Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

  Land of the Free or so they say But this week it doesn’t feel that way Where women’s choice has been taken away And men in suits choose their fate, come what may   It doesn’t matter how it occurred Their right to choose has now been deferred With struggle, anguish and pain preferred A girl or a woman’s voice, no longer heard   Was it ever a choice so easily made? Hell no! There was always a price to be paid With guilt and shame, and now more afraid Punished and cursed, refused legal aid   And this is the year 2022 I can’t quite believe it, can you? Pro-‘Conceived’-life they herald, is the victorious view Yet gun laws NOT overturned, right on cue   They sell guns like sweets to those on the streets Allow murder in schools, cannot change those rules The red necks need the power of a trigger, to make them feel bigger In the name of protection, America’s lasting infection   And, so as a woman and mother to a ...

Sheila pulled her light jacket closer, and folded her arms, as she waited. She had donned contact lens and deep dark shades in the blazing sunlight much earlier that day.  Good thing that she had her hat though, her gran always said that the most important thing, is to keep your head warm.  The wind was now cutting through her like a sharp blade, and seemed to have a spurious relationship with her bladder too. A white van joined the line of cars, some with headlights on, and she remembered the text alert regarding the IKEA delivery this evening. She had another 15 minutes to be home before the designated delivery time. The green man flashed, and she walked briskly, then swerved suddenly as she reached the opposite side, almost tripping over a pushchair, the mother smirked. Sheila steadied herself and headed for the cobbled stone alleyway. This way was shorter than going around the block.  Not one for using parks and alleys after dark, she walked quickly ...