British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
British Poem |
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
Contest: I am
Sponsor: Frank Herrera
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
British Poem |
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
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
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
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
Heineken open your world
... 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
Because that's the kind of mom you are
Sometimes you've got to break the rules
Blow your own bubble
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;
-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.
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2014
British Poem |
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
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2012
British Poem |
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
Who feels torn in two
Who fears his darker instincts
Resident and member of humanity
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
spell...cat, 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
British Poem |
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.
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 email@example.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.
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
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
British Poem |
WELCOME TO AYR FORCE ONE
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
British Poem |
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.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2006
British Poem |
British wanted profit
British wanted new land
Land rich in resources
Land of ivory and coffee
Coffee British could sell
Coffee Kenyans could not
Could not retrieve freedom
Could not reason with British
British took over land
British farmed fertile soil
Soil was Kenyan birthright
Soil of Kenyan ancestors
Ancestors buried here
Ancestors grieved for living
Living like refugees
Living in fear of England
England built railway
England bolstered power
Power taken by British
Power denied to Kenyans
Kenyans were angry
Angry since dishonored
Angry since stripped of rights
Rights taken from Kenyans
Rights only for British
British happy in new land
British prosperous future
Future lost Kenyans
Future lost hope
Hope came from bravery
Hope came from Dedan
Dedan well respected
Dedan joined Mau Mau
Mau Mau took oath
Mau Mau freedom fighters
Fighters for rights
Fighters for justice
Justice took much time
Justice took much blood
Blood shed for Dedan
Blood shed for hero
Hero was hung
Hero yet lives
Lives in the minds
Lives in the hearts
Hearts beat forever
Hearts beat freedom
Copyright © Dineen Williams Gault | Year Posted 2016
British Poem |
>I do love food.
When I was young, food was rationed.
So much of this, or that, you were allowed.
Each person had a ration book for adults and a child.
So much butter so much sugar, a few ounces of meat.
If you grew your own produce, fresh veg was a treat.
And what was put on the table, you did love to eat.
Many years have passed, and food is not rationed anymore.
The choice on the supermarket shelf, tells there is no sign of war.
Now we are leaving the EU, what will the supermarkets do?
Will the shelves be empty and bare?
Or will more British produce be for sale there.
I do love food, so hope it’s there.
British, nice with a price that’s fair.<
Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2016