Best The English Poems


I Hate the English Language

A friend advised "Cheer up, buddy, and don't be blue",
strange of him to say that just when I was feeling low.
I was thinking, what was so colorful about being sad,
only showed his English vocabulary was awfully bad.

"Don't vote for Obama, he is untested and green",
how come, I wondered, when he clearly got black skin.
It can't be that he descended from leaves or something,
darn it, I'm linguistically challenged and confused again.

Down with a flu virus I was told to take plenty of orange,
that crazy doctor must really be kinda stupid or dense.
He couldn't have meant dyeing my few remaining hair,
unless that weirdo was moonlighting as a hairdresser.

Once, running scared from a fight, I was called yellow,
I did not get it, maybe because I'm a Chinese mestizo?
At home my amazon wife who learned about the run-in
promptly served for dinner a whole piece of chicken.

"Why chicken," I asked, "when you know I'm a vegetarian?"
"You earned it, sissy, when away from that fight you ran!"
"You're deep," I said, "I don't get what you mean, honey,"
to which she replied "Just finish your dinner, turkey!"

Hm, different colors, then chicken followed by a turkey,
I'd never understand these things until my dying day.
Damn that English language putting me in this mess,
better shift to Arabic, Tagalog, French or Cantonese.

The English Teacher

You are a metaphor in motion,a symphony conducted by the beating of my heart.
You entrance my soul,and it makes me a better person to love you. 
You are a simile surrounded by color themes, you shine. 
My rhetorical answer when i repremand my self with rhetorical questions. 
My analogy in a analytical essay composed by your kisses. 
Holding something so precious as a diamond in a rough,i am caught in you. 
Nothing as lovely as knowing you are with me always and forever. 
Holding my soul in your stare.
I love us,we,you loving me. 
You are verbs in action,followed by nouns and adjectives. 
You are every onomatopoeia i want to hear after leaving your touch. 
We are auditory imagery bound in conversations about life and love. 
You are the predicate and adverb to my declarative sentences. 
My english teacher in the language of love.
Form:

Premium Member The English Language Ain'T Easy

If you think the English language is easy to speak, 
Perhaps you have a thing, or two, to learn. 
You might say “axed” when you mean “asked” 
When is it appropriate to say “dang,” “darn,” or “durn?” 

“Advice” or “advise,” ”accept” or “except,” --a curse 
Tempted to use “illicit” when you mean “elicit?” 
Misusing “averse” when you mean “adverse?” 
If you are not careful, you will completely botch it. 

“Farther” and “further” are especially difficult: 
One describes distance, the other quantity, or degree, 
“Hanged” or “hung” present similar predicaments, 
In both cases one word should do, but don’t “axe” me. 

Who knew “ingenious” and “ingenuous” aren’t the same, 
And few folks get “nauseous” and “nauseated” right. 
Do you have “relatives” or “relations” or “relationships?” 
If you want to quote an authority, do you use “site” or “cite”? 

What is the difference between “already” and “all ready?” 
Which one is correct “could care less” or “couldn’t care less? 
Not to mention when you use “altogether” or “all together,” 
Is it “there’s” “theirs,” “they’re”, its or it’s --what a mess! 

“Continual” or “continuous,” and “fewer” or “less,”  
“Conscience” and “conscious” lead some folks astray. 
Are you “enthused” or “enthusiastic,” “infer” or “imply? 
I hesitate to bring up the inevitable “can” or “may!” 

So, “them” or “those” foreigners should learn "our tongue;" 
It’ll make life simpler, “to,” “two” or “too,” for everyone. 
“Who” or “whom?” -- please, let’s give these folks a break  
Because English is not so easy, when all is said and done!
Form: Didactic


The English Teacher

I have taught many subjects to many people in my career.
Whether I was teaching first year engineers to write an essay,
or bored sixth-graders the difference between composite and prime,
I never once doubted my abilities as a teacher.

I was passionate, caring, easy to understand, and always got my point across.
Or so I thought—
I learned otherwise one quiet afternoon in a village in Morocco.

I silently watched as my husband’s sister, to whom I had been teaching English,
repeatedly chanted “good night” to my dog, while waiting expectantly for her to “sit”.

My dog cocked her head to the side, in that way that only dogs can, with a sly grin on her face,
and if she could speak, I’m sure she would make a quip about not being sleepy.

I continued to watch without a word, I was speechless really,
and hoped for the sake of my career that my dog would get tired and sit.
© Theresa T  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The English Gent

There was a gentleman from England
Who boasted how his land was so grand
Big Ben, Scotland Yard
The Changing of the Guard
It's too bad all the food is so bland!
Form: Limerick

The English Language

Only read this if you have a good understanding of the English language, because it is all about how word spellings differ but for no particular reason.

This write is quite right in that it highlights the height and weight of the great language of English which is no sandwich and not straight forward mate.

(This right is qite wright in that it highlites the hight and waight of the greight langwich of English witch is no sanduage and not strate forward meight.)

We now know that "K" has special powers but not with knot or knock.

(We now K-now that "k" has special powers but not with not or nock.)

And people say Nike-y but they don't ride a bikey, so it's Nike like Mike.

(and people say Nikey but they don't ride a bikey, so it's NIKe LIKE MIKE, or mic.)

While they're unable to get their head around there,
they sit in a chair and stare like a bear, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where near, but like fare which is also like bare.

(While there unable to get they're head around their,
they sit in a chere and stair like a bere, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where nare, but like fair which is also bere.)

Far away cars on Mars are not said like wars, which for sure is more like bore and I'm assured that board is different to ward.

Warlords have been found to have had people drowned, not dround as it could sound, as the power of their throne has grown to fit their waist and they do not waste their God placed authority or make the mistake that the steak with cheese one grates quakes.

On the whole my soul is on a roll to score a goal with this write, because though words are spelt a different way they are spelt the same when these words we say.

I think I'm done and I've won like the Holy Son, or am shining wholly like the light from the sun.

And to think I had special needs, was labelled dyslexic and had ADHD, oh and as well as that I failed my English exam, twice.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


The English Couple

The English Couple
They had a dream the old couple who came
to our hamlet, their dream was a tiny house 
painted white and blue. A kitchen garden they 
had, lettuce and tomatoes, carrots too, and
the gods smiled upon them, but not for long. 
She got bad knees could not bend down,
he had back problem could no longer play golf
or tinker with his car;  their garden became 
a jungle, where weed strangled useful plants. 
back to their own country they flew said to
come back soon, when wellbeing got better.
He died first in his sleep, she followed him into
eternity a month later. Their dream had been 
so modest, white and blue
Form: Epitaph

The English Hedgerow

By lane and path the English hedgerow,
In which so many wild things grow,
For centuries has crossed the land –
A world of nature, close at hand.

In Spring the blackthorn's cloaked in snow,
Its pure white blossoms first to show.
Warm breezes waft them to and fro,
Then Autumn brings the jet black sloe.

The blackbird, chaffinch, dunnock, wren,
Oft hidden from the sight of men,
All prosper in this habitat,
So suited to its purpose, that
A bountiful harvest supplies their needs,
With insects, hips, haws, sweet berries and seeds.
© Mike Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Keswick In the English Lakes

A picture postcard for all to see
sits down in the valley to view
a small market town among the lakes
real beauty spot always form a queue

Hill walkers come from near and far
make it their base before they trek
it's at base of lovely Derwent Water
where you can sail around it's neck

So many beautiful fells surround it
Blencathra, Catbells, Helvelyn and Skiddaw
these only a few of it's beauty spots
many an artist paint what they saw

Many years ago living nearby
poetic gems penned by Wordsworth
drew poetic word pictures so fine
encaptured many hearts across the earth

Such a place of quietness and peace
enjoy a coffee and cake reading a book
so many eating places to choose
or make a picnic by lakeside brook

There's also a theatre by the lake
go and see a musical or a play
lovely gardens with flowers nearby
sit among it's beauty to spend your day

Here indeed is God's picture book
showing His creation on display
what a picture what a photograph
full of colour no sight of any grey
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Rolling the English Premiere Credits

Boys turned into men 
Acting chivalry needing to defend 
Thackray who never was 
Due to the wasp woman wanting buzz 
Gunners waited for Watford to arrive 
“Foul!” they did claim in a cry 
On target goal after the penalty try 
Followed by one then another
Sunday’s mother 
Agree those went in 
Later on Arsenal committed an innocent sin 
Deeny connected 
Shot was not protected 
Three one at the break 
Story brewing about the yellow jacket relegation wake 
Being well back 
Singing stingers put together an attack 
Calling upon Danny to give a whack 
A nice song he did bellow 
Not enough to save the hives, dear fellow 
For the longest time 
In her own mind 
Mrs. Harris 
Just home from Paris 
Thackray did not cause any trouble
There was no reason to blow any bubbles 
As time ticked away 
Grealish earned his claret blue army pay 
Slicking it through the post 
Mrs. Harris a few seconds later returned the gesture with a kind toast 
A draw 
Was the call 
And Aston’s Villa would not be sold 
Since they did not fold 
“Send down the Honey Cherry Buzz flavor” 
Second tier league requested as a favor 
Mr. Bourne with toffee candy in the mouth 
His cherries ready to head south 
But today he enjoyed a sweet victory taste 
Wasn’t showing ill feelings or haste 
Instead filled with Goodison’s grace 
Citizens on the other hand made the canaries look like nothing 
Man City netting five which was something 
Four sixes were on the executive level table 
Two were issued to pensioners writing a Chelsea fable 
While the Red Devils had a pair 
Enough to scare 
That pesky fox 
Now having respectable stock 
“Worry about a single commitment next year 
And enjoy that cheer” 
Was the message 
About priority addressing 
As for Thackray, the west ham 
Romantically united Mrs. Harris succeeded in her plan 
Next time a gale force winds come through 
Infecting play asking ‘what are you gonna do?” 
Do not put the season in the hearses 
Just be sporty write creative poetic rhyming verses 

The End
Form: Rhyme

The English Channel

Addressing a student looking in the air
The teacher asked, "The English Channel is where?"
He said, "Well let's see..."
"I do watch TV,"
"But I haven't heard of that channel on there!"
© Pat Adams  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

The English Maiden and the Exiled Prince

In a castle far, far away,
An English maiden lived astray,
She’s as beautiful as the month of May,
Where flower blooms, day to day.

Outside the kingdom, there rests,
An exiled prince at every one’s detest,
A failure of his legacy and bequest,
In agony, in gloom, his fierceness suppressed.

An evil wizard captured the maiden,
In the carriage he tied her laden,
In the haunted forest he laid her hidden,
Where no man can enter and passage forbidden.

Town’s folk asked the exiled prince,
To rescue the maiden, they convince,
“Your Highness let your wrath evince,
Save the maiden, Oh mighty prince.”

The prince marched to the forest
Armed with sword, with armor and vest,
He searched every corner, every stone, unrest,
To look for the fair maiden, the beat of his chest.

A huge wolf with fiery eyes,
Attacked the prince with all its might,
He drew the sword and put up a fight,
And beheaded the wolf with a strike.

The evil wizard then cast a spell,
Of burning fires from the mouth of hell,
The prince’s armor bounced it back, expel
The wizard dropped death knell.

Towards the maiden, the prince rush
He wipes her tears with a plush,
With his fingers, her hair he brushed,
 “ Cry no more, my love, hush.”

He pulls the maiden close to his chest,
Where her face lays at rest,
With his loving arms he caress,
The lovely maiden in distress.

“From now on,” the prince swear
“You’re safe in my arms, anytime, anywhere,
I will let no harm, come to you I assure,
My sweet muse, you are secured.”

With his honor the prince avow
To love the maiden ‘til eternity and now,
Heartache and hurts, he will not allow,
To the touch the maiden, his sacred vow.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Honoring the English Wombles

Don’t wake him up yet! Shansi said with a snicker.
Orinoco needs his sleep, for his soft-hearted ticker!
So Great Uncle Bulgaria gave Orinoco fifteen minutes more.
But then you have to leave for school, he said. Right out the door!

Miss Adelaide will be waiting, and you know she is fine.
This school mistress wanted the Wombles there in good time.
Tobermory had to fix Bungo’s bike before they could leave.
Bungo had a fine idea to put on a weird new blowing sleeve.

Tomsk was raring to go, he loves to drive through the woods.
Yazz told them to wait up, she had to primp up her girly goods.
Wellington lagged a bit, for he has such a scientific mind.
He stops along the way to gather everything that he can find.
Form: Rhyme

The Clouds Above Nova Scotia Will One Day Become Rain In the English Streets I Roam

the clouds above nova scotia
will one day become rain in the english streets i roam

the bombs dropped in foreign lands
will one day fall on all our hopes and homes

the bullets that end lives so abruptly
will one day silence us all

The English Gent

An English gent, if you can find a real one
Is the sort of chap that’s never agitated
He will stand his ground amid the fiercest battle
Resolute, until the fighting has abated
An English gent is never ever flustered
But there’s one thing that always makes him wild
His spotted dick must only come with custard
The kind he had when he was still a child
The English gent will rally when the call comes
Will die just to defend the greater good
March off to the beating of the war drums
Just as long as you serve custard with his pud
© John Fenn  Create an image from this poem.

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