liberty

[eclipse]

The French tongue stretches to Scottish lowlands,talk
of revolution collects every strand of dissent
against an English parliament. Tories they joke
with the proles, a poets pen purges his torment
as swiftly as a guillotine,from a
basket a head whispers to his hangman
willing him to abandon his post,Burns tears
fabric from within,readers scout for strands
of revolution,weave and raise a banner
that demands an English parliaments gaze
banish the malaise,the union withers
law givers waver, a twitching head sways
in hands of a hangman who feels the rush
of dreams drowning away from his final hush.

[tonyv]

I look at the date of when you posted this, Barry. In hindsight the poem is remarkably prophetic when one considers the recent 55%-45% vote.