Poem upon the Death
of Margaret Thatcher
Prime Minister of Great Britain 1979 - 1990
Prime Minister of Great Britain 1979 - 1990
How to tell the truth
when all conspire to twist
History to reflect the aspect
they themselves admire?
Acolytes will never tire
of worship, as those whose
frailties were exposed by her,
will never tire of hate.
Her greatness in the end,
will not depend on noble deeds.
But maybe, on the narcissistic needs
of those, who’d close whole chapters,
just to ensure the poor
shall have no story
worth the tale.
And as we praise her legacy,
raising eyes to heaven
in her name,
it’s best to reflect,
that fame, like fortune,
is diminished by the taint
of time’s corrosive touch,
and she who values selfishness
too much, will in the end,
be more despised, than prized.
© James Rainsford 2013
when all conspire to twist
History to reflect the aspect
they themselves admire?
Acolytes will never tire
of worship, as those whose
frailties were exposed by her,
will never tire of hate.
Her greatness in the end,
will not depend on noble deeds.
But maybe, on the narcissistic needs
of those, who’d close whole chapters,
just to ensure the poor
shall have no story
worth the tale.
And as we praise her legacy,
raising eyes to heaven
in her name,
it’s best to reflect,
that fame, like fortune,
is diminished by the taint
of time’s corrosive touch,
and she who values selfishness
too much, will in the end,
be more despised, than prized.
© James Rainsford 2013
Note to readers: Posted to mark the death of a very divisive British Prime Minister, whose ultimate legacy must unfortunately, be left to the unreliable testament of History. I'm just pleased I've survived long enough to pen this poem to her memory.
