Poetry Uncategorized

A Golden Shovel after a line from MacNeice’s Bagpipe Music

Sliding forth from their schools and their

colleges, their ancient bedecked halls;

still these wretched noble scions are

heading into limousines soft lined,

grasping for power. Each imbued  with

lust for glory; rapacious like a young tiger.

How can we pull out rugs

from under privilege and

with avenging trumpets shake their

insolence? Tumble down the walls

of undeserved unearned wealth with

determination and yet with level heads

without acrimony or taint of

dishonour cast them into the past like trophy horns of bison.

Posh Boys: How the English Public Schools Ruin Britain: ...


By penwithlit

Freelance writer and radio presenter

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