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.

Terrorize me, Terrorise me not, Proud to be British by Trim, Nick
British Summertime by Horne, David
Sex and the British by Bloom, Stephen
Good Friday Gratitude To Settlers: Especially British and Dutch by Deo, Anil
The British Poppy by Godwin, Terry
British Girls Whoop Whoop by Ellison, Jack
British virgin isle by Migliara, Lorenzo
Tony Blair The Tammy Wynette of British Politics by Archichek, Anna
The June British Referendum by Derradji, Abder
The British Weather by McConnell, Gordon

View all new British Poems

The Best British Poems

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Dreaming With Butterflies


Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012

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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.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Please do not touch Just read the signs dotted around the gallery display So you take a selfie ... What harm can it do? Your camera shutter clicks clicks clicks as you take selfish selfie pics Teetering on your high heels you topple backwards like a destructive domino Art gallery display C R A S H E S to the floor Your picture won’t ever be placed in a photograph frame But hey You achieved your fifteen seconds of fame You took a selfie - How selfish! Modern Vanity Contest Sponsored by Lewis Raynes Inspired by newspaper article where a selfie goes wrong and causes around $200k damage to artwork by British artist Simon Birch 07-15-17

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

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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

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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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

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

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Manchester attack

Yet another incident has happened today
When will these terrorists go away
Manchester this time at a concert
Some taken to early some really hurt

Thier war now affecting the general public
These people are just really sick
To target young children having fun
Your sick and something will be done 

You will not scare us of British decent
Your cowardly acts you must repent
We will hunt you down and take you in
A six foot cell your life will begin

Prayers go to all those that were there
Great British people show that you care
For those that have lost I shed a tear
Defeat this terrorism show no fear

Stay alert and watch each others backs
We can beat these cowardly attacks

Copyright © Gordon Alexander | Year Posted 2017

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The Race

It’s not about the winning or losing But how the race is run To be in the Winners Circle To bask in limelight’s fun It’s not about the winning or losing But how the race is run The preparation starts well before The race is even begun It’s not about the winning or losing But how one runs the race In a Universe full of Abundance One must take their place It’s not about the winning or losing But how the game is played It’s always great in the winner’s circle Especially when one meets the grade Life is but a transitional race In which we take our place It’s a Universe full of abundance To foul would be bad taste Grievances set aside In Harmony enjoy the treat A Universe full of Abundance The World is at your feet Solitary you battle through the race On a journey all alone Let’s join you then and run in fun That’s how this race is run
Footnote: The music is from the movie 'Chariots of Fire', a true story of two young dedicated British contenders with different religious denominations who were fierce competitors in the 1924 Paris Olympics. Music by - 2CELLOS, Luka Sulic and Stjepan Hauser in their new album playing the Title from 'Chariots of Fire' by Vangelis with London Symphony Orchestra. POTD 15th July 2017

Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017

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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 &

~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

~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.

Copyright © Hitendra Mehta | Year Posted 2011

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Concerning Math and How To Say It

The British call it maths,
but the Americans ditch the s
causing much international scorn.
But for our sake, p'raps it'd be best
to keep subjects
only halfway grasped
in the singular form.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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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.”

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014

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Richard Lamoureux

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

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

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Elizabeth II

See there! She flies about the moor
Upon her favoured mount.
The waving, flowing grassy shore
bears hoofprints all about.
The waves her steed surmounts.
Her hair is flying here and there;
She hasn't thought of care.

Her little sister, Margaret Rose
Thro' panelled glass observes
As Lilibet, the rider, goes
At breakneck turns and curves.
The joy of youth deserves
A few such wild or reckless ways
Some pleasures in its days.

Her pony soon is waxing faint
(To him we lay no blame!)
She leads him to the arbour gate,
Now finished with her game.
Her sister calls her name.
A liv'ried lad bears horse away;
She runs to hear her sister say:

"Since Uncle had to abdicate,
Now Father rules the land.
Does that not mean it is your fate
As next in line to stand
As queen o'er British sand?"
"Yes, someday that may happen too."
Then Rose said this: "Poor you."

But Lilibet thought not that way,
She strengthened for the task;
Made ready for the coming day
And all that it would ask.
(It sure would be a tax
Becoming an authority,
Yet bound by law's decree.)

From duty's call she would not shrink;
The challenge she'd embrace.
Her high morale she'd not let sink,
But obstacles would face;
And God would give the grace
To yet be brave when dangers be,
And reign with equity.

{Lilibet was Elizabeth's nickname as a child among the Royal Family}

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

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Poop Scoop- For Limerick II Contest

She once wrote a poem on POOP,
and one on men's parts that would droop!
Some think she is crass,
but this British lass
on humor has got the REAL SCOOP!!!

For Jan's Limerick Contest
February 21, 2015

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

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We loved the land
We tilled the earth, under sun we toiled
We pledged our souls, to nature’s whim
The King of France none to pleased

We took the sacraments
We held our faith, mournful to fates embrace
The British demanded a new oath we take
And scalped we were, both sides did partake

Our villages burned, our fields afire
Our woman and children, in hunger perished
We feared Monckton, a hunter of death
And from him, to ships hold, deported at best

We preyed to Canada, to lend us a hand
Evangeline an angel of our land
The darkened forests, to where we fled
Became bloody in battles, and turned to red

For Redcoats wandered in search of scalps
As Father Le Loutre preached unheavenly deeds
He was bloodthirsty and in skirmishes his evil flourished
His Mikmaq warriors helped rivers flow to blood

We lived along the rivers edge
We fought them all, to no one did we pledge
As serfs we served, to whom did rule
In the end, the forest sang our quiet eulogy

The vessels sailed from Halifax
With their human cargo of Partisans
Off to the West Indies, and a new land
Disease triumphed where Lord Laurence failed

And so the voyage, onward went
The traditions of Grand Pre, to Louisiana was lent
And there they settled, peace at last
As angels of their battles, in sacrifice did rest

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

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Fight For Freedom

Fight For Freedom The metal taste of blood on our lips As we recall history without any quips, A century ago when naivety rose From the tiered ashes of their ancestral woes, To fight against ominous oppression, Cast by Britain’s omnipotent obsession With slavery and pillaging—riches so handsome— All for the good of a tyrannical Kingdom. Denied the right to their native tongue Executed for freedom, to their deaths they sung, So wounded, some unable to stand, Strapped to a chair, ashes united with land. He and his brothers had good reason to live, But for freedom, their lives, they were willing to give. On Easter Monday, it all began, Their actions did speak louder than Words ignored by the English man, Brutalised by the Black and Tan. So! It was legal, didn’t make it right, These men, women and children put up a fight, Their blood and souls they did give, They fought and died so that I may live. 24th April 2016 Nicola Byrne In memory of the women, men and children who died and/or fought, between 24th April 1916 and 17th December 1922, when the last of the British forces embarked. They gave so much so that the people of Ireland may preside over their own country and live in a state, free from tyranny, exclusions and poverty. I have tremendous respect to those who don’t accept things as they are, and who persevere to make a better life for others.

Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2016

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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

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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For The Love Of Lexicon

My Mother taught me
how to see through language, 
paper was rare, iron ink wasn't free
so she sold some jewelry for porcelain lettering, 
and we clapped and sang the alphabet into life
our life, our joy, our phonetic rhapsody,
the consonants kicked and the syllables scrambled
a speedy scrimmage to espirited syntax, rat, owl, fowl,
star, far, wish and fish...
Father's farm imparted the words of work
into the grammar of growing up grounded
to the earth, to the ethic of honest effort,
through labor we are educated
and by self motivation edified,
we pronounced productivity with pride
enunciated achievement with enthusiasm
diction being defined by determination, 
in the forests and furrows form was function
the meaning of everything was alive
spelled by sunlight and sound
definition depended on how action ended,
I wanted the source,  the roots of communication
rudiments in the mud, reason in the breeze, 
Papa found me spelling God and glory in the dirt
and told me that one day I'd build an arch for the alphabet, 
I asked, how come the British speak and spell differently, 
Papa said...Son, we're not British,  we're Americans now,
battle is beginning to breathe amongst our folk,
it's time to defend our freedom Noah...
battle broke open in 1775, revolution ripped the fabric of colonization, 
the aftermath availed a new arsenal of rights
for a newborn civilization that will not rely on the Past for promise
rather, we will move toward a future that favors the flares of freedom,
there is only one instrument of intellect that can unite us,
the Egnlish language is the linchpin,  eclectic and euphonious,
capable of encouraging introspection, industry and invention
it is the poetry and pragmatism of human potential, 
I will create the first modern, monolithic dictionary
for our nation, a book bound for every home
a scripture scribed for earnest scrutiny, 
thousands upon thousands of words
waiting for your eyes to convert them into self empowerment, 

America, a nation needing no permission to prosper,
Bravery, the truest expression of beliefs, 
Constitution, a framework of motivations establishing identity, 
Deliverance,  to be delivered out of darkness by sacred desire,
Enlightenment, uninterrupted understanding of unveiled nature,
Freedom, having the ability to determine your destiny,
Gamble, to risk something of value for greater value, 
Honesty, an awareness of incorrupt feelings,
Ingenuity, inventive adaptation leading to victory, 
Justice, the cost of living,
Kindness,  respecting the feelings of others as if they were your own,
Leadership, accepting the price for commitment, 
Mastery, having total control of your craft,
Nuclear, harmony within volatility, 
Oath, to offer your honor for an ideal,
Providence, the guiding intelligence inspiring humanity, 
Question, an excuse to explore,
Redemption, being reborn through the thorns of fault,
Sovereignty, existing outside the jurisdiction of others,
Trust, a condition in which vulnerability becomes a virtue,
Unprecedented, something that has never been done before,
Vigilance, being prepared to dominate violators, 
War, aggressive confrontation that aims to eliminate opposition, 
Xenophobia, having a distrust of foreign origins,
Yearn, to feel the pangs of obsession, 
Zest, to exhibit an excitement for life -

This poem is dedicated to Noah Webster (1758 - 1843), an American icon
who labored for 28 years to create the first modern, American English Dictionary
consisting of 70, 000 words stimulating and educating
the intellects of tens of millions of Americans,  unting the people
of the United States of America with a shared language
that has proven itself to be nothing short of divine...Justin A. Bordner

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016

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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.

Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2013

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Thoughts of Heaven and other things

Who promised you life would be easy?
Who whispered this excuse?
How can pain be an addition to the life experience?
Answers provided are inadequate to the task.
Who will sit with you and hold you in the unknown?

In the silence of the morning,
I listen for the sound of your heartbeat.
I reach for you and trace the line of your face.
I smell the fragrance of your skin.
I envy the sun as it kisses the small of your back.
I rest in the music of your breath, your slow awakening!

How long have you felt this way?
Why have you not come to me?
I am here, I am within you and without.
Loneliness and fear need not compel.
For you are lifted on whispers of thought!

I wish to be justified
"You are justified from the foundations of the Earth,
to the moment of the quiet walk.
Listen to the wind carry your name.
Feel the music fill your innermost being.
As the song builds to the innermost surprise!"

What is Heaven?
Is it the peace that resides between heart beats?
Is the smallness of it large enough to contain God's Essence?
When does it begin?
Why is it so hard to start?

The small white dog trembles,
as the river runs wild!
Flys dance above the water.
"Go" I say releasing you into the water.
Feeling the depth of love,
as it covers the surface of you.

A compilation poem written by Norm Millross, Lesley-Anne Evans and Richard Lamoureux.
This was six separate pieces organized into one piece. We each alternated line by line.
Norm and Lesley-Anne are fellow poets here In Kelowna British Columbia.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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Mohammad al-Hah Ali

You looked up to the skies
Praying angels would guide your voyage… sigh
Away for the brutality, of Assad and his war
You escaped, brothers three in arms
Loving, and wanting to build a better score

Wishing peace and happiness, to bury all wars strife
Dreams of an engineer filled with hope and new life
The irony is that you would have to fear
Some engineer before you, who let the fires
Kill the poor the small and unspoken ones
Assad you see appears in many forms
Evil and greed often born of the same seed

I only say to you and your brothers
We weep for you, one and all, no one should suffer
I too now, have a dream
A building, beautiful, majestic and masonically tall
Named after a builder who lost his future in London’s fall
To the British elite who care not at all
Dignity belongs to all people, no matter small or tall

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

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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.


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.


Kanpur India 12th August 2010                        to continue in 30


* 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 

If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can 
Send me an email on

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. 


Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010

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If those of you who refuse to speak English would care to put on the headphones provided, all announcements are available in simultaneous Gaelic translation, courtesy of BBC Alba.
Progressive is the official airline of the Scottish National Party, a proudly independent, equal-opportunities transport provider. We welcome passengers from all ethnic backgrounds and belief systems — except, of course, the English, the Red Tories and ‘No’ voters.
We are particularly keen to attract customers from the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual, transgendered, transvestite, questioning and bi-curious communities, as well as non-homosexual men in kilts.
I’d also like to welcome on board one of our celebrity frequent fliers, Sir Sean Connery, who has just jetted in to Scotland from tax exile in the Bahamas to lend us his support.

See you, Double-O-Seven!
Please accept our apologies for the delay in the launch of Ayr Force One, which was due to start last September but failed to get off the ground because of a shortfall in projected passenger numbers.
We stuck to our business model and refused to accept that temporary setback. And as a result it is my pleasure today to extend a very warm welcome to our 56 newly-elected SNP MPs who have joined us on our maiden flight south.
We are confident that we can provide a strong alternative to British Cameroonian, even though two other airlines have recently suffered spectacular collapses.
Progressive is a full service operator, unlike some of our low budget, no-frills competitors, who are only in the business so they can cut services and generate huge profits for their millionaire, non-dom owners.
We are proud to provide all our passengers with unlimited, unrestricted anti-austerity return tickets, completely free of charge. Once we have reached our cruising altitude we will be passing through the cabin offering complimentary snacks and beverages, including a traditional selection of deep-fried Mars Bars, pakoras and pizzas.
Our Gleneagles-trained chef has also prepared a special commemorative menu to celebrate this historic flight.

Why not start with some delicious Scottish caviar from our home-grown, free-range Sturgeon or a bowl of our award-winning artisan electric soup?
And for your main course, you can choose between Wild Salmond, poached in pink champagne, and fillet of Angus Robertson beef. The menu can be found printed on the sick bag in the seat pocket in front of you.
We also offer a full bar service, including premium brands such as Tennent’s Super and Smirnoff Ice, which we are stocking specially for the new member for Paisley and Renfrewshire South, Mhairi Black, who we are privileged to have travelling with us today. Mhairi regards Smirnoff Ice as the drink of the Gods.
You may care to raise your glasses to toast Ms Black, who at just 20 years old has defeated Labour’s Douglas Alexander to become the youngest MP since the 17th century.

On yer go, Mhairi doll!
However, we regret that the drinks trolley is the only service on our flight that is not complimentary as we are required to adhere to the Scottish government’s minimum pricing policy, designed to combat alcohol-related violence.
And please be advised that alcohol should only be consumed in accordance with the new Scottish drink-drive laws. Passengers will be limited to a small glass of wine, a single whisky or two-thirds of a pint of beer. Something like that, anyway. No one’s quite sure, so best stick to Irn-Bru. Passengers will be subjected to random breath-tests after their meal.
I should also remind you that it is a criminal offence to smoke on this flight and that includes pipes, roll-ups, spliffs and e-cigarettes.
Please familiarise yourself with our state-of-the-art, in-flight entertainment service. On our classic movie channel, you’ll find Braveheart, which tells of William Wallace’s heroic struggle for independence against the English scum, like that woman who wrote Harry Potter, and Scottish traitors like Sir Alex Ferguson.

We are also very pleased to be screening an exclusive preview of Planespotting, based on the latest novel by Scotland’s own Irvine Welsh, who lives in Chicago.
This follow-up to Trainspotting centres on the adventures of a planeload of welfare junkies heading for London to rob the English to fund their dependency culture. 
Passengers may also access our on-board internet wi-fi service. Feel free to troll opponents of independence, but please be warned that the Police Scotland Diversity and Hate Crime Task Force will be monitoring Twitter for any inappropriate comments of a homophobic or sectarian nature.
The singing of football songs is strictly forbidden on this aircraft and anyone humming The Sash My Father Wore will be arrested on arrival and sent back to Barlinnie prison.
Our flight plan today takes us over the Forth Bridge and across to the former Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath seat of class traitor Gordon Brown, now safely in the hands of our patriotic SNP.

You will also see the wind farms, upon which all of Scotland’s energy needs will depend once we achieve independence and the oil runs out. If you look closely, some of these windmills may actually be turning.
As we fly over the Clyde, if it isn’t raining — which it probably will be — you’ll be able to spot the soon-to-be-decommissioned Trident submarine base. Unfortunately, once we cross the border on our way south, the view begins to turn bleak since virtually every constituency on our route to Westminster is now held by the hated Tories.
Sit back, enjoy your flight and dream of freedom, just so long as the English are paying. We are now flying by the seat of our pants.
When you deplane at London Westminster, please remember to take all your grievances, hubris and sense of entitlement with you.
Have a great day. And thank you for choosing Ayr Force One.


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2016

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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  

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2012

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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.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

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The Stud from the Spud State and the Red Dragon Damsel

Marry Your Best Friend To Get the Best of Both Worlds

Not many can claim they met their spouse in a battle of wits
much less the fabled (don't believe a word of it!) Internet.
But my uncle, he's not many. And my new aunt? Well she's a keeper.
And it wasn't love like a summer fling --- but it goes much deeper.
The rumors you heard - it's all too true - they met on Online Scrabble:
sesquipedalians by heart, but in the strictest sense, true Word Warriors.
Her last turn was an "I Do"... and when it came, he knew that he was done for:
pussyfooting through the back door, the tenacious Triple Word Score.
The date was planned - his bachelorhood canned. Compensated on Christmas day,
a wifie from Wales to tie the knot with my uncle the Stud from the Spud State.
The Red Dragon Damsel flew in (too strong to be distressed) into my uncle's country life.
(I still remember his clenched fists pouring buckets at the altar ... his first love)
And she brought her little Dragoness, too --- a fiery spark named Emily.
My job was to walk my new British cousin down the aisle,
as she whispered to me, "Should we link arms?"
And though I should have said,  "What's the harm?"
instead of a rather robotic canter --- it now brings a smile.
My lovely Aunt Laura wore an eggplant dress, as if too challenge the mountain majesty
that peaked through the church window of that fine Idahoan morn.
Her glorious entry introduced by a Celtic song that would have made Enya weep,
as the vertigo of vows came to a close like a caged bird being released.
Mariah Carey's famous Christmas hit took to life --- All I Want Is You, rang true,
as they took each other's arms to dance celebrating an unlikely circumstance.
Crossing oceans to become One: she from Barry, and he from Boise.
The After Party --- filled with giggles, tears and rip-roaring stories from every point of view.
The wedding cake (believe it or not) was a Scrabble board:
one slice was Congratulations - and though a bit silly, to me it was poetry.
And my uncle - you could tell - was simply dumbfounded
as she took the words right out of his mouth

... with a crumb-filled smooch.

Written February 27th, 2016.
For the My Wedding Day Is Special Because... hosted by Olive Eloisa Guillermo

NOTE: I've never been married before, so I hope writing about my uncle's wedding instead is acceptable.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016