Category History

Rotten Borough – dVerse

freyathewriter 34 Comments

I want to connect with you, deep down inside

but I’m deeply disturbed by your tissue of lies,

in front of others, you’re polished and sleek –

you manage to obscure just what hides beneath.

You’ve done it before, the veneer has been fine

and your gift of the gab has played tricks with my mind.

You’ve courted, persuaded, played to my tune,

dazzled and sparkled, my energy’s consumed.

Resistance is futile, you believe in your power

whilst my boat of lost hope is bound to founder

on rocks of persuasion; as politicians stand

I can’t help but wondering – are we all damned?

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———-

This week, on dVerse Meeting the Bar, Karin has asked us to write in slant, or near rhyme, which I enjoy both reading, and writing. I’m posting early and linking up to Karin’s post later, as I will be hot-footing it to the polling station to vote in the European elections. As you can see from my poem, I do wonder at the sanity of it all, but better to vote than not at all, that’s not in question. My personal politics, other than ones I have shared before on the future of our planet are not for here, but I imagine you have a fair idea of the sorts of things I really can’t abide.

By the way, the title of my piece, ‘Rotten Borough’, is the name that was used for parliamentary boroughs or constituencies in the UK which had a very small electorate and could be used by a patron to gain undue influence in the House of Commons until the Reform Act of 1832, which disenfranchised them. For example, Old Sarum in Wiltshire had 3 house, 7 voters and 2 Members of Parliament! See Wikipedia for more examples!

Please pop over to dVerse to see how others have risen to the slant rhyme challenge – I will be hooking up and linking up later!

 

 

Remembrance Day – for Combat Stress

freyathewriter 2 Comments

I was not just enshrined in black and white
trained to react to a whistle
and launch myself over the top
I didn’t just stare at No Man’s Land
jumping at every falling leaf
nerves shot to pieces, trembling with fear
I was not just shipped hastily to Europe
attempting to aid our Allies
in facing down the Nazi machine
I was not just despatched to the Mediterranean
sand-whipped and sweating
to fight in a theatre far flung from home
I am not a romantic notion of old boys and idealism
telling war stories of camaraderie
I am not decades past.
I am the young man hobbling down the street
I am the hands held out for a bit of spare change
I am the woman bound to a wheelchair
I am the mental health patient facing down the day
I am sitting next to you on the bus.
I am here.
Remember, I am here.

****

I first wrote this poem for Remembrance Day last November, but I noticed that Monday 12th May 2014 marks 95 years since an amazing UK charity, Combat Stress, has been helping armed forces veterans overcome mental illness. I (or Freya’s real-life, living, breathing, alter-ego) will be making a donation to this charity, because it is vitally important that their work continues. In World War One, some soldiers were put on trial, even executed, for desertion and cowardice when exhibiting symptoms of shell shock, or what we now know to be PTSD. People who volunteer their lives for us should be given all the help they can get. I hope you will spread the word.

Reclaimed – VisDare 60

freyathewriter 6 Comments

‘I have saved them – they are not lost, thank goodness, oh thank goodness!’

Judah’s thoughts raced and he released a shuddering sigh, expelling the pent-up adrenalin of the past hours. All he had left in the world, and he had snatched it from destruction with moments to spare. Someone – or something – was smiling down on him.

“Hey, hands off the truck, this haul is mine, mate!”

Judah’s hot temper flashed momentarily, but he knew when he was beaten – he had no energy left for a fight with Solly, the local prize-fighter. The time for acting first, thinking later, was gone. Times had changed.

As the truck coughed into life and roared away, he turned to his small daughters standing expectantly behind him – his only reason for living, now and always.

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After a long absence, I decided to return to Angela’s VisDare prompt, where the challenge is to respond, in 150 words or less, to the photo she puts up on her blog each week. Something about this photo really pulled me in, so the story wrote itself – result! I had in mind refugees escaping conflict – I have used Jewish/Yiddish names, because that is the tie in history I know most about, but sadly, the situation can be easily transferred to any conflict where civilians are the victims…

I hope you enjoy it, please do take part. I’ll be linking up now and commenting on other contributions later!