Slightly Squiffy Monday Poem

OK, no great shakes here and written after too much alcohol, but a commitment is a commitment. So here is the Monday poem, based on a drink-fuelled conversation at a marvellous Burns Supper courtesy of the people up the road.

Heartland

I am Essex
and we do not leave
our county lightly.
Make good, and we merely move
the odd mile to the mansion zone
with automatic gates
and anti-radar Audi R8s
with a Hummer, just enough
for the weekend.
We will uproot to fight
unworthy kings or despotic rulers,
but other than that, we remain
a barbaric host
of shoppers and show-ers
who relish our home-hoard
but do not bury it.
Why did I leave?
For a stout heart
I cannot understand
but love.

So I suffer, but do not show
in this land of silence and secrets
to my barrow-boy ears.