"pollsters" poems
On the twenty third of June, anniversary of my father’s death,
The United Kingdom voted to LEAVE the European Union.
It was a close-run thing:
Fifty two percent to forty eight,
Though over a million votes between.
A result that will go down in the annals of history.
Another vote the pollsters and bookmakers got wrong.
I voted Leave, confidently expecting to Lose!!!
My friends were split in two
As Remainers became ReMOANers!
For I’m now branded a nationalist, bigoted racist
Who has made a massive mistake.
But I insist: Britain has Rejoined the World
And Our Commonwealth.
We are reborn
So sure there will be teething troubles.
We’ll have to learn to walk and talk again.
Cast off your gloom, Remainers!
Rejoice the brand new day.
Britain can be great again
As the dawn chorus resonates around the globe.
Opportunity smiles down on us.
It won’t be easy,
But when ever was it so???
The Phoenix rises,
Unfurling its golden wings…
Paul Butters
© PB 27\6\2016.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
Profligate pundits and
Philandering plutocrats
Promulgating pusillanimous
Pandering polecats
Put partially putrescent
Punks and pettifoggers
Past pitifully puny pollsters
Pushing the party politics
Of petrified pashas.
Disgusting demagogues
Dealing delayed death
Deeming democracy dying
Deny diplomacy daily
Deftly develop departments
Defending discrimination
Dividing deities from devils
Draining dedicated duties
With disgusting dictatorship.
Sorrowfully sublimated
Citizens of society slide
Swiftly and sequentially into
Sibilant session of silliness
In which similes scintillate
Signifying sensitivities
Of separate sensibilities
Subtly smiting the senseless.
Sauce for the stunningly stupid,
Champagne for the saboteurs.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
by James Bruce
You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a Millard Filmore,
You’re the top!
You’re the Girls of Gilmore,
You’re lucidity’s not Huckabee’s weird views,
You’re an immigrator,
A great debator,
You’re not Ted Cruz!
You’re the style,
Of a Ronald Reagan,
You’re the smile of a foxxy Megyn,
Were you Hillary, you’d be pilloried, and flop!
But if Donald, Ailes’s the bottom, you’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re the Wall of China,
You’re the top!
You’re acute angina,
You’re hyperbole that’s a felony in Queens,
You’re Rand Paul’s mama,
Barack Obama,
You’re full of beans!
You’re the star,
Of the G.O.P. camp,
You’re a jam on a Christie bridge ramp,
I’m a crippling loan, a Roger Stone, a flop!
But if baby, Jeb’s sunk lower, you’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a well-coiffed dandy,
You’re the top!
Your hair’s cotton candy,
You’re assets vast that cast a glow of Trumpf
You’re a Carly visage,
The Greenwich Village,
You’re Friedrich Drumpf!
You’re demure,
You’re a friend of pollsters,
You’re the spur on some heels with holsters
I’m not fit to race, too commonplace, a sop!
But if Donald, I’m rock bottom, you’re the top!
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
Strange things happen in politics
We cannot trust the polls
Life has its own ***** tricks
We can play divers roles
This is not business as usual
Always fight to save one's soul.
Things are upended in politics
Ignore the belligerent critiques
Everything happens in a season
For an un-intelligible reason
Nobody can predict the results
Of an election filled with insults.
Politics in many countries are very *****
We all can see why. Politics are slushy
Voters lie. They mislead the pollsters
Who behave like palm readers
Like inexperienced magicians
So they can foul the naïve audience.
Things are pell-mell in politics
Life has its own yucky tricks
Everything occurs for an obscure reason
Under the lights of an unusual horizon
No anchors can predict the results
Of an election filled with assaults.
Copyright © November, 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 2:23 AM UTC
his life
my life
is built upon time lapse
bordered by chip shops
and Kit Kats
topped off by the old chaps
who meet down the green.
I have seen the cynical
join with the maniacal
to plot diabolical acts,
time lapse.
And the pollsters who all
think like gangsters,
Gotti taking shots at the
politicians and cops
topped off by doughnuts,
cold cuts are the best though.
Now there were ruins and now there were mansions
all in the blink of the cameraman's eye
high rise and low cloud
don't think I am too proud to
take your advice.
It stutters on taped to feelings long gone
and the time lapse
and the Trilby's and flat caps
and the Kit Kats
and the chip shops and
it seldom stops anywhere
where I could make a
comment,
torment?
my punishment
reliving through creased folds
on clean linen bedsheets.
There are the gaps in the time lapse
when I seem not to exist
as if part of my life
has been missed out,
on purpose?
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC