Best British Poems
WORLD WAR 11 THROUGH THE EYES OF MY MOM
POEM NO. 1 OF TRILOGY
World war 11 was nearing its end,
The Nazis losing ground
In Russia, been driven out of Moscow,
Everywhere snow bound,
Dying like flies because of the bitter cold,
No Food, no shelter, just attack after attack by
The Russians, the bold!
Meanwhile, the whole of Europe
Glued to their radio,
Listening to how the allies
Were pushing the enemy back,
The morale of the people was
Beginning to crack,
It was time, enough was enough,
War was no fun,
The Greek folk were done!
My mum and her friend next door
Would visit each other,
Warned so often by my grandfather
And her friend’s brother,
Beware, the march of the Nazi boot,
Their knock on your door,
No reason required , they would just shoot
Or else men dragged out to be shot,
Because a Nazi soldier was found dead
Revenge to the Nazi’s was sweet,
They had taken the Greeks peoples means
Their bread
For over four years,
The Greeks had shed many tears.
Leaving wives, daughters, sisters bereft to pine,
The Nazi’s war crimes were not ‘klein’!
No light
At night,
To show through their curtains,
So blankets hung up in fear
Of their lives
The Nazis fearless
Cared not who survives!
The sound of gunshots was an everyday thing,
For every Greek shot, the church bells would ring!
The Greek underground
Was profound,
Working with the French, they made victory sound.
The allies were advancing
And the Germans retreating,
Small pockets of them stayed behind,
They had to surrender, or die,
As the British troops marched through the streets
Liberating Greece, A child beats
On his drum,
His mom thankful the good guys have come!
So many cheers
The Greek peoples tears,
Had rained down for years.
Athens the capital of Greece was now free,
In the name of The Father,The son, and The Holy Spirit,
All made the sign of the cross, the Holy Three
The date October nineteen forty four
The fear of the Nazi boot at their door,
No more!
It's the only land that you can
get all seasons in one day
you name it UK displays it
all the colors from blue to grey
It certainly has loads of great variety
from sun clouds snow and pouring rain
to hail winds storms and freezing ice
has such a staining effect on the brain
The north is such damp climate
having wet damp miserable outlook
fills one with negative thoughts
when sun shines it seems a fluke
In the south where it's bright
as it's mostly warmer with sunshine
for it's labelled the English riviera
where it matures like a good wine
The east has real mighty gale force
as America's conditions effect the west
when they come across from States
on the atlantic waves full crest
So that's Britain's wayward weather
like it or lump it that's your lot
remember you guys across the pond
don't send everything that you've got!
(Just some thoughts on the UK weather and how it varies so much, also a little quip at you guys in US where we seem to get the effects of your east coast storms but rarely your sunshine. but no matter we love you all!!!)
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.
Today it’s Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
Entrants are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Old Ted ‘s ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Bertha's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
the trophy’s been on his top shelf, he hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Bertha stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s about fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake; his wrist goes fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
they toss their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his in mind
Ted lunges at the white tape, but the result’s declared a draw
Bill suggests they have a ‘toss off’ - there’s not been a draw before
Both men take a breather, awaiting a fresh pancake to toss
if either of them drops their pancake it will be a great loss
Both men stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, all eager to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops and grabs Ted’s pancake for its dinner
Ted starts to shout and stamps his feet when it’s announced Bill's won
he takes it all too seriously, but Bill declared the toss off was such fun!
Poem edited - originally posted in 2017
02/16/21
Quis? Ego
~ on the anointing of Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson
So what if it was just a drunken dare
Quis? Ego! Made at Eton long ago
I dub thee Boris of the Golden Hair
Servus, servum, servi, servo, servo
So what if afterwards they went to town
and ordered tiny sparrows stuffed inside
six rare exotic birds and chased it down
with virgins' tears in mouths so open wide
one could believe designed to fit the poor
in at such times there are no partridges
Amo! Amas! Deus! Deum! and more
Dom Perignon! To Boris! Boris is
The Chosen One! So long ago, the dare
At Eton, or more probably, elsewhere
© Gail Foster 24th July 2019
They said we’d have snow and, by God, they were right
I’m told that it came down just after midnight
But systems in place and procedures pre-planned
Meant our society could make a stand
They’ve closed all the schools and they’ve cancelled the trains
They’ve banned all the buses from tight country lanes
And all the armed forces are still on standby
While shops have toboggans piled up to the sky
Motorbike riders keep feet near the ground
For fear that black ice they can’t see spins them round
The soup kitchens sprang into life at great speed
So hungry and half frozen people can feed
The snowploughs have been out on duty all night
People took comfort at that very sight
And some will take refuge in local church halls
So we’ll be prepared when that second flake falls
"Rabbir hamhuma kama Rabbayani Sagheera."
("My Lord, have mercy upon my parents as they brought me up when I was small.")
.
In every tongue of every land, in every syllable ever uttered
resides one pure word: Mother.
A face adorned like a flower in full bloom,
a grace radiant as the full moon’s glow, balanced in magical light.
Mother, the name of love that stretches across the cosmos,
the glory of earthly immortality.
She is a realm within my bones,
When I was lost in the depths of a storm-dark night,
She was the light that showed me the way.
Mother. Mother, and mother again.
Every word, every verse, every breath is mother.
I found Allah in her eyes.
I discovered the universe in her love.
She nourished me, nurtured me,
like a gem too sacred to be bought or sold.
She taught me how to live
to cherish joy, to treasure kinship.
She taught me to resist the pull of vengeance,
to confront arrogance with friendship.
She even taught me to love those who hated me.
Such splendid strength, such mystic power lives within her.
It gave me the will to carry on,
to cross the ocean of sorrow by the force of her love.
When I bow in prayer, I still hear you whisper,
"Well done, my son, live with the fear of Allah."
Mother, a word full of miracles, beyond definition.
You taught me to rise to the sky,
yet keep my eyes on the earth.
I miss you most when night falls,
In the silence, your light still brightens my thoughts.
Mother, a star in the sky of my compassion.
Her radiant eyes kept watch over me.
I never believed in eternity without her.
But she left me…
Now I am alone!
A lifeless stone among the living.
Mother, that glorious, exalted name,
I have lost that name today.
I am left with only the ache of her absence.
No connection remains,
except the haunting presence of mortality,
whispering that I may only meet her soul beyond this world.
And so today,
I lift my hands to the Creator
and pray for her peace
just as she once raised hers
to protect me in her arms.
Today is Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
folk are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Ted is ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser.
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Maureen's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
He’s had the trophy on his shelf and hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Maureen stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s just fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake, his wrist is fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
tossing their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his in mind
Ted lunges for the white tape, but the race is declared a draw
Bill suggests a ‘toss off’ as there’s never been a draw before
Both men take a breather and get a fresh pancake to toss
if either drops their pancake then it will be to their loss
They both stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, desperate to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops grabbing Ted’s pancake for its dinner
He starts to shout, he’s quite irate when its declared Bill's won
Ted takes it all to seriously, Bill thought the toss off was such fun!
In England Shrove Tuesday is also known as pancake day and pancake races are held all over the UK.
Date 02/28/17
Make me actually LOL 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Nina Parmenter
a single white rose
purity gained victory
red rose in death throes
The County of Yorkshire England.
George Seal.
union designed
saints andrew george and patrick
three flags intertwined
The United Kingdom
George Seal
We invented cricket and football
And guess what we useless at them all
We loose every game
Drives the supporters insane
But we good for an after game brawl
Politicians abandon native life,
Trouble rising,
Broken lands civil strife.
By Robert J (Bob) Moore © 2016
I am a British soldier, been a soldier all my life
and back home in England, I left 2 kids and a wife
now I’m outside Sebastapol, with Cardigans Brigade
waiting to fight the Russians, Cavalry on Parade
We are part of Raglans Army, and we’re ready for the fray,
Light Dragoons and Lancers, and Hussars were there that day
We rode our light fast horses, for mobility and speed
Unarmoured, armed with lance and sword, skirmishing our deed
we have our orders “charge the guns” believe it we cannot
but ours is not to reason why, to do or die our lot
we sit our horses and wait there, for the word for us to go
hoping we won’t have to, a mistakes been made, we know.
We started down the valley, toward the waiting foe
riflemen to right and left, were shooting as we go
three quarters of a mile we rode, sprayed with shot and shell
600 of the Light Brigade, went charging into hell
A Russian battery to our left, another to our right
500 yards ahead of us, Russians, are starting to take flight
Line one went through the battery, 2 Regiments in all
the cost was great as all around, we saw men and horses fall
The second line of Cavalry, now charging through the guns
Cut and slash the gunners, as they turned to run
then came the third line, to complete the duty so assigned
to finish any gunners, or rifleman they could find
The charge is done, its “threes about”, and retire back up the hill
once more to brave the Valley of Death, Though the battle continued still
through the Russian skirmisher, rifle fire and cannon shot
the end for many brave soldier, who’d given all he’d got
And so the brave 600, with two thirds left behind
after a charge against 5000, returned, only to find
the heavies had not followed them, momentum had been lost
the charge, although magnificent, had not been worth the cost.
A savoury kedgeree
Lancashire hotpot
A prime beef wellington pie
With pan haggerty
Spotted-dick pudding
Real ale
Cheers!
Listen all that stumble and fallen into arms of Angels.
This of mine' loves so dearly, much more than she can be loved.
Seraphims above and ghastly deities below -
She is the purest form of them all.
Her smiles' elegantly reassuring.
Like a singing bird that deserves a hand of applause.
A bow and a red rose thrown at her feet.
Certainly we are assured -
That a slightest light gives an estranged bird a profound feeling of utmost fortitude.
Alas!
In similar ways, this of mine', pure at heart, glittered with beauty and profoundly made me speak out against the gods, Aphrodite and Eros that had unfairly confined such a beautiful bird that sang the words of Love from dawn to sunset.
(Dedication to Tione)
The British Red Poppy to me
Always creates a tear when near,
Half my family
Having died because of war.
All had to volunteer,
That was the thing to do.
My Great Grand father died
At a very early age.Died at at thirty,
Another war hero Was written on the doctors page.
My Grand Dad of whom I hardly knew,
Died going over the top,
Blown to pieces, no body to view.
His two daughters enlisted as nurses,
Killed together when their ferry hit a mine.
When we were winning the war too.
My dad was shot by a sniper,
My dad only lost his arm.
He puts the replacement on,
Every day and removes it at night.
It always hurts but he smiles,
And says he is feeling alright.
I pray to the God who is up there,
If you love us, stop all wars if you care.
Remembrance Day and the Poppy
Are important to me.
We must not forget those who gave their lives valiantly,
So that you and I can walk on our land and be free.
In the quietness of the night,
I give my own thankful prayer.
Our soldiers gave the greatest gift of all,
Protecting us with their love and care