It has been a while since I last posted anything. Here is a sonnet.
| England 11 |
| Once cricket, today violence reigns o’er sport, |
| Then modesty, tonight youth bare thy flesh |
| There, value of intelligence was taught |
| Your generation mean to start afresh |
| You crave and long for your fame and fortune, |
| Work not hard nor respect the trodden path |
| Instead expect, demand, it all too soon |
| ‘Give me thy all else receive my wretch’d wrath’ |
| Angry flames engulf my favoured cities |
| Eloquently protesting without aim |
| You sit, judge, sit, consume and spread disease |
| Bank accounts and bellies fatten. No shame. |
| If only you could plump instead your minds |
| Not follow, but question, open my blinds |
