London Poems | Examples of London Poetry

A 22 hour trip home from London…gave us time to sit back, smile and unwind and think about all the memories we made…while still fresh within our minds. Yes, we saw London and Paris with our family…fell in love with England and with France. and yes, we ate our way across two countries…and Deborah even bought a pair...

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Through fog, on the London Bridge, I saw an image so forlorn - upon a pike, a traitor's head. The span it would adorn. While I understand the appeal of a well-weathered head, wouldn't Christmas lights have been a better choice instead?...

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London, a great house standing by a long water, bathed by a golden sun behind the closed doors of the eastern clouds that send stuttering rains even on the hearth of summer to salute all that pass the kennels of the city once they have legitimate travel passes that will elevate them high enough to see the Big Ben - a timely invention chiming and tolling, to remind us of our immigrating...

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Up today at 5:00 A. M….this was not by chance… We had to get up that to catch the 7:30 train to France. Paris to be exact…so with our packed suitcases in hand… we headed off to Paris…just as our Ooh La La tour guide planned. A note about Ooh La La Tours… When Bryan was planning the Paris part...

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After I woke up and went out to our little balcony to write… a ladybug landed on my computer and decided there to stay As she traversed the perimeter of my computer… I knew it was going to be great day We took the tube to Buckingham Palace…where more history was unlocked. We strode the rooms and hallways where kings...

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When asked, 'If the orchestra conductor had made an effort more concerted not to miss the concert and a sordid scene averted, would he have been less disconcerted?' "Don’t ask me, I’m only the drummer," replied I in chagrin. And, altho' the name of my favourite band is the one I am currently in, I do like the sound of the moniker, 'Big Ben,' it's...

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Jews are aliens we return to mother ship relax wine and feast ...

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After 22 hours in planes and a ride on the London tube our adventure in England had begun… We met Bryan, Ali and Ava at our hotel…then it was off to have some fun. To fend off any jet lag…we didn’t rest…we got going quick… stopping for some French Pastry…which, by golly, did the trick. Next it was off to...

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Every day we’re making memories…we’re out in the world having fun… and every day, if I am lucky, I write a few lines about one… But with our suitcases and passports packed…and armed with Google translator For the next 10 days we’ll be making so many memories… I’ll have to write abut them later. We are celebrating Ava’s graduation Making memories...

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a bobble hat fellow rumbles along sharp turns behind me - hello - but reaches up to the wall grabs an apple 80 percent intact and hobbles away again a few seconds later he's back again turns behind me, bends low and picks up the soggy, abandoned box of donuts two inside remaining successful mission he wobbles away...

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Thought I heard a bluebird sing somewhere over the rainbow I was wrong 'twas but a song playing away there on the radio bought a garland and some gum for Frances the girl next door sadly due to a bad accident in London the unfortunate lady is here no more studio moguls and public pressures to their shame were to blame no doubt but the...

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Look, London ladies, buff your speech Mind your soiled plantation fingers Nary a trace of our old worlds Occupy their halls royally Porcelain cups poised on pinkies...

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Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory, Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea. Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit; Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence. Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together! Like allurng, violet future,...

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Lost in Shade I am a blur in the mosaic, painted, not placed a borrowed hue in a gallery of dream and machines. Voices whirl like prayer wheels spun too fast, each syllable a wind that forgets my name. Skyscrapers bloom like cold steel flowers, rootless, like me, fed by wires, not soil. I chase the scent of home...

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In 1773 the sun never set on the British Empire so goes the story now the 'Teatime Islands' crumbs of Great Britain’s former glory but as the moon rose over the White Cliffs of Dover standing guard at the Gateway to England ramparts the enemy to forestall if the ravens left the Tower of London the kingdom itself then would fall and Britain would...

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