When the campaign is Donne

Because halfway through an election campaign is as good a time as any to get metaphysical. 

When next the visage of the moon

Turns coyly from the Earth to wane

In Southern lands, a mournful tune

Plays soft to endeth this campaign

Two foes, hast did declare their troth

As means to quench a powr’ful thirst

One side intendeth jobs and growth

The other, putting people first.

What trigger’d such a grand event?

A solemn vow to disagree

‘Til twice-dissolved, our parliament

Restored not the ABCC

For fortnights twain a battle fought

Continued twenty-eight days more

We sit upon the rowboat’s thwart

With battens placed for what’s in store.

What promises are made thus far?

What quarter shall our champions give

To childcare, tax, the NBN

And gearing in the negative?

As rivals gloat and bluff and boast

It matters not what happens hence

The policies that matter most

Seem nothing much of consequence

Of marriage just, nor refugees

Spake neither glori’ed bureaucrat;

More time and swathes of journalese

Apportioned to a blessed rat.