Brexit Sonnet No. 134 – ‘Your Lonely Furrow Plough’
 

“Come on, concentrate, let’s get all this done.
Let’s put these crazy folk behind some wire,
For this war we fight must be won,
To reach the goal to which we do aspire.”
…Hold these thoughts, these crazy Empire notions,
For mankind dies if these ‘solutions’ tried.
Safe they weren’t! Just going through the motions,
That slippery slope - we began to slide.
In Glasgow tenements, Death stalked his prey alone
And chose the weak, the sick and blighted poor.
But on the veldt, a helping hand was shown;
Death - free rein gifted o’er imprisoned Boer.
Talk not your dispassionate calm excuses now,
If these your thoughts – your lonely furrow plough. 

© Keith Murphy