Thursday, April 01, 2021

Socialist Sonnet No. 27

 The Rose, the Thistle and the Daffodil

The rose, the thistle and the daffodil

Are credited with national pride and power,

As if by simply picking a flower

There’s an expression of popular will,

By which to divide each from another.

All claim their soil is unique, special, pure,

But it turns out to be simply manure.

Folk defined by denying the brother

Or sister accident of birth has placed

The wrong side of a cartographer’s line,

As if a border lets people resign

Capital’s rule. It remains to be faced.

Rose, thistle and daffodil pay no heed

To maps or boundaries when sowing their seed.

D. A. 

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