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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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Details | British Poem | |

The Honey, The Bees, The British and Their Tea

Sitting here drinking my wonderful tea is what i am doing if British i be, the bees fly around from 

flower to flower collecting more pollen for honey by the hour, our drink of choice is the tea that 

we drink the honey we add sweetens and pleases, so we're all connected the british and tea, the 

bees and flowers to honey you see. Honey is what we want when we come home from a bad day 

in cleveland, london, or rome. Honey says i'm glad that you're home and with a quick kiss the 

bad day is all gone. So thanks to the british that drink their tea because they give the bees 

reason to be and from that reason come the fruit of the flower, honey that sweetens the tea that 

we drink. The tea is your life, the bees are your job and the flower is the purpose for which we 

breathe, but the honey is the sweet that makes it all worth it for if a bee would not be then what 

would be then reason to drink this nasty tea.

Details | British Poem | |

Native british rant

Politicians abandon native life,
Trouble rising,
Broken lands civil strife. 

Details | British Poem | |


THE BRITISH ARE COMING Have you ever watched the docs shown on the British screen? The views they are so pretty, the best you've ever seen But by golly, the British accent is so odd Altho' to be sure it was given by our God At times 'tis hard to follow from this side of the sea. You've heard the upper crust talk - it's full of lah-de-dahs. The Lords and Ladies undress and step into their 'barths' North American folks just go and have their baths We'll simply grab a chair and sit down on our ass But the Brits, you know, they sit upon their .... ooh-la-lahs! © ELR 2013 (No offence intended, and I hope none taken) (I am Australian, of British/Scottish heritage)

Details | British Poem | |

A Very British Summer

This year we grieve for the sunshine of old
Instead we're given a  pouring with a rainbow

Still we raise our eyes,  carefully treading through puddles and mould
Remembering our picnic and how that summer song used to go

Dam this island so far up north
It's not for folk who enjoy the outdoors - and then some

But the people who take what we are given from birth
And dig deep inside to find merriment in the Her Majesty's United Kindom

Details | British Poem | |

A Message to British Politicians

Have you listen, Have you heard
Have you seen, have you lived
Do you truly know?

You walk the streets 
You say, you understand, you will change
Do you truly hear? 
Do you care?

We are people, we are a nation
We are broken and divided by your lies
You are our leaders

You were meant to guide us
To lead us out of the land of suffering and poverty
Yet you unclothe us and strip us of our garments
You take away our rights and our freedom to be free.

You manipulate us, trick us and teach us to deceive
We have become a divided nation an enemy to our brother a traitor to our sister 
A coward to our neighbor 
And a stranger to our children we are a lost generation.

Great leaders who are you
We are the same
We are humans
Separated only by circumstances

You truly want to know us 
Wear our shoes walk our pathway
Live our lives

Let circumstances and experience be your tutor and guide
Maybe then you will grow to understand the cry of your people. 

By Scarlette Howard

Details | British Poem | |

The British Gingah

I have this friend you see
He lives across the Atlantic Sea
Somewhere in England
Over grass, and mountains, and sand

He visits this country I call home
At camp, with open land to roam
We-my best friend and I-walk up to him to say hi
And he jumps right into conversation, not the least bit shy

For the next ten days we all hang together
Other friends we hung with too, but mainly the British ginger
So hilarious and animated, his “woo” sounding like a dying cat on crack
Eventually we started pretending to be his claque

Laughter rings about even though the end of the camp is near
We all enjoyed the time that we’ve spent here
We smile and say our goodbyes until the next year
When we all meet up again, right here

Details | British Poem | |

middle class British couple in Algarve

Middle Class Retirees.  (Algarve)

When she gets up her husband has gone to the golf course, she drinks 
a cup of weak tea and has a toast without butter. Then the grooming 
begins it takes hours, hair, nails the right dress to choose, takes time; 
after all she is going to meet the other ladies and they are a critical lot.
She drives her white Mercedes and tries to park as close as possible
 near the café, when she enter there are kisses, big smiles and furtive
looks how the other ladies are dressed, colour combination and so on.
They all have long decorated nails this indicated they have a maid to 
do the dishes; they chat is about film stars and others in the news and 
how they dress. The ladies eat cream cakes and forget for a moment 
about dieting. This séance last about two hours and is the highlight of 
ladies day.  She drives home, changes her frock, makes a meal for her 
hubby just home and suntanned from his golfing, and tells him to take 
a shower since they are going to an art exhibition at eight.

Details | British Poem | |

She is British and I am an Indian

She is white and I am black
But she never care, how I am
Many hopes in me
Her hope is to enjoy
Many dreams in my mind
Her dream for a better holiday
I bother and care for tomorrow
But she live in present and today
She is British
And I am an Indian

She likes coffee
And I am with tea
Her food is burgers and pizza
Mine with roti and rice
our tastes are different
Our ways are different
Still She loves me
And I 'll die for her
She is British
And I am an Indian

She has many friends
But for me she is the only one
she is cute and every body love her
But she is the only one who loves me
When I am in sad
She comes with a kiss
Removing all the abstructles from my life
Still She is British
And I am an Indian

She want to stay with me 2-3 years
I want her whole my life
She is bold and too frank
I am backward and too shy
She tell me ''I love you''
I want to say that I will die without you
But the words struck on my lips
And comes out through the tears
Though She understands me
Ignore my tears and kiss me once again
And she is British
I am an Indian

Details | British Poem | |



Sorry but I can’t see much nice about BC
Us prairie boys like  skies blue,  not cloudy
And our  landscapes  flatter  and taughter 
Than  those wild mountains  of ocean water. 

All those moving  waves in English Bay
Look to me as if they are coming my way.
And so many trees they just litter the beach.
In  the plains we  only need a few  beech.

BC  transport  is not a fast mover
And music on  the  ferry could be  louder
Especially  from   Victoria  to Vancouver  -  
But it does serve the world’s best clam chowder.

Yes I give poetic credit when it’s due
And it happens  in my verse  plenty of times.
But how can I write nice poems, BC, for you
When  places  like   Tsawwassen  have no rhymes?

Details | British Poem | |


A savoury kedgeree
Lancashire hotpot
A prime beef wellington pie
With pan haggerty
Spotted-dick pudding
Real ale