Best Winston Poems
Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill
Never paid his overdue bill
His amazing memory no one could fight
Because a Shakespeare play he could recite
Entry for contest of Andrea Dietrich
A Clerihew
In the foggy isle of Britannia, many men have sought
Out fortune and fame.
But one man's legacy remains, as steadfast as the walls
Of parliament, a single voice echos, thunders across historical
Reference, and it's meaning sound is crystal clear, We shall
Never surrender, it has become this man's epitaph,
Behold the Prime Minster, Winston Churchill.
A stout figure head of reason, during a time
Of global madness, lighting the fuse of justice,
On an international stage.
Awakening the old sleeping lions fury, it's roars sounding,
Crashed as a tidal wave, against the walls of ignorance’s
Injustice.
The British cannon's announced their coming, these
Fighters champion for freedom, and liberty, we will
Fight them by land or sea, and emerge victorious,
This elder gentleman so did speak.
Harken young soldiers of the brave heart, our time is at hand,
Shall we not shake the fists of anger's vengeance at them.
For those whom hide beneath a blood stained flag,
A symbolic sign of purity, behold a nation's lie is exposed.
A stout figure head of reason, during a time
Of global madness, lighting the fuse of justice,
On an international stage.
Awakening the old sleeping lions fury, it's roars sounding,
Crashed as a tidal wave, against the walls of ignorance’s
Injustice.
The British cannon's announced their coming, these
Fighters champions for freedom, and liberty, we will
Fight them by land or sea, and emerge victorious,
This elder gentleman so did speak.
Harken young soldiers of the brave heart, our time is at hand,
Shall we not shake the fists of anger's vengeance at them,
Those hiding beneath a blood stained flag symbol of purity.
Hell's storm broke lose upon the distant land,
It's dark shroud blanket, relieved cruelties ugly offenses
Against humanity.
Did thus the world mourn their lost kindred, and the lion
Fell asleep once more, after shaking it's golden main free from,
The feathers of war.
In the annals of history, an old man sits beside a large lion,
Petting him until it rests at calms ease, lighting up a cigar,
Winston Churchill’s vision will not completely fade away,
For his words ring eternal, we shall never surrender.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Winston
Politician, Leader, Orator, Prisoner of War
Son of Lord Randolph and Jennie, husband of Clementine, father of five
Lover of cuban cigars, trenchcoats, and hats
Who feels love, compassion and righteous anger
Who fears defeat, failure, and Adolf Hitler's victory
Who would love to see the end of WWII, Hitler's downfall, and World Peace
Resident of Chartwell in Kent, South East London, England
Churchill
Writing Challenge 2 - Bio Form- January 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart aka "Broken Wings" (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and posted: 01/28/2019
Announcement to all Outer party members:
Thomas Woodward is dead. He is an unperson. You are to incinerate anything in your possession that might be contaminated with his DNA. All memories of him are to be forgotten.
It is rumored that some of you have been infected by his mentally deranged rants and poetry. More specifically, that a few pages from his personal journal may have been copied and passed among you. He was a madman, an agent of Goldstein. His confession of his many crimes was broadcast publicly, as you are all aware.
You have heard that he wrote: "Happiness is the freedom to say, to think, to be and to do whatever one wishes." Such untruths have long been exposed and denounced by the Party. "Individuality is the future," another untruth propagated by a filthy mind. The Party has long held that oppression is freedom, and that individuality is delusion. There is no I, only we. There is no individual, only the collective. To think independently is to promote chaos, anarchy. The collective mind promotes peace, unity. The Party must survive, therefore the Party must remain united. Again we say, oppression is freedom. By bringing every thought, dream and aspiration into captivity, thereby obliterating individuality, the Party member becomes part of the unified whole and is thus free to love Big Brother with all his mind, heart, and strength. To love and serve the Party in perfect obedience is the pinnacle of existence. It is the greatest of all freedoms.
Thomas Woodward is dead. He is an unperson. In fact, he never existed at all.
One further announcement: Victory gin rations are to be increased by fifty percent beginning tomorrow.
*artwork deviantart
Sir Winston Churchill
His wit and charm lives on still
Whiskey always touched his lips
For every morning he took a sip
----
5-29-15
Born in 1874 Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill
Nicknamed Winnie, with a Bulldog spirit ~ resembled my Bulldog Bill
In thinking time sat on his ‘Throne’, Lord Privy Seal rang Winston’s phone
Yelling his retort said, ‘Tell him I can only deal ~ with one s*** at a time’
22nd January 2019
Contest: Educate Me with Humour - Leader Clerihew
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
4th place
Sir Winston Churchill was a British writer, military leader and statesman. Twice named prime minister of the United Kingdom, he was known for his bulldog spirit and his rousing rhetoric; he also won the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature in 1953. Churchill became the first civilian in the 20th century to be given a state funeral, which is normally reserved for kings and queens only. For three days and three nights, Churchill lay in state in 900-year-old Westminster Hall as more than 300,000 mourners filed past the casket, hewn from English oaks taken from his family estate. Such was the country’s admiration for Churchill that Queen Elizabeth II broke with monarchical tradition to attend a funeral for someone outside of the royal family. Even more unusual, the queen gave precedence to one of her subjects and arrived at the cathedral before the former prime minister’s casket.
17th November 2020
Contest Name QUAT-RO your four line Contest
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
He stood there in the doorway
His legs dangled in white shorts
His blue shirt matching the rags
The mechanics used to clean tools
His fingertips yellow stained of fungus
I could barely see his blues eyes
Through the reddish brown colored
Replacing any hints of good health
Clutching a Winston banging on a sea burg
he juggled three scantily clad women
One hillbilly a blonde hick and this
black chick from Cleveland with no teeth
I hardly recognized him except for
he was still giving orders in this frailness
chanting cigarettes for everyone spare
no expense Marlboros Newport's Winston's
I never understood the urgency of nicotine
I watched him light the match pull on the filter
Release the smoke building his confidence up
It angered me I suppose watching him
Commit suicide tossing his cancer meds.
through all my pleading yelling screaming
he finally got it actually taking his medication
putting the trash out beating cancer in the end
closing the shop where his new identity begin
Julia, the thought police heard every word we’ve said.
There is a chopper near the window to chop off our head.
I believe we are just as good as dead.
There was a television screen hidden behind the picture on the wall.
Big brother was watching and listening to it all.
I can hear their heavy boots as they are coming up the stairs.
What about our inevitable fate? I don’t think any of them cares.
I should never have trusted O’Brien. We have been betrayed.
Yes, they caught us and will take us away, I’m afraid.
Based on the novel "1984" by the late George Orwell
That evening, my dad brought him home
He sniffed, and he wanted to roam.
With wrinkles, of brown and some white
Surely, he was quite a sad sight
We spoiled him, right from the start
To the upstairs, he sure would dart.
Over chairs, and under the beds
He ran fast, when we turned our heads.
An English bulldog, that you were
For your first name, began with Sir.
People feared him, when they would meet
He once dragged, me across our street.
One day, he had run down the hill
Chasing after him, took some skill.
Mom had used whitening, during his bath
He turned blue, and we all just laughed.
He loved sleeping, in his own drawer
Dad’s work hat, he so often wore.
The laundry, sometimes he had got
That would get mom, mad quite a lot.
To the building, on Friday nights
He would sit, and watch all the sights.
Protection, is why he would come
Just seeing him, would frighten some.
His own shadow, he feared at that
Cowering, when seeing a cat.
He would bark, and growl to look mean
It was always, the cutest thing.
We had loved him, right from the start
For he captured, many a heart.
His waddle, and curly-Q tail
Slowly, he became quite frail.
Mom had taken him, to the vet
Hoping his time, was not up yet.
For he had gotten, very sick
She was relieved, that he went quick.
A better place, we know he’s at
He’s probably wearing, someone’s hat.
We sure miss him, but know his fate
He’s in heaven, guarding God’s gate.
Churchill's appeal reflects a unique parentage
combining American and British heritage.
Winston Churchill, diplomat, lived with criticism,
Britain’s unstoppable prime minister showed
bulldog tenacity coupled with optimism.
His determination was revolutionary
His optimism looked beyond the problem.
Surrender was not in this man's vocabulary.
In his words, indecision leads to mayhem.
Arrogance accounts not for the hand of God.
Avoidance weakens a man's spirit.
Architect of victory in war we applaud.
"We make a living by what we get,” his quote
(but) we make a life by what we give." he wrote.
Winston has passed on...
She heard him rummaging, turning on taps
opening the fridge, you know, stuff like that
removing her coat, a black felt-like hat
she set the long table and stroked her sad cat
then calling out as he stomped upstairs
You know that snow has stopped out there?
idly listening to his suitcases click
life, she mused, is cruel, unseemly quick
You see he'd bought his doggie fresh meat
rarely would Winston receive such a treat
she vigorously scrambled eggs with soft butter
anxiously preparing a meal for their supper
their tea lightly milked before she'd reveal
she'd buried his dog in that far orchard field
buried him deep in a Hessian sack
buried him deep next to old Jack
Winston will never again play fetch
eat them damn apples **** dribble retch
how could she describe Winston's demise
how could she prevaricate confabulate lie
they'd constantly worried about it all going to far
those hoops that tunnel that damn see-saw
devilish chicanes coloured balls
Yet round and round he loved it all
so feckin happy before he finally expired
one more summer you know he'd be nearly retired
excessive exertions is what they would say
Vet said so, don't ya know last Wed-nes-day
now poor Winston would run no more
howl to get in before peeing on the floor
don't cry she sobbled it is for the best
but I felt such guilt I must also state this
before I smothered that big head in wet clay
I painted his death mask earlier today
Oh how he wept as he turned sad and broken
Winston's image, a poorly executed token
Churchill admired for his sharp wit,
a smoker, drinker, far from fit!
his stoop, his walk, his walking stick,
World doubted if his campaign would click?
he had vision, great leader must,
with which reduced Hitler to dust,
when cornered in a losing war,
he fought back and emerged a star!
despised though for his attitude,
was saved by wit often when rude,
“I would give poison, if your wife”
“I would drink it!” was his reply.
9th Place Premier contest
Clerihew poetry contest
Written 30/12/2020
Regina McIntosh sponsored
Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill
a Prime Minister with many a skill.
Though his ideals by some were not favoured,
his victories by many were savoured.
WINSTON CHURCHILL
A Commoner and not a lord,
He spent his life,
And round his bedside,
Stood only his children, and his wife.
His stroke was fatal,
At 8 am on the 24th day
Of January in the year 1965,
God paved his way.
A genius, an orator,
A husband loving and so mild,
A man who swayed the masses,
In fact “History’s Child”.
It’s too late to shatter the cold distance of silence with a ‘sorry’,
For I stand full of regrets ever since you became the elements,
Just one moment in time, that is all I need; that we breathe together,
And in that blessed precious beat of time –
I would build bridges and ladders across the worlds that part us,
I would blast the cavernous gloom of estrangement that swallowed our love,
And once again bring the basin of hot water to wash your feet,
While I listen to your endless repetitive stories of how you fought in the war,
And massage your back, and tuck you in bed and serve you tea come morning,
And choose to obey and understand your weaknesses,
For they were not really yours but mine in the making,
How I wish you were in this e-world of an i-age,
To show you those western movies that you were crazy for –
And download collections of Chase and L’amour and Wallace and Sheldon
And travel, and laugh, and pray, and eat,
And be your friend and not a judge on failure,
For the ravages of lack was a choice you took,
To be with her –
Yet I was not with you!
If I had brightened as light we would have not become dancing shadows,
I never cried over the casket that shelled you,
Today these tears welled up from a heart that is decades deep,
Wanting, Longing, Aching, Hurting, and Reaching.
Then those eyes came in my heart like a soft comfort -
Promising that somewhere in this vast expansion and harmony of spheres,
Forgiveness has come to teach me to forgive myself –
For -
You are love, you are scent, you are song, you are stillness, and you are Dad,
Your star tells me it’s never too late and to teach your grandchildren to love me.
Winston, you waged a good war in my heart and you have won!