[Nigel Mace]

The notion is to activate the ancient - and combative - poetic practice of 'flyting' in verse exchanges, focussed, initially on a subject/theme but always kicked off by verses which open the way to being responded to, not only on the ostensible subject/theme, but also, with suitable contentiousness, on their manner of expression. The practice in Renaissance Scotland was often a pretty vituperative one and we should try to avoid replicating that of Dunbar and Kennedie (qv.) but short of reduction to ad hominem abuse - without due poetic cause shown - the exchanges can be as robust and scornful as contributors have the skill to display. This will not prove to be a place for 'vanity' posting as every contribution will be open to withering assault.

There is no requirement to match any particular form. The only requirement, I am suggesting, is that contributions should be in metrical verse. NO explanatory epigraphs or prose introductions - just verse, head to head with verse. (Where parody/pastiche is involved, there should be the normal "With apologies to..." form of acknowledgement.) To set some limits, I am also proposing that each Flyting Subject/Theme should run for no more than two weeks before a new one is started.

So.... having floated the idea on the General Talk board, I'll take the first rounds of in-coming fire by posting the opening poem.

JERUSALEM NO MORE
or
AN A TO Z BREXIT

And did some Peers in recent time
Brace up to England’s ‘Brexit’ queen:
Could even bishops hold the line
Denying light to hates extreme?

Enquire who’d countenance such crap,
Foredoomed to fail our NHS?
Grasp, if you can, who’d blundered here -
Her sneer or hates mean men express?

If we had MPs worth their weight:
Just half the guts they’d gladly spill:
Known not for self: just good, not great,
Liege lords would lesser roles fulfil!

May’s madness will not win this fight,
Nor Scotland’s sword sleep in our hands:
Oaths scorned will stir, as Arbroath’s right
Proclaims our place in Europe’s lands.

Quite what Theresa hopes to call
Retro England’s truncated isle?
‘South Britain’ sounds so passing small -
Trimmed down and “cut” in Osborne’s style.

Undone, uncoupled and unsung,
Vainly prating Gibraltar’s rock,
When she goes down, the angry young
X-factor will supply the shock.

Youth, wronged by lies, some shires may save;
Zeal, minus sense, dug Britain’s grave.

(With apologies to William Blake)