The New World | Eddie Pughes

Shrouded in red, white, and blue array,

In flags and mystery of a time long gone

There was but a man, a relic –

His face and skin resembling concrete and ash

His decayed arms boxy and brutalistic 

His suit wrinkled and bathed in gazes of judgement.

“Lower him into the ground they said” – 

Remarking where he had come from,

Only to leave with me at their side in quiet murmur 

Of a life led in the pursuit of others happiness and liberty.

Hands cupped other mouths as the man of judgement,

Found himself judged.

A friend of his, a man very similar approached me,

After the procession. An unlikely occurrence – 

He described this old world;

“Vast and overpowering works of steel and stone,

Stood in place of forests and curved and carved 


Glass and iron, brick, and mortar – encased those 

Who’s hand did not feed.

But that was a different day, a different time, 

He continued – 

Then came the revolutionaries, not in the original sense 

But in the restoration of Britain, they led the march 

For the families, for women of the home, for the man of work

They paved the way for our return to liberty.

A crowd gathered on the freshly cobbled streets, 

The man’s words enticing the gargoyles to perk their ears –

Now, he said, waving his hands,

His grim face glowing in a new light 

Now we today to live our life, we have today, 

Where we get what we work, and we have a soul –

We have each other – he looked at the grey man,

We have ourselves and our honour.”

His words resonated, the vigour from which he spoke

The heart which they carried, the knowledge they knew 

And the burden they bore in birthing a new world.

The world reflected his spirit, 

I walked to return home, the streets clean, the flowers in bloom

To my sides a memorial to the weak

Behind me, the old man’s shade followed me,

Winston was always there for Britain.

Photo Credit.

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