Long Britain Poems
Long Britain Poems. Below are the most popular long Britain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Britain poems by poem length and keyword.
My father fought in China and India as well,
my brothers served their country when Northern Ireland was in Hell,
I spent years in Malayasia when conflict then arrived
and of our troops who went to fight not everyone survived.
The breakup of the Empire, though fraught with strife and war,
meant that Britain as a nation tried to help others when it saw
that for others independence they may need our lads to fight
and to help put things in order when they faced their darkest night.
For truly independence is worth us fighting for,
although for many centuries Britain had to go to war,
but when we were all certain that our Britain earned its ‘Great’
our bloody politicians led us to another fate!
They decided that as one we’d join with Europe’s open door
forgetting all the British who had fought in every war
to gain our peoples freedom so we could rule our own land
and they just gave away our hard earned rule, why I don’t understand?
They spout we’re Europeans and we gain a lot I’m told
by giving Europe money and the right for them to hold
the final say on anything that we had made our law
with rules and regulations that no Britain voted for!
Great Britain is a country that has fought to remain free
where its people have the freedom that was bought by history,
at the cost of many people who died to make our land
a place where every person can decide just how they stand.
But now we’ve got another chance, to take back what we hold dear,
and on Thursday we can vote to claim the rights we fought for here,
Great Britain ruled by Europe?
of this there is no doubt, we didn’t vote to get us in………. so vote to get us Out!
Ivor G Davies
it twas evereth the 14th
and ladle had stilled consequence
perceptive decorum and froth's
constable would, could naught
cold heart and battled fart
bequeath to thee
a brothersome free
door and locksey
leashed a board in mercy
a wait, as bait, beside boyhood fate
to undress against
shallowed peasant
four returned to Ireland
bedside and tired
blankets paging in grass
ant's weary temperment at gas
a home a key
a star left he
the all might and his coward
to run the knights
round to Britain
i and i only minors scribes
have told in telling
of poor bottoms swelling
I'm the cells cavern
An orchestrated advance
The corridor the call
The snip the fall
Interior design in might
Out of castled walls flight
Terror in known streets
Publication and ceremony in defeat
They will have had we Rome
And no thing at door
Battle as framers wools
The third wall of a fine ants parish
Forward the Chinese admiral
The lying newspapers
To vote in Britain is a strange affair
since it is class-based, every class only read
what is of their interest,
doing the best to denigrate the enemies party leaders
but since the owners of newspapers are usually
right-wing the conservative party often wins.
There is an exception the Guardian can at time
the sound left-wing, but then they get cold feet and join
the shrieking of the right.
The popular press also called the gutter press destroy
peoples reputation, say “Corburn” an excellent politician
belonging to the left of the labour party.
What is scary is that working/class readers get influenced
by the constant lies and vote for a party
that is no good for them and the country.
This comes down to lack of education not being able
to read between the line and think independently.
A busy Friday afternoon
Exploding plane, but not an exploding cigar, as days of fun have long since gone.
The Byzantine Empire never left Russia, either that or they were incapable of keeping secrets, and sober leaders
like Putin, appear to be a rarity.
Trump the chomp, has had his mug- shot taken he didn't look pleased, and we agree, it is not the done thing to treat a president this way piling on humiliations like it was confetti, but I think Trump should avoid flying until
We win the election again, the American voters are mad enough to let this happen.
Britain has got the Italian illness, changing prime minsters every so often and scandals are for all to see
A female MP, they try to fire and that ain't easy for the lady is no other than Nadine Dorries, who is very famous if not in the House of Commons, she stays away but get to keep the pay.
A man, a famous talk host, has died, his son tells us his father was suffering from “impostor syndrome, I know I have waited eighty years for the tap on my shoulder and someone telling me to go, return to the slum I came from, I think, a hazard worth paying for a better life like your own bedroom and to sit on a loo no other bums have sat on before.
Lunch this Friday was a long affair, the cafe was full and we waited a long time, I didn't mind, and observed
the Brazilian woman who is ten years older than her husband scolding her eighteen-year-old son, I hoped she didn't speak to her husband in this manner, he might think of his mother, which cannot be good for the sex life.
Young Ali Abass
He lain in a Baghdad hospital,
They said he had no hope.
Maimed and lost his family,
How did that young lad cope?
Torn apart by warfare,
So-called freedom for Iraq.
Try telling that to young Ali Abass,
He can't have his family back.
In an allied attack he lost his arms,
Lost his brother, his mum and his dad.
He had burns all over his torso,
So much pain for an innocent lad.
And yet that brave boy bears no grudges,
New arms though prosthetic they be.
He came to Great Britain to get them,
The joy on his face plain to see.
I'm sorry young man, for the hurt and the pain,
For the loss of your family too.
If only we could turn back time,
This would never have happened to you.
Queen Elizabeth the Second passed
leaving the World in a mournful state.
How can this be--one who's so steadfast.
She tempered Britain's every fate.
Barely a bride on her honeymoon,
she learned her father, the King, had died.
Her life changed, becoming Queen so soon,
honeymoon left, that life set aside.
For seventy years, she was the Queen,
and a sister, daughter, mum, and wife.
Amazing what this lady would mean
to post-war Britain's foothold on life.
She guided with her feminine hands
never shirked her nation's duty call.
Tiny monarch ruling many lands.
She rose to be one-hundred feet tall!
September 8, 2022
A Strange Man from a Far Distant Star.
A strange man from a far distant star;
Comes to teach us, to show us the future.
To show us a new direction, a new path to follow;
To stop us becoming, our own killer.
The future is orange, in this ungodly land;
The fire burns brightly, for this galactic traveller.
We must all learn, how to understand;
The message he left, which could change our future.
We must help him return, to the planet he left;
To let him show us the things, that are buried in our heads.
This psychedelic spaceman, with his orange platform boots;
Travelled to the moon and beyond, fighting aliens and fixing robots.
His special silver suit and his shades made him cool;
He's got some moon dust for his baby
And a piece of rock from Mars for her school.
Untouched land, heading back to his land.
From a forgotten traveler; from a psychedelic spaceman.
From the strangest of strangers, here comes the man from Obsidium,
With his tin pot space rocket, which runs on petroleum.
The spaceman's here, to show us the way;
To travel the stars, using his galactic space map.
One step for mankind, that was taken by a monkey;
Has let him take us to the stars, but he's never coming back.
This journey is one way, the destination is Obsidium;
He will bring us into contact with his peers and all sorts of aliens.
We can bounce on the moon, with a lack of gravity;
Finding new alien species, on the volcanoes of Mars.
This adventure will be joyous, with occasional tragedy;
But our mission will lead us, to travel to new stars.
The first question he asked was who will win the Human race?
And do you think Linford Christie, would win Britain first place?
Or would a pioneer win it, so they could claim it?
Like they claimed the native America; I guess they'd just steal it.
Then he said "Come with me and I'll open your minds;
Show you Jupiter, Venus and Pluto’s endless mines.
We can leave this place called Earth and explore a new galaxy;
We can race a shooting star, we can do anything.
But you must give up this life that you take for granted
And beam up with me, into my funky spaceship.”
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Here I am standing on the milky way hoping that someone would come my way, I have been here for a thousand years with millions of stars stuffed up into my guts and the solar system with is unwinding rhythm orbiting the galaxy in the center of the mass and the dark matter is running around the town in a brand-new set of gowns.
Where they come from, I don’t know, but they are about to start a brand-new show; they are wearing alien skirts and blouse made out of purified dirt.
I see them coming in droves they are parachuting through the clouds, they are acting as if they have no feeling, and they are coming at a speed that will smash up your zeal and turn the planet into ashes and dirt.
The planet is running around with the sun and the mission is not yet done you have to go back in space and tie up the loose ends that are hanging from the heavens; they are three thousand light years away and they cannot connect with the beam to release the clogged-up steam.
The galaxies is sending a message to you, you must organize another mission in the sky to find the point before the beam dies; it will plunge the earth into darkness for a thousand years and the plants would die, and nothing will pass through the sky.
The galaxy is of three main types, and you have got to separate the spirals galaxy from the irregular's galaxy and the elliptical galaxy before the universe move.
You have to arrange another trip with Russia, Japan, China, India and America with Britain and Germany at the tip. You have to examine what is going on up there because I am seeing some strange image that is causing me to fear, is it digital manipulation or is its political frustration, whatever it is, it frightens every living creature to its core, and you have to keep asking for more.
Touch me if you can see me, touch me if you feel me. I don’t have to see the movement of your hands; I only have to feel the courage in your soul and the fire from the sun engraved in the center of your hand.
It can scan through any door and take you to the upper floor, this is my latest invention, and it can take me straight up to the sky without a nickel or dime.
Touch me if you can feel me, touch me and pass the energy around, touch me with the tip of your fingers and your long-awaited dreams will come through; just touch me and the universe will open the big door for you.
Six months since Christmas and people are down
Trudging through life with a full facial frown
Back in December we hoped it would snow
But not a flake settled, well wouldn’t you know
I remember thinking if it can’t be white
Let’s have a Christmas that’s sunny and bright
Move that joyous season to balmy July
For Boxing Day sunbathing when we can fry
Those Aussies have had it too good for too long
To them a white Christmas would simply be wrong
A dull, cloudy Christmas is Christmas gone flat
But a Bognor like Bondi… I’ll have some of that
If Christmas in Britain was moved to July
We’d leave out ice cream for when Santa comes by
But no doubt we Brits would find cause to complain
It’s July in Britain… it’s still bound to rain
9 July 2022
Contest: Christmas In July
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Rhyme Checked by… ensuring words sound the same ;-)
The tempting thought I just could not dismiss
To share with you one surreptitious kiss.
A brief, flirtatious moment of delight,
Snatched furtively and hidden out of sight.
The red umbrella camouflaged all shame
As if accomplice to our fickle game.
But passion soon subsided, like the rain
And guilty eyes could not engage again. *
You left me standing there and it was clear
That we could not betray those we held dear.
I gazed into the scarlet dome above
Ashamed that I had risked true, steadfast love.
And looking down, my faithful dog sat there.
His saddened gaze was more than I could bear.
I led him home resolved upon that day,
No more to linger in temptation’s sway.
Then, one by one the features disappeared,
I glanced outside, the stormy skies had cleared.
'Ah, there you are, I thought I'd find you here,
The gallery is closing soon, my dear!'
A painting, like a poem can inspire
Rekindling the imagination’s fire.
And both may leave a message in their trail,
For contemplative spirits to unveil.
31/10/18
‘The red umbrella poetry contest‘ - Sponsored by: Eve Roper
* Please note that in Britain and according to the Oxford dictionary, two versions of the pronunciation of 'again' are permitted and commonly in use.
One rhymes with 'men' and one with ' rain'.I have used the second version here.
Audio version at : https://dictionary.cambridge.org/pronunciation/english/again