Brexit Sonnet No.21 – ‘This Emerald Isle’

So where’s it gone, this border fraught of ours?
It can’t be seen, this separation sore,
Drawn ‘cross troubled Isle by warlike Mars;
Scratched on map by infected hand of war.
Ignored by happy breed of Brexit man,
This spectre’s yet to come to Leaver’s feast,
Its fortress build and scupper faultlined plan,
With moat defensive, to drown the Brexit Beast.
So letteth not your Brexit lover’s passion
Be chilled or damped by spectre’s waiting rage.
Ignore it by all means and truth do ration,
And think of happier things that turn your page.
This blessed plot, this earth, this Emerald Isle,
Must choketh not on Brexit’s bitter bile.

©Keith Murphy