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Best British Poems

Below are the all-time best British poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of British poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New British Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best British poems are below this new poems list.

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The British Weather by McConnell, Gordon
The British Soldier at Balaclava by Moore, Bob
Delia In British Open 2015 by CHUAN SENG, KENG
A British Diary passing millenium by night, john
British Girls Whoop Whoop by Ellison, Jack
2015 British Open Squash by CHUAN SENG, KENG
the british union flag by seal, george
yorkshire's flag the british union flag by seal, george

View all new British Poems

The Best British Poems

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A Love Letter to My Friends of India

When I think of India, I think of dark eyed beauties, their foreheads painted with decorative red dots, and I see them moving deliciously in beautiful bright costumes as bangles dangle from their slender wrists. When I think of India, I think of a culture steeped in history and tradition: folkloric music, myths, and dance, and the influence of the Hindu religion. I visualize the rich and poor alike bathing themselves in a river called Ganges. I see an olden time when mighty elephants, colorfully decorated, carried men atop their backs on elegant elephant seats, and I recall pictures in my geography studies of the white sacred cows freely roaming the narrow streets of Delhi. I recall a novel I read: Rudyard Kipling’s engrossing tale of a jungle boy and also other novels depicting a clash of cultures as the British imposed their rules on Indian society. I think of current movies showing the seedy side of India such as one named Slumdog Millionaire and a movie to contrast it, the romantic Bollywood delight named JabTak Hai Jaan. Furthermore, I recall the grace and good nature of the Indian people depicted in a film called The Best Ever Exotic Marigold Hotel. When I think of India, I think of the Taj Mahal, Kama Sutra, and curry, and also I recall horrible stories of Bride burnings now banned and by contrast, the good works of Mother Teresa, who labored there among the poor, and I think of the man who is probably the most recognized by Americans as a good and strong example of leadership: Mahatma Ghandi. All these things are the sum of what I have learned about India in my lifetime. But what do I really know of India? What I have learned recently relates to poets I have come to know at this website and who have shown me through their poetry and their communication with me, a more personal side of the Indian people that I never used to know. Through the poetry of Ravindra I have learned the love of an Indian for his heritage and how he emulates his father‘s work through beautiful translations. From poets like BL and Jag, I’ve learned more about the deep and philosophical nature of the Indian poet! Through great friendships with people like Kashinath, Yesha and Yasmin, and Guatami I have come to learn about the actual personalities of dear Indian people whose life experiences, struggles and desires are not so different from my own, and also I am able to enjoy their eloquent words as they describe their own emotions, passions, and love of nature through their poetry. Perhaps their culture adds a flavoring to their words and phrases that is a bit different from my own, but in the end, we are all alike beneath the skin. Whether from India or any other country, we are, all of us, becoming a part of a global community in which our differing backgrounds can be accepted and even better - celebrated! Thank you I say to all my poet friends whose words enrich my life, but in particular, today I thank my friends from India, for helping me to really see how beautiful you are and to understand your country better through knowing YOU.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Dreaming With Butterflies

FLUTTER BY BUTTERFLY DANCE YOUR WAY ACROSS THE SKY WITH YOUR TISSUE PAPER WINGS THOSE DELICATE AND DAINTY THINGS FLASH WITH COLOURS OH SO BRIGHT STILL SHINING IN THE MORNING LIGHT NATURE’S GREATEST WORK OF ART IT CANNOT HELP BUT STIR THE HEART TO SEE THIS SPLENDID CREATURE IS THEIR NOT A BETTER FEATURE OF THE BRITISH SUMMERTIME THAN SUCH AN INSECT SO DEVINE EVER VIVID ALWAYS TRUE OH I KEEP THE BRIGHTEST HUE WRAPPED INSIDE MY MEMORY FOR HARDER TIMES AHEAD OF ME WHEN I’M IN NEED OF A SMILE I’LL STOP AND RECOLLECT A WHILE THE BUTTERFLY’S HAPPY DANCE AND WITHIN MY PEACEFUL TRANCE I FIND A SENSE OF CONTENT AT THE SUMMER THAT I SPENT DREAMING WITH BUTTERFLIES


Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012

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I AM

I am a face hiding behind a computer screen I am maybe the one you search for in your dream I am compassionate and for other’s I care I am generous and with you I’d share I am a mother, sister, daughter, wife I am a friend to some I have known all my life I am small but have a big heart I am scared to lose my parents - I dread us being apart I am considered to have a good sense of humour I am British that’s the truth it's not a rumour I am happy to listen to others and share a pot of tea I am proud to say I am simply me I am female 11~06~14 Contest: I am Sponsor: Frank Herrera


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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Blàr Chùil Lodair - The Battle Of Culloden

16th April 1746
The day a country ceased to exist
British Army, Hanoverian scum
Defeated our Jacobite's
Scotland is on the run
 
Our Tartans banished, bagpipes no more
To lead our troops, to frighten the foe
Cumberland's men hunt us down
In every village and every town
Massacred, slaughtered
Wiped from our earth
Erased from the country of our birth
 
2000 men died to fight for their right
Against the British Armies might
Cameron's MacDonald's and Fraser's slain
Many other Clans, population drained
The survivors facing Hanoverian bans
Led to
The Scattering of the Clans
 
The Clan Chiefs lands, vast and many
Asset stripped, taken by the enemy
Alleged traitors tried, treason their crime
As Hanoverian Scum, on our riches dine
 
In the aftermath, many Scots left their shores
To distant lands to open new doors
Many writers on here
On their Ancestors scan
You may be here, because of
The Scattering Of The Clans


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

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India Shining

India, my motherland best as any mother
To me, at par with best world over

India's invention of Zero and Decimal 
Critical to scientific calculation, invention

Rich ancient culture of Harappan civilisation
Alexander, Babur, too could not resist invasion 

Founder of Diverse religions,
Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism 

Himalayas, abode of Saints, spiritual Mantra
Holy rivers Ganga, Yamuna, Bhramaputra 

Multi-culture, cuisine, languages - local, foreign
Muslim, Christian, Zoroaster, secular terrain  

For centuries borne Moghuls, British slavery 
Now successful largest Democracy 

Greats - Gandhi, Vivekananda, Mahavir, Buddha
Sacred texts - Vedas, Puranas, Epics - Ramayana, Mahabharta, Gita 

Taj Mahal, Khajurao, Ajanta, Ellora – mausoleum, temples, caves   
India’s Wonders of World, UNESCO World Heritage Sites 

Deployed for Peace, Nuclear Power  
World’s second largest Army but invaded never 

Founder Member of UN, Non-aligned Movement
India’s standpoint significant in any world’s event

India, leading force in South Asia Region
Global force to reckon with in any international forum    

Every third Indian in world's intellectual work force
Medicine or Software, India has best human resource  

World’s second fastest developing economy 
India, future Super Power, can't stop any 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Country - India   
By Hitendra Mehta
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~ Harappan civilisation - ancient urban rich Indus Valley civilisation

~Alexander / Babur  – Greece/Moghul Emperor

~Ganga, Yamuna, Bhramaputra – Holy rivers 

~Gandhi – Father of Nation, led Non-Violent freedom struggle against British Empire
   
~Vivekananda – introduced Hindu philosophies of Vedanta & Yoga in Europe &
   America.

~Mahavir / Buddha – founder of Jain / Buddha religion.   

~Vedas, Puranas – Primary Hindu Sacred Texts 

~Ramayana, Mahabharta, Gita – National Hindu Epics. Gita,part of Mahabharta 

~Taj Mahal – Mausoleum built by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. A UNESCO World
   Heritage Site. Featured in Seven Wonders of the World. 

~Khajurao – Hindu, Jain temple famous for erotic sculpture. UNESCO World Heritage
  Site.

~Ajanta –Rock cut monument famous for masterpieces of paintings/sculptures of
  Buddhist religious Art. UNESCO World Heritage Site.

~Ellora – Rock cut monument famous for Buddhist, Hindu and Jain caves. UNESCO
   World Heritage Site.


Copyright © Hitendra Mehta | Year Posted 2011

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Drink Responsible - Slogans -

.
                         Can you hear me now? Good!                                 
                       I can't seem to forget you                                         
                    I love what you do for me                                          
                 It must be love                                                             
              between love and madness lies obsession                       
           Like always. Like never before                                        

At the sign of the                                         cat 
have a break, have a                              Kit-Kat                    
Tastes so good cats ask for it by name 
                                                      Schhhh ... You-know-who       

I'd rather die of thirst than drink from the cup of mediocrity
                                                                  Perfect to you
                                                                       Purely you 
There's a smile in every Bar                                                                                   
               Obey your thirst                                                                        
               This Bud's for you                                                
One a day helps you work, rest, and play                     
               More fun than rum                                             
               Drink responsible                                   
Heineken open your                                            world                                                
Because  that's
                                              i                      n
                                 k                                              d
                          e                                                             o
                        h                                                                 f
                        t                                                                m
                                                                                      o
                                                                                m
                                                                         y
                                                                  o
                                                             u
                                                          a
                                                          r
                                                          e
                                  
 ... nobody can say no to the honey nut O              
a bowl a day keeps the bullies away         

                           
                   Our plans are based on yours                      
                   You have my word on it                    
Be the first to know                       
Who we are                                 
                The "no problem" people  
                                                   Only smarties have the answer           
                                                   Making it all make sense 
                       
Drink responsible                    
                       Because that's the kind of mom you are                
Sometimes you've got to break the rules       
                       Blow your own bubble                           
You're invited                                       
                       Catch our smile?
Everything we do is driven by you                                     
Driven by what's inside                                            
                       We'll take more care of you                                 
                       You asked for it.                You got it                            
We know what it means to serve                 
On your side                                              
Allied on your side     
      
You're in good hands  
We make it happen     
We'll be there                           
Get the feeling                       
Im lovin' it                                   
You are the controller                       
Only on Playstation                    
                                 You are now free to move                
                            Unleash the beast       
                       Is it in you?       
                  Do you dare?   



About this poem:
To "write" this poem, I used slogans, short and often memorable phrases
used in advertising campaigns. Below you can find the name of the product 
(or the company) in order of appearance.

-Verizon Wireless; Wind Song; Toyota; Honda; Calvin Klein; Saturn
-Mercury; Kit Kat; Meow Mix; Schweppes
-Stella Artois; Wella; Dell; Hershey's; Sprite; Budweiser; Mars; Malibu;
 Captain Morgan; Heineken; Rice Krispies; Cheerios; Applejacks Cereal
-Assurant; Isuzu; CNN; Guardian Life Ins; Auto-owners Ins;
 Smarties; Microsoft
-Captain Morgan; Rice Krispies; Buger King; Bubble Yum; Red Hills Inn; 
 Pacific Southwest Airlines;  Ford; Subaru; British Airways; Toyota; USSA;
 Nationwide Mutual Ins; Allied Ins
-Allstate; IBM; Chevrolet; Toyota; Mc Donalds; Microsoft Kinect; PS3;
 Southwest Airlines; Monster Energy; Gatorade; Curious.




Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2014

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From the Prison

.

                                       She was a colleen from Limerick
                                       with honors in Cambridge and Warwick
                                       Im a Chelsea hooligan from Harrow  
                                       unskilled worker with bricks in a barrow

                                       Being a randy bloke, I always smile
                                       to young foxy ladies who lives in style
                                       A wink on the sly, my bed a la carte
                                       but it's sheer shilly-shally on her part

                                       What did she say? "I remained dubious 
                                       but I acquiesce with insouciance"
                                       We walked to my place and she said this thing:
                                       "This is my affaire de coeur not your wing-ding"

                                       Everything was a misunderstanding
                                       body... quintessential? boxer... expanding?
                                       she dillydallied for half an hour  
                                       until my frown changed into a glower. 

                                       That my performance was evocative
                                       that blowhard was to be talkative
                                       so she never speaks with her mouth full
                                       her intellectuality was a bull...!

                                       Mickey mouse bad kitty, an awful joke
                                       her constant balderdash deserved a stroke 
                                       I looked hither and yon for a retribution 
                                       to lambaste or cold cock her was the solution

                                       This easy-rider wasn't worth diddly-squat
                                       but abso-bloody-lutely food for thought
                                       In hindsight, it might have been the reason
                                       ...burning the British Library is a high treason



.



Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2012

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Richard Lamoureux

Richard
Husband, son, father, friend
Mary's sweetie, Matthew's dad, Edith's son, brother to Teresa and Roy
Lover of family, friends and time alone 
Who feels passion, joy and doubt
Who fears rejection, being forgotten and failure
Who would like to see Paris, Greece and the face of my Savior
Resident of Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada
Lamoureux



Richard
Proud, deceitful, lustful, liar
holder of grudges, occupier of dark thoughts
Competitive to a fault, craver of things material
Temptations target
Who feels torn in two
Who fears his darker instincts
Resident and member of humanity
Lamoureux
 


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Concerning Math and How To Say It

The British call it maths,
but the Americans ditch the s
causing much international scorn.
But for our sake, p'raps it'd be best
to keep subjects
only halfway grasped
in the singular form.


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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Quest for Tolerance

new nation to craft founding fathers sought to draft a declaration of independence document that made sense Thomas Jefferson sought to free slaves but was warned not to make waves five of thirteen colonies he had to appease breaking from British rule ignited a duel with each colonial delegate expressing their regret they could not sign they would not find all men of equal value heated debate ensued withdrawn from the declaration with misgivings and trepidation eighty-six more years would pass until the slaves were freed at last Lincoln paid a high price when he acted against advice signing an emancipation proclamation brought civil war to a nation twenty percent of our population lay dead, a chilling affirmation we failed to see what was right every color worth as much as white though the war is formally over now discrimination we still allow Talmadge Branch was just one case * where service was denied by race Ku Klux Klan remains active too wounds once healed open anew and the battle for human rights fear and hatred still ignites
* In 2008, Florida Attorney General Bob Butterworth had to take action against a bar in Perry, FL, when they refused to serve African-American Talmadge Branch unless he took a seat in a “back room.” http://cnsnews.com/news/article/florida-bar-owners-could-lose-license-over-racism-complaint


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014

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SUMMER - AND IT'S RAINING AGAIN

Welcome to our ‘British’ summer It’s raining again – oh what a bummer Clear blue skies have turned to grey Think it’s time for a foreign holiday! 17th April 2015


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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Tennis Undies

Gussie Moran, a tennis star,
Created quite a stir
When she wore lace-trimmed underwear,
Created just for her.

In 1949 this was,
On Wimbledon’s staid courts;
The British folk were scandalized,
According to reports.

Designed by Teddy Tingling,
A tennis pro and Brit,
The all-white skirt (above the knees!)
Had newsmen in a snit.

They said she brought “vulgarity”
And even, more so, “sin”
Into a sport that prior
Only let the proper in.

Along with her obit, there was
A photo of her wearing
These very clothes; to us, today,
They’re anything but daring.

But bravo to this fearless gal!
Her charms she did assert
When she gave fans at Wimbledon
A shock beneath her skirt.


Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2013

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Patradoot or The Messenger 29 /Many


Patradoot or The Messenger29 /Many 
  
English version by  Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor


These young boys and girls,  were brought up,  
By their parents, with great love and affection, 
Now they are mad, in love for their motherland,
To show the splendors of their youthful energy.

They are ready even to sacrifice their heads,
What to say of body pains and tortures inflicted on them, 
By seeing such fearlessness and energy of their youth,
Even the enemy gets ashamed of, dear letter.

Triloki was one of these young boys, 
Who happily took bullets on his chest, dear letter,
And kept on moving ahead without withdrawing,
Keeping the dignity of our nation and Satyagraha.

DESCRIPTION OF MY CITY ALLAHABAD

You will find my beautiful city Allahabad,* 
In an ecstasy and full of rapture, flowing in it’s air,
When you will move on its roads and streets,
Along with the Postman, dear letter.

Ravindra

Kanpur India 12th August 2010                        to continue in 30

Clarifications:

* Allahabad		Also know as Prayag or Triveni is the most ancient city
                                    of India, where river Ganga and Yamuna now meets at
                                    the holy place called Sangam.


Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can 
Send me an email on kapoor_skk@yahoo.com

Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father 
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around  1932, who was a freedom fighter.

He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom 
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned 
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath 
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in 
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas, 
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary 
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994. 















  





Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010

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Fight For Freedom


Fight For Freedom The metal taste of blood on our lips As we recall history without any quips, A century ago when naivety rose From the tiered ashes of their ancestral woes, To fight against ominous oppression, Cast by Britain’s omnipotent obsession With slavery and pillaging—riches so handsome— All for the good of a tyrannical Kingdom. Denied the right to their native tongue Executed for freedom, to their deaths they sung, So wounded, some unable to stand, Strapped to a chair, ashes united with land. He and his brothers had good reason to live, But for freedom, their lives, they were willing to give. On Easter Monday, it all began, Their actions did speak louder than Words ignored by the English man, Brutalised by the Black and Tan. So! It was legal, didn’t make it right, These men, women and children put up a fight, Their blood and souls they did give, They fought and died so that I may live. 24th April 2016 Nicola Byrne In memory of the women, men and children who died and/or fought, between 24th April 1916 and 17th December 1922, when the last of the British forces embarked. They gave so much so that the people of Ireland may preside over their own country and live in a state, free from tyranny, exclusions and poverty. I have tremendous respect to those who don’t accept things as they are, and who persevere to make a better life for others.


Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2016

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Lest we Forget

I remember those days when just a kid,
the old ten shilling note, and the odd quid.*
Teddy boys in their drain pipes, fur collars
smelling of nicotine, street wise scholars.
Conkers,* glass alleys* and comics as well,
bow and arrows, gat* to ring the school bell.
Electric tram, trolley bus and steam train
holidays in Blackpool, not yet in Spain.
Left over stew, dripping dispersed on bread,
a choice of marg or jam, not both was spread.
Roly-poly pud with custard, oh yes
school dinners, oh the ridicule the stress.
Journey in to space radio drama,
while bathing in a tin bath pure karma.
Medicals at school and nit nurses too
combing for the eggs, washing with shampoo.
No drugs, only cigs in small packs of five,
fifty fifty dance halls, old and new thrive.
Outside loo, oh them freezing winter nights
oil lamps, a candle to enhance one’s lights.
High street fish and chip shop charging nine pence,
potato crisps, tab* of salt to dispense.
Tanners,* hape’ny’s* and those threp’ny* bits,
meccano sets, clockwork trains came in kits.
Motorbikes, British pride on just two wheels,
Triumph, BSA, a nation reveals.
Alas long gone these balmy days of laze,
happy to have played a part in this phase!

*Quid::::                        A one pound note (UK)
*Conkers:;;;                   Game played with the fruit of the horse chest nut tree.
*Glass Alleys:::::           A type of Marble for the game of marbles.
*Gat:::::                          A catapult, or slingshot..
*Tab:::                            One brand of crisps in the UK, place a small blue pack of salt in each packet
*Tanners::::                    A sixpenny coin
*Hape’ny’s:::                 A halfpenny coin
*Threp’ny bit:::::           A  Threepenny 12 sided coin, also called Thrupence depending      where one resided in the North of England 
                                      .

© Harry J Horsman 2012  


Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2012

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Poop Scoop- For Limerick II Contest

She once wrote a poem on POOP,
and one on men's parts that would droop!
Some think she is crass,
but this British lass
on humor has got the REAL SCOOP!!!

For Jan's Limerick Contest
February 21, 2015


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

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Thoughts of Heaven and other things

Who promised you life would be easy?
Who whispered this excuse?
How can pain be an addition to the life experience?
Answers provided are inadequate to the task.
Who will sit with you and hold you in the unknown?

In the silence of the morning,
I listen for the sound of your heartbeat.
I reach for you and trace the line of your face.
I smell the fragrance of your skin.
I envy the sun as it kisses the small of your back.
I rest in the music of your breath, your slow awakening!

How long have you felt this way?
Why have you not come to me?
I am here, I am within you and without.
Loneliness and fear need not compel.
For you are lifted on whispers of thought!

I wish to be justified
"You are justified from the foundations of the Earth,
to the moment of the quiet walk.
Listen to the wind carry your name.
Feel the music fill your innermost being.
As the song builds to the innermost surprise!"

What is Heaven?
Is it the peace that resides between heart beats?
Is the smallness of it large enough to contain God's Essence?
When does it begin?
Why is it so hard to start?

The small white dog trembles,
as the river runs wild!
Flys dance above the water.
"Go" I say releasing you into the water.
Feeling the depth of love,
as it covers the surface of you.


A compilation poem written by Norm Millross, Lesley-Anne Evans and Richard Lamoureux.
This was six separate pieces organized into one piece. We each alternated line by line.
Norm and Lesley-Anne are fellow poets here In Kelowna British Columbia.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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The Island

My island slept for years in the care
Of Tainos, Caribs and Arawak
Their canoes on the sea breast bare
Dreaming of milk from manioc
The swamps unscarred, trees secure
Batos and songs rinsed in the azure.

Then came doom laden caravels came
Prancing with Conquistadores
Their swords to slaughter, then to shame
The Ave Marias slutted by whores
Whose blazing balls of canons denied
The sufficient death of the crucified.

My island was the Mary Magdalene held
For ransome in the frying lust
For gold, the continental wars spelled
A trembling virginity in the dust
A lost of idyllic grace, where bloody men
Sowed the evil inherited again and again.

From Spanish to French, Spanish to British
How callous is all history
A spectre publishing the marginal brutish
Shrivelled glory of identity.
And still my Mary, her alabastor box a gift
This tropic wonder, this lignum vitae of thrift

From empty tomb to broken hearted disciple
Evanglizes the Mahoe dawn
Over the Blue Mountain where peace ripple
On the motto, still the fawn
In the forest brings the stag to court
This island stands ready to file a good report.



Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

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British Invasion-1964

There was talk about the nuclear bomb
There was a war going on in Vietnam
It was on the news, the drummers were drumming
Look out America, the British are coming

We couldn't wait to turn our radios on
To hear Paul and Ringo, George and John
What could make you feel more alive
Than to rise in the morning to the Dave Clark Five

To be part of it was so much fun
With Eric and "The House of the Rising Sun"
Music sent from heaven above
Peter and Gordon "A World Without Love"

There was Peter Noone and Herman's Hermits sound
While Petula Clark took us all "Downtown"
The country went wild when Donovan hit the stage
Tom Jones and Dusty Springfield were part of the rage

Oh Lord one day please take me back
To hear Marianne Faithful and Cilla Black
The Rolling Stones conquered every city
And Manfred Mann sang "Do Wah Diddy"

The Kinks and Troggs took us for a whirl
The New Seekers sang about "Georgy Girl"
British fashion was everywhere
And the Zombies told us "She's Not There"

Now James bond was doing some super spying
Gerry said, "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying"
Freddie and the Dreamers sang "I'm Telling You Now"
The British had conquered America somehow

The Searchers, The Hollies, meaningful words
Chad and Jeremy, don't forget the Yardbirds
If there was a way we could do it again
We'd have another invasion like we did back then.

   If you weren't there, it might be hard to understand. The music had meaning 
with political statements and social statements written between the lines. the 
young were actively involved and the apathy that exists now was hard to find. The 
fun music was fun music and the message music set a tone for a generation. It 
was a great time to be growing up in spite of the turmoil in the world, a world we 
thought we all could change.  Times change, sometimes not for the better. 


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2006

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The Stud from the Spud State and the Red Dragon Damsel

Marry Your Best Friend To Get the Best of Both Worlds

Not many can claim they met their spouse in a battle of wits
much less the fabled (don't believe a word of it!) Internet.
But my uncle, he's not many. And my new aunt? Well she's a keeper.
And it wasn't love like a summer fling --- but it goes much deeper.
The rumors you heard - it's all too true - they met on Online Scrabble:
sesquipedalians by heart, but in the strictest sense, true Word Warriors.
Her last turn was an "I Do"... and when it came, he knew that he was done for:
pussyfooting through the back door, the tenacious Triple Word Score.
The date was planned - his bachelorhood canned. Compensated on Christmas day,
a wifie from Wales to tie the knot with my uncle the Stud from the Spud State.
The Red Dragon Damsel flew in (too strong to be distressed) into my uncle's country life.
(I still remember his clenched fists pouring buckets at the altar ... his first love)
And she brought her little Dragoness, too --- a fiery spark named Emily.
My job was to walk my new British cousin down the aisle,
as she whispered to me, "Should we link arms?"
And though I should have said,  "What's the harm?"
instead of a rather robotic canter --- it now brings a smile.
My lovely Aunt Laura wore an eggplant dress, as if too challenge the mountain majesty
that peaked through the church window of that fine Idahoan morn.
Her glorious entry introduced by a Celtic song that would have made Enya weep,
as the vertigo of vows came to a close like a caged bird being released.
Mariah Carey's famous Christmas hit took to life --- All I Want Is You, rang true,
as they took each other's arms to dance celebrating an unlikely circumstance.
Crossing oceans to become One: she from Barry, and he from Boise.
The After Party --- filled with giggles, tears and rip-roaring stories from every point of view.
The wedding cake (believe it or not) was a Scrabble board:
one slice was Congratulations - and though a bit silly, to me it was poetry.
And my uncle - you could tell - was simply dumbfounded
as she took the words right out of his mouth

... with a crumb-filled smooch.



Written February 27th, 2016.
For the My Wedding Day Is Special Because... hosted by Olive Eloisa Guillermo

NOTE: I've never been married before, so I hope writing about my uncle's wedding instead is acceptable.


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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ending the war in america step 1

if you support this copy and paste to your page, you have my permission.


problem by problem 1x1
your going to solve them.

scared straight, the television show holding your children hostage on television
that is more illigal than torture in america
they are 55 years old and sending 12 year olds to a place they wouldnt want to be.

would the closest adjacent state starting with a letter closest to A
please stand up
those are your people
in your country
in need of your aid.

send half the police force in a time span of three days
to assist your neighbors kill the people terrorising children

go to wall mart, buy a gun if you have to
show up in record numbers with your information straight
and shoot every single one of them involved in that war crime

then go home

when your there, lie about where your from, your name, etcetera

drive over there, kill them, go home and laugh...


there is also a problem in alberta
calgary and edmonton alberta
they have denied torture victoms amnesty

would british columbia please stand up
send half of your police over to help in a time span of three days
dont ask, just show up.
thats not canada, that is not canadian, that is not allowed
put it on the news
this is what they did, this is what they didnt do
these are the explanations of people who can explain themselves
and this is what we are going to do about it....

now would saskatchewan please stand up
when british columbia begins to go home, you will send in a third of your police in a period of four days.

get your information right on the news as it goes, dont do it underground all sneaky
do it right in their face with a huge thats not how i run my ship

then your coming to alberta and you are going to murder the police and doctors
involved in the torture and terrorism of myself
that took place over the past 17 years

please check out my youtube page http://www.youtube.com/troynelson2011


Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2012

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Black Period


Marsa raped Habiba, took 
her unforgiven under a Carolina moon 
white-hot with Scots-Irish semen 
the West African genetiscape shifted,
noses lengthened, chins squared, 
mitigated: molasses and warm butter  
of melanin. Still you ask why Habiba ran.
To the out islands with their concealing fronds 
where the natives had just caught a break 
after all that white man damage
and where Habiba could give herself 
to the black sand and  the brown man, 
his pollen spreading its restorative infection, 
cheekbone stirring, forehead broadening, 
the hair: effusive rivulets of charcoal, 
until granddaddy found himself 
faced up like a Cherokee.  
Be that as it may, Marsa still inhabits my bathroom mirror 
on those mourning mornings 
when the hate is coming down like British steel  and
 I foreswear the white and un-skin the brown, finding 
beneath them both my Habiba, and 
the consoling certainty that we are Black period. 

©2014 William R. Macklin


Copyright © William Macklin | Year Posted 2015

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Senior Year

It began on a high note
Dreams of a New Frontier
Those dreams were shattered in Texas
In the Fall of the same year
Christmas time was solemn
Before the storm there was the calm
We saw them escalate a war
Sending our young to Vietnam
It was a vibrant time to be alive
A good invasion hit our shore
The British sent their music
Our lives would be changed forever more
The times they were “a changing”
Was it better, was it worse
There was no time for apathy
Was it a blessing or a curse
In June came graduation
The fulfillment of our dreams
The Four Seasons sang about a Rag Doll
We were introduced to the Supremes
Now that our senior year was over
And we would go our separate ways
There remained a bond to hold us
Until our dying days
Some went off to college
Not knowing what’s in store
Almost all would serve their country
Some went off to war.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009

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The Auctioneerist

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Our next item is a pair
Of Victorian chairs,
A fine example of 
British antiques.
Two upholstered parlor chairs
Made of carved sturdy walnut.
No loose joints, never required repair.
Ideal for comfort and relaxation. 
These chairs are in good condition.
A legacy from Lord Edgeware
Who lived a long time ago
In his castle in the Lake District.
Queen Victoria visited him
Several times, but it is not
Known if she ever sat on one of them.
A certificate of authentic report
Is hereby attached.
My price would easily be
Around 2000 dollars.  Both must be bought.
Time will definitely increase their worth.
I would have bought them myself
If I did not have a pair already.
How much will you offer?
Starting bidding price 
Is 1200 dollars for the two.
Come on friends, a bargain at our price.
Do I hear 2500 dollars?
Going, going….gone. 


9 March 2016

"For Auction Contest"  
A Mystic Rose Contest
Placed 2


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

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Men of Honor in the mist

Men of Honor in the mist  Kokoda 1942......

Men of Honor in the mist,... 
Sometimes by a bullet kissed,... 
Shoot the buggers they'd insist,...
Threeo plonked,                                            lee enfield .303cal.
Japs dead, not missed....
Men in khaki dyed to green ,.. 
Kokoda  men so bronzed and lean,.
Fought the bloody Jap so mean,... 
Die did run till khakki/green.... 
Move in silence in the green,... 
Keep your mouth shut, be unseen,..  
Pull off a shot when you are sure,... 
Head shot got him, yes one more.... 
Jonesy shot as we pulled back,.. 
Found him eaten on the track,.. 
Kill a Jap for sure today,... 
Shoot the buggers make em pay.... 
Walk with death there every day... 
Fix your bayonet, smell of hay?... 
Keep your guard up, bayonet parry... 
Butt slap drongo Jap, old Harry... Don Johnson 

As Don Johnson2/25th Aussie Btn. said of his time on the Kokoda track in 1942, you would
smell the mouldy hay smell when the Jap was close. The dyed green Aussie uniform became 2
colours in the constant rain, green and khaki patches. (did we invent camoflague 
uniforms)You heard the rattle as the Jap put a bullet in the barrel of his Arisaka rifle.
After his 5 shots the predictable Jap would come for you to bayonet fight you. So you'd
spike him or plonk him with unit .303.. The Japanese were losing many cargo ships to Yank
Submarines during the war, as payback they put American, British and Aussie prisoners on
board to be sunk to die on their way back empty to Japan....
http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011