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Best England Poems

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

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Details | England Poem |

A Room Full of Butterflies

Inspired by a Art gallery and a poem by Shelly.


A room full of  mottled multicolored butterflies
captured within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
Flirt and flutter a delicate ballet
among the pot plants
A splash of color
an oasis
among a drab row of urban gray
The door is opened
and the butterflies are released to freedom
flying high above
lush green trees
in clear unblemished skies
floating like autumn fallen leaves
in a gentle breeze
painted Ladies
that rested on my heart for a while
and made it smile
bringing pleasure to my eye
A symbol of freedom and eternity
filling my dreams
with all the treasures of summer.




Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Sept.


Details | England Poem |

Broken England

Broken England
By Steven Cooke

My Brave ancestors of England,
Look away, for I offend thee.

For your England is no more.
Decay eats away at this fallen empire.
Your people divided,
Its laws weakened by Europe’s power.
Its leadership, protecting the few.
The fresh air of your Country gone,
Only the stench of anarchy remains
Heroes of The Somme look away for I offend thee.

Stock Market Parasites, take without producing
Corporations overwhelm, the weak,
Without paying their due.
Their off shore havens digest the life blood of this once great nation,
Leaving the scraps of minimum wage for the masses to beg. 
The dead of Pashendale look away for I offend thee.

Government legislate to keep us in bondage to 66
Over the hill at 50, to wonder the dole queues
Youth denied education, 
Universities at a price,
Qualifications for the chosen few,
Unemployment, for the poor.
Our brothers of Gallipoli look away for I offend thee.

Our Cities are in pain.
Hopeless lives, with hopeless dreams,
Hopeless choices, drugs, crime,
Or silence behind closed doors.
Babies born to fail,
Children, exposed to depression and chips.
The ghosts of Arnhem look away for I offend thee.

A voice in the darkness, shouts its rage
The iron curtain of youth descends on England
This is no Lennon revolution,
This is youth with no future, abandoned by government
No rules here to obey, No Civic pride,
 No sense of History, no Country to protect
The Saviours of Goose green look away for I offend thee

But fat cats beware, for there is a dream,
That cannot be bought.
A warning from history.
A country cannot go forward,
Without learning from the past.

Your greed will self destruct
Your Paradise a lie
For a Dangerous wind now blows,
And common sense, will fail.
For England is Broken,
And life will never be the same,
In England’s green and pleasant land.
Now It is my turn to look away, 
for you see this offends me too.



Details | England Poem |

Bubbletown Blews

Bubbletown  Blews


Whilst sitting and lying by a babbling brook
for once through the water I took a deeper look
then I saw into Bubbletown, bubbles popping with glee
for that is what they are meant to be
Down there, theres no time for heirs and graces
and no disrespect to creeds and races

no single bubble is better no matter how big or small
for history,religion and status there is no need at all
A bubbles life is simple you see to try not to pop for as long as can be
yet when it pops it sets others free

Then with a whip and a splash stuck to a sticklebacks fin
a bubble escapes from deep within 
no record will be remembered of this noble fleet
and  the bubble will join another bubbletown meet
no questions asked just join in the throng
for all bubble's are equal no matter how big and strong

and remember this as long as they thrive
the round little folk keep the whole stream alive
So take from this no matter how small and meek
the powers inside us to be strong and unique

just be like a bubble and raise to attest
then my son or daughter you can be like the rest 
no better no worse and you can fly
your sky is your limit if you put no one down, and greet others from outside of town
with a smile and a welcome instead of a frown !!!

MB 2013


Details | England Poem |

A 'Twisted' Sense of Pride

This June, our national football team
Is going to South Africa, for the World Cup
When we were told not to wear our team colours
I thought, ‘This country has gone bottom up!’

Since when did our nation get twisted
Into a totalitarian state?
Where certain minorities have their say
Fuelling the ‘BNP’s’ fires of hate

They wouldn’t have even dare to constrain
The Welsh, the Irish or Scots
Who if told not to wear their teams colours
Would rather be hung, drawn, quartered or shot

Their sense of pride in their history
And for their Countries, is world renowned,
For England to bow to the vociferous few
Would be letting the team in South Africa down

Not to mention our troops in Afghanistan
Fighting terror so we can live free
Nailing their colours to the mast
Standing proud in the fight for their country

We here in England must echo that pride
As onwards all ‘our boys’ forge
And I for one, will be flying my flag
For Queen, Country, ‘boys’ and Saint George.


Details | England Poem |

Mocking The Raven

When I was young, I would mock the raven,
Never dreaming her harsh call was a cry
Across the water to the castle of her brother
King Bram, the Raven, ruler of the British Isles.
Never did I dream of the destruction 
That would follow this desperate plea
Sent upon the wings of a blackened crow.

When I was young, I thought childhood
Would last forever; secure in my father's care,
Content in the loving arms of my mother,
Never did I dream of the devastating war
That would follow this messenger of our doom
Carried across the seas to inflict upon our land
A war of vengeful purpose and contempt.

When I was young, peace prevailed in our land;
Our King was just and beloved by his people.
Then came a marriage, an alliance between
Ireland and England.  Queen Branwen;
Discontent, lonely, hungry for power,
Hated by her court for the intrigue
And bloody sanctions imposed upon all
Who did not obey her sanctimonious whim;
Queen Branwen, beautiful daughter of England.

When I was young, I stood beneath
The blasted pine, looking up at the black bird
As she screamed out her litany of wrongs,
Watching as she lifted her wings to soar across the water.
My father, general of Ireland, fell upon the shores
Fighting to repel Bran's vengeful warriors;
My mother, condemned by her beauty
Fell among the vanquished women.

When I was young, I did not fear the raven;
Now I live in the court of the Raven King,
He, who conquered my people for naught as his sister
Queen Branwen, the White Raven, took her life
And walks now, shriven and pale, among the graves
Of the fallen warriors; forever singing her lament
Of sorrow and regret; far too late, far too late.

When I was young, I believed in the goodness of men.
Now I am old; my raven hair is streaked with silver.
The voice of Bran echoes through this palace
As he cries out exhortations to his conquering soldiers;
As he cries for peace and fellowship in his land.
When I was young, I would mock the raven;
Now I am old and have harnessed the power
Of the raven's call.  I cry to my people for vengeance;
I wait for their rescue, as I haunt the halls of the Raven King.



[Loosely based on the legend of Bran, the Raven King of England 
and Branwen, his sister, who was married to the king of Ireland.  
It is said that King Bran speaks still in England through the cries of the raven.]


{by Deb Radke -- written for the contest 'Among the Dead'}




Details | England Poem |

The fairy

A very long time ago 
a family of Hobbits and butterflies met

In the deep magical forest
In Northern England they bred 

Now since then we have had a few spotting's
of what seems to be a firefly or sparkler lighting

On a new moon she flickers  colors of beauty , eyes of Emerald , wings of gold
Floating up mystical streams of white caps on a oak leaves she goes

The glimpse of a firefly or was that a Fairy in Flight ?
purple , pink , white rainbow lights , within the trees of twilight

The night Owl watches over her with  loyal protection 
the Fairy is going extinct , the animals of the forest honor the magic I mention

The Fairy fly's from Tree to Wild flower , The Birds awaken to sing
For they will orchestrate the stage , she dances' the  ballet and will twirl

Her grace is captivating and enchanting through every living creature and thing .
On a Boat she stole away , it has been said , on the Columbus 

You may  spot her having Jasmine tea and cranberry crumpets with a dollop of maple 
Or a whole flock have been spotted by Marion berries , 4 o'clock tea  ,a bell will be ringed. 

If the Fairy chooses to be seen , it has been said Love will enter your life and existence , The Fairy beauty , a Vision will live in your dreams .

The Magic will be carried and her vision to be cherished .
Next time you are out on a mystical night ,look closely at the flickering lights .

The Fairy will bless your precious soul with love and insight .
 for my Daughters ,
Tawny Marie, Danielle and Grandchild, Trinity Faith. 
                                     




Details | England Poem |

For the love of Princess Rose

For the love of Princess Rose.

Way back in the darkest times
There lived a wondrous Knight
He had blue eyes, and a handsome face
And his mind was very bright
He lived for goodness, his ideals
Were the highest in the land
And everybody loved this knight
They thought him mighty grand.

He shrunk from no one in the land
He’d fought ten dragons too
As he vied for the love of Princess Rose
Oh, he loved her so true
Yet she was loved by another knight
And so they had to fight
That was the way in those dark days
It was considered right

A tournament it was arranged
And the two men faced each other
Both swore that until the end
They would never love another
The fight was on, as Rose, she watched
The man she loved so much
Fight a man she could not bear
Who her heart did not touch.

Now Don, he was the Knight of choice
He fought like a blessed demon
He was not an evil man
Yet he was filled with Venom
And when the fight was over with
Her knight of choice did win
As love did conquer everything
And the princess married him.

13 August 2013 1147hrs.


Details | England Poem |

he is leaving home

                             
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face , knowing something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                       for he was a stand in hired William Cambell  , he filled his shoes 
                      only to bring diversity and to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone whom looked grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                                                                                                                                                                   In  his        
                              world  of   secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                






Details | England Poem |

The Castle

In the green countryside of Wales,
A castle sits, dark and decaying,
It holds many ghostly tales,
That the locals keep relaying.

Surrounded by majestic, rolling hillsides,
Covered by a gray, misty shroud,
And cliffs high above the blue sea tides,
Where voices still ring out loud.

What was once a beautiful garden,
Where all the children used to play,
Has been left to whither and harden,
Just as the castle was left to decay.

Long cobwebs hang like curtains of lace,
In windows that remain dark and cold,
Someone still walks the crumbling staircase,
Just as they did in the days of old.

They walk the towers and through the halls,
Making the dusty, wooden floors creak,
Their portraits still hang on the walls,
Where the voices of the dead still speak.

The empty rooms will never make a sound,
But, if you listen hard enough to their history,
Stories of romance and love still abound,
Along with secrets of murders and mystery.





Written by: Kelly Deschler - August 8th, 2013
Giorgio V's contest - "In The Faraway" - the theme is gothic


Details | England Poem |

Kingdom Lost

In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march  
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die, 
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone 
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is 
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown, 
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
was mistaken,
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
 
 
Copyright © 2013
 


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