To Trump’s Wall – An Ode

An Ode to Trump’s Wall

(With appropriate apologies to Shelley and HIS Ozymandias.)

I met a traveller from America

Who said: “A vast and crumbling wall of stone

Stands in the desert. Near it on the sand,

Half sunk, a poster image lies, whose frown

And pouty lips and hair of odd design

Tell that its creator well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the lack of heart.

And on that poster these words appear;

‘My name is Donald Trump, a Presidential King:

Look on my wall, ye mighty and despair!’

Nothing much of it remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal mess, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

A gift of laughter (and warning) from my wife and me as we finish our pot of coffee. Join us again for another cup.

And food for thought.

Mac