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.
Politicians abandon native life,
Broken lands civil strife.
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)
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
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
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
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.
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
I’M SORRY ABOUT BRITISH COLUMBIA
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?
A savoury kedgeree
A prime beef wellington pie
With pan haggerty