Canterbury Poems - Poems about Canterbury

These are modern English translations of poems written in Middle English by Geoffrey Chaucer. The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue by Geoffrey Chaucer translation by Michael R. Burch When April with her sweet showers has pierced the drought of March to the root, bathing the vines’ veins in such nectar that even sweeter flowers are engendered; and when the West Wind with his...

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Canterbury So long ago, St Martyrs Field Road was there my home There is the huge Martyrs monument of witch burning, oh Forty-three names on the stone, mine will be the new one I am the forty-fourth, yes, very famous my life of witchcraft So many times I watched from my room’s window this monument I had an ominous feeling, always,...

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canterbury bells so delicate and pleasant white, blue, lavender …...

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- Readers, I hope you forgive me. I’m retracting some words I once said: I'd planned to write just five of these tales But I've added a sixth tale instead.. Night The preacher was searching for Duchess Also known as 'The Tabard Inn Cat'. Scared by the storm she'd run out of the inn And knocked over his drink where he sat. That event...

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The west winds of springtime Brought forth April showers That rained on the pavements Of Southwick for hours. It was standing room only And full to the brim As people sought shelter At the old Tabard Inn. A man with a top hat Sat staring in space. There was illness and sadness Etched...

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For the benefit of any non-Middle-English speakers, a literal, word-for-word translation has been provided beneath each line of the original: Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote! When we've already had enough! of April showers Whan priketh hem Governeur in oure corages Our prick of a governor locks us down in our garages Than longen folk to goon on...

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If I had time enough to climb this Everest of rhythmic rhyme, I’d find my mind is wandering, meandering through desert clime. Each ancient word seems so absurd, countless of which I’ve never heard. The ear may hear, though wondering and pondering what just occurred. If days had space to ever trace such epic poems of our race, long hours of ours lost squandering time, blundering...

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Escape rondel/roundel by Geoffrey Chaucer translation by Michael R. Burch Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat, I never plan to be in his prison lean; Since I am free, I count it not a bean. He may question me and counter this and that; I care not: I will answer just as I mean. Since I’m escaped from Love and...

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Three Roundels by Geoffrey Chaucer I. Merciles Beaute ("Merciless Beauty") by Geoffrey Chaucer translation by Michael R. Burch Your eyes slay me suddenly; their beauty I cannot sustain, they wound me so, through my heart keen. Unless your words heal me hastily, my heart's wound will remain green; for your eyes slay me suddenly; their beauty I cannot sustain. By all truth, I tell you faithfully that...

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When we retired we were so inspired: To live free and rest from our labors. This mobile home park has lived up to the mark, But oh, goodness gracious, the neighbors. Jay the old peeper can snoop through the creeper And tell if the ladies are bathing. At times he's been caught and the women have taught him new curse words in...

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“An Addition to The Canterbury Tales” By Nicholas Giro There was also a CANDYMAN, a fine seller of his trade, Who went along the countryside selling the candies he made. He was a portly, jolly, and merry fellow Who always wore red and blue, avoiding the color yellow. With his short and spiky hair that was painted with smoke, Many-a-child he did...

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Canterbury Cathedral Cant Cold silence On that stony floor No man or woman walks where he was killed brother of your heart Murdered by your careless slip of speech-- rash threat Uttered by you-- brother of blood since childhood Lifelong friend, Harry, king -- raged a childish rage brought your world crashing murder plots by wife and children you had no will to resist...

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Write their names in better than the dark mud Where they died; their life like the wasted sud Of washed out things; they were the soldiers of the village The warriors of a hidden war They saved us from plunder and pillage And wore with honor their stigma and scar We had the worst address...

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I saw Possu And we stood beside the old Calvary church Where the banks now run their business From the old house of God Two old men out of a place stitched with poverty Remembering the patches And how our noble heroes died Before the slander of the state Before the river of bullets rose in spate Of lies, since their demise cover...

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I use to hike through Flankers’ un-cobbled street With easel and canvas hawking my mind Sketching the apiary’s tenement Dull gray boxes densely scattered ...

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