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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.

British summer by Brown, Ruth
Soon Bound for British Isles by Horn, James
British Politics by colonsay, ken
THE BRITISH ARE COMING by Wattle, Miss
Native british rant by Nickle Read, David
The British Gingah by Larkin, Rebecca
middle class British couple in Algarve by hansen, jan oskar
A Very British Summer by Ali, Faiz
I'M SORRY ABOUT BRITISH COLUMBIA by Beck, Sidney
British Sport I say by Hall Mad Poet, Sidney

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The Best British Poems

Details | British Poem | |

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

More great poems below...


Details | British Poem | |

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

Details | British Poem | |

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.

Details | British Poem | |

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.



Details | British Poem | |

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.

More great poems below...


Details | British Poem | |

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

Details | British Poem | |

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

Details | British Poem | |

Kitcheners Poster, The Great War

February came in keeping with its ancient character a month of coldness, wetness and of thawing,
With departing frost and melting snow, February could possibly be called the wet season,
Maybe it's a time for floods and damp we are inclined to regard old severe winters gone,
It is the month of anticipation, it is the month of the snowdrop and sap stirs in trees.

A young boy reads the newspapers over and over, marvels at the men in front line France,
Dreaming a thousand dreams he is a hero, a fearless warrior, of the front line trenches,
He longs to stand up on the killing grounds waving the British flag leading an invasion,
As he wakes he is still a boy too young to sail across the seas, to be a real life hero. 

The boy ran off to join the army because of Kitchener's poster on a railway station wall,
A finger pointed from the poster 'We want you. We want you', that did it so he joined up,
He signed with a false name, lied about his age he was fourteen and said he was nineteen,
By the time he was fifteen he lived in trenches, his task was to register the dead and dying,

As he marched on towards the front lines he felt good he felt proud, he was now a soldier,
Rifle on his shoulder, grenades on his belt, bullets round his waist, he is a man of war,
Glancing to his left to his right his friends marched with him each step marched in time,
Proud to fight for king and country he stood tall, his face set hard his uniform perfect.

He was just a boy he should be home, enjoying his precious youth and chasing pretty girls,
Enjoying life, its strength hopes, working on his fathers farm the earth fresh and mellow,
Flowers bursting in English gardens beautiful daffodils, hyacinths, squills and saxifrages,
Almond trees blossomed, pear trees dropped petals, falling like snow, on a spring morning.

The boy was befriended looked after by comrades some had sons back home older than he was,
He would sit with them at night, safe as these were real soldiers, they had fought before,
Always tired always scared, he wondered why he had signed up, this isn't what he thought,
Fifteen years, a veteran in the trenches, an expert at siege fighting, an expert on death. 

Siege fighting, trench warfare, he was always at the front, ground lost, won and then lost,
After each battle he sat in filthy holes and trenches, as men died from sickness or wounds,
Survival in the muddy wet filth, full of hazards, shells, snipers and running from grenades,
The young man who saw the poster, now old and wizened, even though he did not need to shave.

A sunny frosty morning, a sound of bugles ripped through the silence, the trenches buzzed,
The dread of another day began early the massing army sluggish, but ready, faced the front,
A roar of darkened enemies, their backs to the sun, screamed and jumped into our trenches,
The noise of the rifles quietened, as their bayonets stabbed and turned, the boy fell down.

His body was trodden into the mud and gore, only the top his baggy trousers could be seen,
Friends pulled him out of the mire by his belt, a belt with hand made holes to fit a child,
A child so brave died that day, and hardened men knelt and wept openly, wretched deep sobs,
The boy a son to all of them, a tiny sparkle of light, in the longest darkness ever known. 

It went on, men dug tunnels crushed by 'cave In's' left to rot as they were already buried,
Rain, like hammer handles turned landscapes into muddy oceans, sludge poured into trenches,
In 1917 the battle of Passchendaele at Ypres, men drowned in shell craters, thick with mud,
Graves returned corpses, rivers of filth gushed, as war doesn't spare the dead or the buried.

Details | British Poem | |

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
 

Details | British Poem | |

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



.


Details | British Poem | |

DADDY WANTED TO FLY

Daddy wanted to fly
while growing up in the thirties
watching daredevil barnstorming pilots
in two seat bi-planes with wing walkers
facing down the wind

Daddy wanted to fly
when he cut holes in a bed sheet for his hands
Laced ribbon to tie around his neck
Sewed on a few rows of chicken feathers
and jumped off the barn
His mother wore out a hickory switch
on his backside     But

Daddy wanted to fly
WWII gave him an opportunity
He winged his way over the water to Europe
and learned to maintain his beloved planes
He watched single engine British Spitfires
American Mustangs and Thunderbolts
vanish into the horizon in search of enemy aircraft

Daddy wanted to fly
as passenger planes grew in size and scope
moving more people in shorter amounts of time
His family also expanded as children were born
so he took to the rivers instead of the skies
working on barges    And contented himself
watching Piper crop dusters fly low
over fertile fields running alongside the water

Daddy wanted to fly
but time rushed past
His heart gave out
And Daddy finally got his wings

Details | British Poem | |

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.

Details | British Poem | |

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. 















  




Details | British Poem | |

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  

Details | British Poem | |

Sgt Griffin

A sorte protege os audazes
Yes a sergeant rode in here as always with
A daring pair of rangers that made us just
Go pray it's back to Fashion Day because
Baby we won't have to pass away, oh no
To the reality of a fascist state
Although

It's hard it's envious of me to see you apart from me baby
Yeah into so many things that aren't a part of me maybe
It's the coat of arms oh stitched by those that harm
That cause alarm
Or the green card rejected by the armies of God be-
Cause they frost The Fall and that's

That's just to save us all
And the justice saves us all

And the style is designed
And with the sign of a Griffin
The symbolism of a lion of wisdom
Where the kings have wings
Oh don't you see
Yeah my envy of these things that separate you and me

So the poet in the philosopher
He said that he'd
He'd throw us the thrill of a cross but first
Put on a gauntlet, in a British accent "lad you can't let
Oh the truth bring out the worst and let it get
Yeah the best of you" so

We'll catch it without the hurt but
Still left with a loss of words 'cause

The style is designed
And with the sign of the Griffin
The symbolism of a lion of wisdom
Where the kings have wings
Oh don't you see
Yeah my envy of these things that separate you from me
My envy of things that separate you and me

Details | British Poem | |

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

Details | British Poem | |

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

Details | British Poem | |

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. 

Details | British Poem | |

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

Details | British Poem | |

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.


Details | British Poem | |

holokauston Page 2 of 2

After the quiet we all have to go
Dragged and carted by the Sonderkommando
To be dumped in pits covered by lime
A race to dispose by it's Human slime

Auschwitz, Buchenwald & Dachau slaughtered
Many a son, many a daughter
Experiments on children women and men
Some aged 90, many under 10

In 45, their end was near, how many alive would reappear
As Russians, British and US troops
Chased the Hun to their German roots
Each camp reached showed it's sordid past
Where millions of me, were massively gassed

In Auschwitz, to this present day
Birds don't fly, no animals play
The reminder is all for there to see
Those terrible days what happened to me

It's 1948, our Nation is born
From histories past, populations torn
To all who survived I wish you well
And our new born world, called Israel 


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php

Details | British Poem | |

Horrendous Hobyah Hordes Hijack Hamptonshire

The Scots, by God,
They drove them out,
With a single Yorkie
At their heels a' yappin'
The Hobyahs tried to fly
Their arms they were a flappin'

Some managed to take to sea
And landed in Hamptonshire,
Yes-serieee!!!
But the British Navy would have none of this,
Big battleships they did send
The Hobyahs saw their doom,
Their plans they did amend

They sailed on to American,
Landed at the New Jersey coast,
The hobyahs could find no better host!
They ate their way from Newark
All the way up to Camden
Avoiding kennels and dog warning signs
There was always people on their roast

Now, much of America
Might applaud this you see,
For most of Jersey's citizens
Were as useless as a rubber tree

Then the Jerseyites came up
With a plan,
They bribed the Hobyahs with
16 barges overfilled with McDonalds
Quarter-Pounders with Cheese-
With big sign saying- 
"This Way!!"
"Free PeopleBurgers"!!!!
And Infant Limb Fries!!!!"

Now this was not within
the Hobyah's realm of understanding,
But it sure sounded good....

So on the barges they climbed,
Till each and every one of these fiends
Took to sea, gorging themselves
On what they thought was fast human food

Once out in the bay, the barges were sunk
by remote control

On shore, a Mexican Beach Police Patrolman
was heard to ask Humphery Bogart,
for his beachcomber permit...

Humphrey barked back, "What?- Don't you see the history being made here?
If you're the beach police, let's see your badges!!"
The cop sneered, "Barges?....Barges?????.....We Don't Need No Sinking 
Barges!!!!"

(See "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre")

With the kind permission of Marnie Memis (Oh, I Love that name!)

Details | British Poem | |

Lest we forget the bad decisions

Sponsor	Nancy Jones
Contest Name	Things that suck

Lest we forget the Bad decisions …

(Myxo the rabbit steal the Bagmans Bunny),     first use of a deadly weapon
( Cane toads 4 cane beetles,)( 12 atom bombs exploded …what!!!)

Does anyone remember back in 1955 …
 why we were blessed with atom bombs….
we are lucky to be left alive …
The Liberals said its fine…
No need to bloody worry mate….
 12 atom bombs that’s all…
The Poms might us incinerate…(British)
And leave some mushrooms tall…

And we of the convict strain …
10 Thousand died that’s all…(bones kept 12 thousand suspicious deaths….)
Brisbane town a falling radioactive rain …
Geiger counter saw it fall……….tech guy couldn’t zero the counter it got worse near window,
rain in Brisbane…..1955/56
So I said to a Pom you dropped the bomb….
No, a tower they’d had a seat…
Strontium 90 in the milk for some….
Off the grass the cows did eat…….free milk for the school kiddies back then:(…

So the order of the garter …
Was given to some mug …
For atom bombs the barter….
And they surely burnt our rug.. :(
The master is there for the master….
To keep the worker down …..
To contract for the cheapest slave…
Like the business side of town …….

The CSIRO man Marston? In the fifties found enlarged thyroids in sheep he checked all over
Australia Found evidence of the radioactive poisoning of Australia …He tried to warn the
Australian public but only got his comments In some farmers magazine due to political
interference by the master …..

This is what happened and there is a documentry available in the Aussie ABC shop.

Details | British Poem | |

The E Street Bus

 
Each morning of my workweek, I board the E Street Bus
I see familiar faces, there are a lot of us
But if I look closer, I see more than faces
I see a kaleidoscope made up of many races

Two Asians in domestic clothes chat in a dialect
A well dressed man in front of me, is British I detect
Across the aisle, a black man with knitted cap pulled low
Hears music through his ear buds, while weaving to and fro

Several are Caucasian from many walks of life
Teens and kids and elders, a husband and a wife
A dark skinned man looks at me, and judging from his dress
His race is likely Indian, but that is just my guess

As my stop approaches, I look around again
Survey the many colors, the women, kids and men
As I step on the sidewalk, my day not yet unfurled
I'm thankful that the E Street bus let's me touch the world

Details | British Poem | |

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