Best Big Ben Poems
I courted a British lady
Whose name was Sadie O'Grady
She took off her drawers
I exclaimed ‘Oh good lord!’
You sure ain’t no LADY, matey!
Ding dong...,
Bell dings,
From,
Big Ben,
Building!
I
am
an iconic
British tower
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my official title is the Elizabeth tower
my bell is big, loud chimes every hour,
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my great clock face is bright and clean
that’s expressive, big, can easily be seen,
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I am photographed by tourist everyday
as I look down on people work and play,
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I’m constructed from concrete and brick
my walls are straight, strong and very thick,
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I am situated at the very end of Westminster
London capital of the British political centre,
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around the world loved by women and men
affectionately known by most as...BIG BEN.
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3/25/2018
Contest something concrete
Sponsored by Maureen Mcgreavy.
The tower’s high with striking chime
its clangor resonates.
With face of time now widely seen
clock’s scene thus viewed dictates.
Its dial white looks free of grime
new cleaning time awaits .
Loud presence yea with polished sheen
our day it regulates
Time. It seems there is never
enough. I wonder how this
could be . After all aren't we
able to tell time to slow down
every once in awhile? Why do
we live in such dark times? Is
it not us who invented clocks
and not vise versa? An
untimely betrayal by our own
creation. Never the time to
focus on or nurture the mind.
Instead time is made
equivalent to money. But as
time passes that too will be
gone. If only we took the time
to think. Maybe in time we'll
find the right time.
The freezing glass shivered as the clock handle stroke,
snow on Big Ben, just like you see in the books.
As the pages opened, from spring it started
and flipped through summer, autumn then came winter’s heart.
She remembered the bright sunflowers of spring,
glowing Big Ben, just like you see in the books.
The blazing sun of summer upon the clock
turned over the pages, shining Big Ben brought you in shock.
Autumn came and the yellow leaves fall.
Family gathered, cuddled and brawled
till finally when the leaves were gone and winter arrived.
Snow on Big Ben, just like you see in the books.
Left alone in this cold, lonely library
she felt her heart trembles as she recalled the memories.
Seasons passed, not a year and everything is gone,
through the windows, Big Ben on breaking dawn.
The time has come for all good men
To come your senses and leave the den
Start acting like the ladies
Do stuff a little shady
Like over-stuffed bras to attract our “Big Ben”
On Stopping Big Ben
Our bell is silent now;
Silence marks the passing of each hour.
The tower has no comment, makes no sound
Despite thirteen tons of primeval power.
Our bell is silent now;
The sun dimmed in mute protestation
The day it stopped, the day life turned
Into a sentence lacking punctuation.
Our bell is silent now;
It used to speak, same call to all,
No misunderstanding, no spin of truth,
Unlike those below in marbled hall.
Our bell is silent now;
Our voice diminished across the sphere,
Our orb and sceptre have played their part.
This isle now travels in hope or fear.
Our bell is silent now;
For four long years it will draw its breath,
And then exhale when hammer strikes,
To mark the tides of life and death.
Our bell is silent now;
Its tone and timbre oft in doubt,
Cracked and flawed like us all.
We’ll all miss his freedom shout.
Our bell is silent now;
Its silence diminishes us all.
As clods are washed away by sea,
Who does the bell toll for?
It tolls for thee.
We know that the English are rightly vexed
Queen Mary we bought; London Bridge annexed
Big Ben's up for bidding
So's the Thames, we aren't kidding
Then London and Leeds and Stonehenge are next
11/23/22
Stone hands slide across wooden faces,
With a timeless intention,
Of man’s damnation,
To glimpse at a movement,
Searching for salvation,
We stand in lashing winds,
Of spoken rage,
And caress the moment,
Before,
The wheat grain,
Slips,
Away,
And desperate housewives,
Transmute into schizophrenic princesses,
Waltzing through a ballroom palace,
Stone hands capture each breath,
And inside glass bottles,
They chime,
Then fall on disciples,
Time stops,
Life,
Dies…
A big "if"
get a whiff
Me? zero.
my hero...
Ben Franklin
wise statesman
scientist
columnist.
Ben's passwords -
Poor Richard's
crackerjack
almanack.
Did Silence
Dogood sense
women's rights
and insights?
Philly fire
would inspire
Ben's brilliance -
insurance
Self-taught, thence
Ben invents
bifocals
smart mogul.
Next project
he'd perfect
ladder chair
with step stair.
Millionaire
takes a dare
Kites and keys
lightning please.
A new hat
diplomat
Ben would dance
off to France.
Death's closed door
eighty-four
Famous men
admire Ben.
September 18, 2020
rewritten March 9, 2021
for contest: If I Were Famous..
sponsor:
Until the Darkness Returns
David J Walker
This is taking forever
Said the wall clock
as if annoyed by time
Stop watching the time clock
The stopwatch shouted ironically
Unable to control itself
Big Ben is the natural God of London
Announcing Himself on the hour
In a cartoon voice
Its Ragtime bragged the rags
covered in discarded motor oil
distinguished by a depth of bad breath
My digital watch cost a fortune
But could do nothing
About time
Wind me up before dawn
Turn me on
Until the darkness returns
"At the Third Stroke.
It will be four, four, and 40 seconds, precisely."
"At the Third Stroke.
It will be four, four, and 55 seconds, precisely."
Old timers like me can remember
when time was voiced on the telephone when you dialed '1984'.
To get the 'Speaking Clock'!
or were told the time in tolls of local church bells.
or the number of gongs of town hall clocks like 'Big Ben',
chimes on the hour, half or quarter.
When you could ring up on 'me old telephone' at
some ungodly hour in day or night,
and hear the recorded time precisely there and then.
When your grandfather's job
was to chime the time in the hall.
When God told you the time
with church bell gongs and rings.
Can you remember when you lost track of the
time, when you lost track of the count of number
of the chimes or of tolls of bells?
Less important perhaps
at midnight than midday,
but this had you reaching
for the 'Bakelite'
black telephone to
hear the time precisely,
"At the third stroke".
Or you could wait for the 'pips' on the hour,
the six short sounds on the radio,
still going strong after 90 long years.
pip, pip, pip, pip, pip, pip!
There 'tis some ungodly hour precisely!
Big Ben chimes again
With Bazball zen
One of those men
From special stock
Shepherd of the flock
Hewn from strewn Volcanic rock
From New Zealand's Southern Isle
But only there for a wee while
Mighty flame haired flair laird
Without doubt more about Blighty's North East
They forged this bellicose beast
Ripsnorting sporting cavorting squire
Glutton & gourmand gorged feast
Test town crier
Puffed buffed chest
Inspire..burning
Proper copper topper
Churning fire..
Endless zest..desire
No dull lull
No bore draw
Simple...aspire
To score more!
It's not arcane
Stokes campaign & reign
Train like you're insane
Always entertain!
Remember us flounder
In the gutter
Trounced...17 on the bounce
Could we have found
Pound for pounder
Better all rounder
Nutter...go getter
Sounder founder
Run rate record setter
Of the evolution
And revolution
Of Test cricket
Toe to toe
Blow by blow
Heave ho
Give us a ticket
In the Baz ball or
Ben buzz grotto
Gung Ho motto
You will never know
Till you give it a go!
The clock strikes twelve
On New Year's Eve
Bringing in a brand new year
Does this change the status quo
The answer's no I fear
Unless attitudes are changed
And politicians use of power
A striking clock, won't bring in change
No matter what the hour
Unless we are more caring
And share with one and other
The New Year won't bring in change
It will be the same as any other