)
” We suppose? ”
The Leave campaigners, must now
for all of us
do the very best they can.
And we have to be sure
(for these are “conviction politicians”)
that they wouldn’t have got us into
this, “short term” mess,
without a very substantial Plan?
The lines in the sand are drawn
new flags unfurled.
I’ll sit and await
(Europe, still born)
the arrival of this
Brave New World.
Marc Mordey 26 6 16
I love this mans work – there’s poetry in photography too. Hope you enjoy.
I don’t recall having been asked to write a poem for a specific occasion before (I did once get asked to read my poetry at a wedding, in what turned out to have been the erstwhile home of Tennyson..I remember thinking that he must have been spinning in his grave!!) – so it was both honouring ,and daunting, to be asked to write for the wedding of two friends. They gave me some key words and I gave them this poem. I hope they like it. And I hope they enjoy long life and great happiness….
Remembered Hills – for Christine and Peter, on your wedding day, 2nd June 2016.
the hills above Black Patch farm
bore witness to our- breath taking – change of heart.
Dancing beneath the moon
smiling serenely above,
wine swung whirls, tenacious twirls,
‘if music be the food of love:
The snowdrops saw love take hold,
and bluebells nodded sagely in fields,
bounded by lakes,
as we fell forward to one another.
The sea sweetly sighed and sang for us as
we wandered together
beached, sand dusted, hand held to each,
the other, entrusted.
Old Harry Rocks gazed upon
as benignly cliff side gulls
wheeled and whirled apparently,
altogether well disposed as ,
word finely, precise, perceptive
you proposed – and I accepted.
magical places sacred spaces.