When a grandmother dies
Cold and alone
In an unheated house
Waiting by the phone.
Ambulance wait times
12 hours or more
So many to die
In pain on a floor.
The country never stopped
Ordered to mourn
No millions wasted
No bugle call.
She worked her whole life
Raised children through war
Wages of pittance
Ill health and more.
Dragged through austerity
Bedroom tax and stress
No pomp or gun salute
No ridiculous dress.
So ends a life
That deserved so much more
In this modern Britain
Take your place on the floor.
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Author:
nephilim56 (
Offline) - Published: June 30th, 2023 04:47
- Comment from author about the poem: When a queen dies and an insight into the reality of the class system that exists in the modern UK
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments1
if this is about your own grandmother
then I can only offer my condolences
dear poet
and in your writer's comments
I like your contrast between
the fanfare of the queens funeral
and what reality is like
to society's majority downtrodden
a sad state, indeed
I can but sigh and relate, especially
as after covid's policy crimes
of the elderly, we would hope
the press would make such atrocities
more of a front page issue
a shame, that will taint our generation
far more than we can conceive
(an important issue, a well crafted write
thank you for choosing to share, dear poet)
many thanks. not my grandmother but something that was in the news at the time but not widely publicised due to the fanfare at queens funeral
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