Tory Party Sonnet

[Indebted to Tanya Gold’s ‘The Tories can’t win without women, so why the disdain?’]

There are no women left, can’t win
carpeted halls, a place that smelt, women left
exhausted sandwiches spoke only to themselves.
There are some women it is true, small numbers,
bright colours, women are subject to its agitated
measures the women are left there explicitly
told them to calm down so poverty women left
no women left ‘sexless’ there is worse to come –
Wearing a pearl earring, the stage woman leaves
photographers maps and shovels, a swift belly rub
with a kind of wonky pride and a chunk of Wonga
contempt, no women there, edges glow red.
The women are left to dust or ice-cream;
There are no women left, I scream.

 

Alternative version without dodgy ice-cream we all scream rhyme:

 

There are no women left, can’t win
carpeted halls, a place that smelt, women left
exhausted sandwiches spoke only to themselves.
There are some women it is true, small numbers,
bright colours, women are subject to its agitated
measures the women are left there explicitly
told them to calm down so poverty women left
no women left ‘sexless’ there is worse to come –
Wearing a pearl earring, the stage woman leaves
photographers maps and shovels, a swift belly rub
with a kind of wonky pride and a chunk of Wonga
contempt, no women there, edges glow red.
The women are left to dust or ice-cream;
They like the word, but misunderstand its meaning.

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Filed under Poetry, politics

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