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Open Poetry #49
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Cari
Member
Posts 411
Englnand

0 posted 2015-12-12 06:39 PM





It’s easy to accept the culture
of the Victorian myth makers
Engage romanticism in overdrive
A Miss Marple landscape rests easy
in Shakespeare’s sceptered Isle
~
Reality is submersed in a soup of make believe
The truth struggling to emerge from
a cauldron of comforting nostalgia
Stand in orderly lines and wait your turn
To admire the ages of our stolen wealth
~
Marvel at the Gothic country estates
Eat your sandwiches on sculptured lawns
Purchased by the favours of a monarchs harlot
Hail to the kings of the cotton towns
Who grew rich on children’s labour
~
Never seek to lift the veil
Remember Liverpool as the home of the Beatles
Not for the slave ships at anchor in the docks
Patriotism is flavoured with illusion
So be content; raise your voices and sing.


© Copyright 2015 Cari - All Rights Reserved
DaysofView
Member
since 2014-04-01
Posts 433
Just A Slice Of The Pie
1 posted 2015-12-12 07:05 PM


You write some of the best poetry but the place where your from is curious honey. You better check where your from because I don't know where Englnand is, leastwise that's what it says.

It was just a thought which made them run. It was just an act that killed them.

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA
2 posted 2015-12-12 08:23 PM


enjoyed reading these thoughts...james
Cari
Member
Posts 411
Englnand
3 posted 2015-12-13 07:26 AM


Love of ones county is a wholesome thing, over the top patriotism is something else. Whenever the tunes of a nation’s glory are sung they have to compete with the sound of the skeletons beating on the cupboard door.
It’s the same for all nations, they all airbrush their past.
Sad but true.
Oh yes and England is my country.

Thanks for reading.

Cari
Member
Posts 411
Englnand
4 posted 2015-12-13 08:03 AM


Love of ones county is a wholesome thing, over the top patriotism is something else. Whenever the tunes of a nation’s glory are sung they have to compete with the sound of the skeletons beating on the cupboard door.
It’s the same for all nations, they all airbrush their past.
Sad but true.
Oh yes and England is my country.

Thanks for reading.

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