<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460253" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Forum</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's like trudging home after<br>a heavy day at the workface, <br>you open the front door<br>and the house is rent with upraised voices - <br>all the children adding new wounds<br>to years of grievance; your eldest daughter<br>threatens once again to go live with her boyfriend<br>although she's under age; your eldest son<br>despairs of girls 'not being able to argue properly'; <br>the cry, 'that's not f a i r..' rings through the house; <br>the younger ones still seek adults to be on their side, <br>- for the moment - to dispense justice<br>to the aggrieved, comfort the broken-hearted...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Are you glad you came home<br>without your usual stop off at the pub? <br>It's all so familiar...dammit, you know very well<br>you'll miss them when eventually<br>it all goes quiet... but at least<br>they certainly know about justice<br>when it's not there for them...<br>they'll be vigorous employees, <br>trade unionists one and all, <br>if and when they leave the nest..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Were the 18th century coffee houses<br>from which emerged those tracts<br>of endless literary abuse, <br>sharpening their language on each other, <br>just like this? 'A polarity of poets'<br>might serve for a corporate term.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460253" data-title="The Forum de Michael Shepherd" data-description="It's like trudging home after a heavy day at the workface, you open the front door and the house is rent with upraised voices - all the children adding new wounds to years of grievance; your eldest daughter threatens once again to go live with h..."></div> </div> </div>

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