mild frenzy

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they lined up

in their smart suits and executive hair

outside the foundation stone

of a nations ruin ready to eulogise

to heap praise upon a legacy

of division


the traffic slowed

and the tempers frayed in a burg

where there is never enough

most had left by 8PM

save one expecting maybe

a ghost?


returning at the earliest light

most had moved into town

I popped my head inside a truck and said

"she's still dead you know"

one yet remains

awaiting the stone to roll back


my wife, the daughter of a miner,

council bread and butter raised

nods, obligingly at the checkout

as she scans the customers cloying praise

"its nice about the flowers isn’t it"

yes” she replies “they look great on my fireplace


she reads people writing

the miners were greedy and she spits

"tell that to those with emphysema,

white knuckle and crippled joints

go stand by the graves of the hundreds that died

better still come here and say it to my face"

(note: I live on the road that Margaret Thatcher wa born on, the home of the Roberts Greengrocery. Yesterday and today the town and road have been assailed by media from around the world. What they expected to find I do not know)


◄ I'm working dammit

Itchy ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 16th Apr 2013 10:44

I totally agree with Solar - the only poem I felt inclined to comment upon. It's basically the same points but presented without the 'rant' element and therefore, IMO, more penetrating.

<Deleted User> (6895)

Fri 12th Apr 2013 17:57

another gem Paul-thank you.xx

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Paul Sands

Thu 11th Apr 2013 20:09

Thank you so much

<Deleted User> (9882)

Thu 11th Apr 2013 19:23

If one might be so bold as to say-
this is THE best of the Maggie musings.

Great piece of social(ish)history.x

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