Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Poetry Thursday 130 - Conference season



The conference season is in full swing and our screens are adorned more frequently than usual with freshly polished images of those who occasionally turn up at the House of Commons.


Conference Season

Promises, promises

They smile glibly at the screen
and try to explain what they mean.
But if the unvarnished truth were known
the plethora of words is often windblown.

Promises, promises

Hair slicked down, faces polished,
this law, that tax will be abolished.
But the depth of their laboured honesty
fails to eclipse their innate creativity.

Promises, promises

When will they realise that their role
should be to represent us after the poll.
And not to revert to their former habit
of hiding away like a frightened rabbit.

Promises, promises

It would be a source of surprise and wonder
should you represent the people’s thunder.
And then risk the wrath of the government whips
to support the populace’s diamond chips.

Promises, promises

I suppose when May has come and gone
and a brand new government's decided upon
things will revert to that which we know
the House of Commons establishment show!
© David L Atkinson October 2014

God Bless