A Jingle, By Jingo

A first stab at poetry on my low key return…


Lutyens’ 

heavy

testament

to Empire 

won’t make 

fallen soldiers 

welcome.

Nor will 

they tread 

its porch 

when ragged, 

clad in muddy boots.

 

In Imperial purple 

Thiepval’s 

torn ridge

is become 

Mycenae’s 

Lion Gate.

An arched 

proscenium 

that holds

the vaulted 

melody 

of Elgar’s work.

 

A forbidding 

nature,

a Mausoleum.

No place 

for the dead 

who lie 

instead,

cramped 

in the 

brooding 

shadow of 

circumstance 

and pride.

 

Insanity, 

enshrined in 

Music-Hall 

ditty, 

disfigures 

the work 

of genius.

Such vanity, 

a land of Hope 

and Glory.

While thousands 

lie neath 

monumental feet.

© franciman 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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amman

A classic sort of Jingle, Jim. ( I get the irony). Yeah, old Lutyens did like his monuments. I like the juxaposition between the grand and the lowly, the call of Imperial Empire and the reality of conflict. I may start posting again if you are going to be around. My first fav. under the new regime. Cheers. Tony.

ionicus

Exactly my sentiments, Jim. Jingoism can never be a fitting tribute to the fallen
Welcome back by the way and let’s hope that this time we shall have a less turbulent journey.

 <span title="Experienced Commenter" style="font-size : small; color: orange;">**</span><p>

What’s with the absurdly short lines?

 <span title="Experienced Commenter" style="font-size : small; color: orange;">**</span><p>

The lines in which your poem is written, Jim, are unusually short. As in, only one or two words long. Is there a particular reason for this?

 <span title="Experienced Commenter" style="font-size : small; color: orange;">**</span><p>

Are you genuinely interested in “viable critique”? Not everybody is. If you are, if that’s what you want, then I can indeed be rigorous with certain poems.

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