Best Great Britain Poems
Government
Royal family, regal, royalties,
England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales are part of GB, Europe
Army, Air force, and Naval support
Treasures, tutoring, training
Buildings and gardens of significance
Rivers, rail and roads
Islands surrounded by sea
Territorial forces, tax tea and traffic
Archaeology, history unveiled and preserved
Industry
National pride, National Insurance, National Health Service
Beloved Great Britain
In background even if shade has become dim
The one who I pray to will always be Him
And asked God for a errorless, perfect plan;
He said start your computer and then scan.
Go over all of the things you should be doing
Name from list poets had been withdrawing
While politicians were placed in a big pile
After going through a period of denial.
That period of life is always approaching
So why with energy are you encroaching
Another's territory and side they were taking
And out of yourself complete fool was making.
Welcome to cruise and start to climb aboard;
May be absolutely last one you can afford
Make sure home they care for your kitten
When you have left for beloved Great Britain.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Jill and I are going on a Crown Princess cruise leaving out of Southampton, England going to Guernsey Island, Ireland, Scotland, Normandy and return. We will be spending three days in London and plan on visiting my poetry guru friend Terry Cooper who lives in Basildon, Essex if he doesn't mind and can stand me. We will also be visiting Stonehenge.
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/beloved_great_britain_658492#comments
For the first time in human history we are breaking free from religion,
have political systems that see us have a say,
and leaders we can challenge and remove from power,
that can and will be punished legally by law,
through our system of Rule by Law that no one is above or an exception to.
804 years ago in England,
25 men stood up to the King and demanded a say in how the country was run....... they had a dream..
The King or no one person should have ultimate power
and all men should be free.
When Britain leaves the EU,
we will be the first generation to realise and live that dream.
Leaders and politicians we vote for, serving us,
answering to us, and can be removed by us,
under a law to serve and protect us,
that we control and that no one person is above,
no forced, or munipulating religion,
no slavery in a time of peace.
all are free and free are all.
Millions of men and women died fighting centuries of war to get here,
where we have freedom,
the internet connection not working is the worst thing in our world.
We are living the dream, so be thankful,
Be thankful to live in the destination,
and only be the final part of the journey.
WE ARE LIVING THE DREAM.
Us Brits have one thing in common
there's no rich folk that we ever trust,
for they don't give a damn who they're hurting
while striving to fulfil their lust.
We've seen it with our Politicians
our Actors and Police Force as well.
While they spend, Britain sinks in depression
giving everyone else living hell.
It would seem Beer's the only solution,
though drinking it to great excess
puts more bloody tax in their pockets
and does nothing to sort out the mess.
Now I am a real peacefully person
but I'd happily pick up a gun
and murder the bent twisted bastards
who ruin our lives for their fun.
This also applies to the dozens
protected by our BBC,
Hidden by Police, and the Rich Folk,
who let child abusers roam free.
Just what has become of our nation
or as it been always the same.
No wonder we Brits' drown our sorrows
- being drunk is less reason for shame.
Ivor G Davies
Towers and showers
You fall then you rise
Making love to the clouds
It's mundane you despise
Let's cut to the chase
Keep our words short today
I'm proud of this city
Perhaps 'nice one' you'd say
I think you are awesome
In the day or the night
As the faces peer up
Or peek out to the sight
Of industrious city
Laced with tramways and cars
With it's heroes and humour
Or it's battle strewn scars
On the surface you're hard
Always up for a fight
Dig deeper.. discover
A heartbeat, you might
Whether homeless or minted
Perhaps just passing through
Our Mancunian spirit
Is now running through you.
Cupid loosed a love potion
laced arrow alas and alack
thy nineteen year young daughter
Shana Aubrey, smitten
with glassy eyed
and feverish amorousness
toward a English lad named Zak,
she feels sad, cuz
she iz to return back
to the United States
less than a month
(with my youngest sister Shari Todd,
and her other family members
of the Dunning claque
this papa, whose youth
and ungathered rosebuds inter alia
elapsed scores of years ago
n'er did find himself
as the fetching beau
asper any pretty young thang,
nar did I own
a handy dandy blues clue
how to appease biological call viz,
sowing wild oats
as pubescent time came due
shortchanging natural predilection
to gather rose buds at primal age
but took refuge within
a hermetically sealed cage
which complex emotional
edifice accessible equipage
then (and now) solely
in my possession,
yet needle, sans measuring gauge
now registers very low
sexual excitation on face dial image.
Though mine pre
pubescent young life bereft
shot thru being gun shy,
hence threadbare warp and weft
and as an emotionally troubled teen,
never livingsocial, left
a gaping figurative hole,
aye n'er didst
fabricate essential heft
tee warp and woof, upon
which adult inter
personal linkedin knit wit
get solidly stitched
instead an irreparable threadbare cleft
where tapestry remains unwoven
though more deft
nothing but cold embers left
nor apropos for this lix spit tilled
aged rooster, who can barely cluck
to romp in accordance
as a young buck
or squawk like a trumpeting
drake hula hooping duck
thus, twas glad and
breathed sigh of relief when,
thee punim summoned
verve and pluck
to chap up affinity to discover
visa vis unbridled passion
unlike this old man
with youthful romance,
he never didst truck!
Some placed in him their trust
Some thought he’d shine their light
He fooled the hearts of more than fools
He broke the strength of minds
We gave him the keys to our house
We placed in his hands our lives
Bending our minds to the lies of his truths
Trusting the words of media lies
He burned down our hopes and dreams
He killed something of Great Britain in British lives.
You'll shudder at the sight of the stone!
A massive boulder, still it was thrown,
Steven hitting forcing out a groan,
As though to pieces he had just been blown!
Steven to Great Britain has been flown
His hospital bill their Union's loan;
Pains from bruised scalp continually grown,
Damage suspected to cranial bone...
Not much about attacker is known;
He's amusedly called on the phone,
For apologies in wretch's tone.
So, what has pale dying Steven done,
Attackers play - acting not real fun?.