So far I have held back from commenting on  the death of Margaret Thatcher. She was perhaps the most dominant politician of my formative years, for good or ill. 

I have decided to write for her (or more accurately, for me) a poem…

Iron Lady

The iron lady

Like all things ferrous

Has turned to rust

And the girders that she

Used for bones

Are now ceremonial arches

Under which old ideologies are displayed

Like long dead dinosaurs

.

When I was a boy I ate her pumped up ice cream

But then, despite her chemical munificence

She took the milk from my school

Before, appetite whetted, she

Killed my community

And let loose the Yuppies

To feed on its twitching body

.

Some declare she saved the nation

From British Leyland

Others dance on the grave she made

From the split down middle England

Me, I breathe a rueful sigh

As the Lady

Turns at last