Best Westminster Poems
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I was down in Westminster the other night
and there I saw a most horrible sight.
I thought I saw a man without a head.
Cromwell? I asked, or a king long dead?
I then saw a dame with a horrid lurid glance,
not quite the sort you'd be asking for a dance.
If not Maggy, then who could it be?
I'm very sorry, mate. It's no use asking me,
Three weird sisters were there discussing Brexit.
One said leave it, and another tried to hex it.
What did I witness? Was this the 'monster mash,'
or just politicians as they made an awful hash?
A lanky hooded figure invited me in
with a croaky voice and a sinister grin.
My entry would be easy; of that I had no doubt,
but the problem would then have been: how to get out.
Was it all that talk of a 'backdrop'
that made me hesitate?
When I got back home eventually,
it was very, very late.
we honor our Queen
in Westminster, tears and grief
her crown, not her end
9/16/2022
~3~
Earth has not anything to show more dread or drear
And reckless would he be of soul to venture by
A tragic scene gut-wrenching in its travesty
This city now doth fully its mourning weeds wear
From a shocking afternoon filled with siren blare
Open to violent threats,aimed to terrify
Kids,tourists,passers-by,police and medics cry
In defiance,not broken in the pain soaked air
Never did the sun more glaringly drench and steep,
With her lancing rays, face,window or reflection
Ne'er saw I,never ever felt trauma so deep
River flowing by,blind to this vile aggression
Good God!The very House was locked in nightmarish sleep,
All that mighty city then and there racked with tension.
Westminster Abbey,
With all its doors,
Welcomes all,
As church bells implore:
Come now England,
And praise thy Lord,
Drop thy shield,
And sheath thy sword,
So that two hands can pray,
Against discord.
Inside, the pastor guides his flock,
He alone dares cast the rock:
Now, turn thine eyes upon the dead,
And saintly deeds respect,
So that St. Peter at the gates,
Your soul redeems, as he inspects,
Thy actions for misdeeds.
Then thou shalt remember,
The beadman at the door,
Telling his rosary, as to implore:
'Can I stay this cold,cold, night,
And rest in thy corridor?'
Then you'd think,
Not twice, but once,
About thy words, and jests, and jaunts,
Against his prescense on thy step,
Before thy Fell,
or rather, leapt.
Westminster Abbey
if only it could speak
ah... the stories
Having a wish to wake up very early;
At the time, when people get up barely
When the entire London will sleep,
And through the window I will peep.
I will get out for a walk gently
And also feel the magical dawn deeply.
After crossing few miles, with the pleasant feeling of breeze,-
Oh!at last I will reach the Westminster Bridge.
Ah!then what joyance will rain upon me;
Noone will be there to take share of my glee.
Gradually, the Sun will rise and brighten the surrounding,
With the first ray, the River Thames will be glowing.
The thriving city will start its regular journey,
But there I will dawdle, because I will be free;-
The serenity of Thames will make me energetic,
And help me forget the adventures which are sardonic.
At the end of the day, my feelings will be frail;
It will be thrilling, if I hear the Big Ben's bell.
Now I am so far away, but I promise
To make my dream true at Westminster Bridge.