Thames Poems - Poems about Thames

I was Number One who fell for Jazz, Other Genres ranking Razzmatazz No finer sacrifice in Hard Rock; If you demeaned Jazz, my gun I’d cock… I laud the Great Lot Yanni’s Jazz has; Bob’s keyboard that conveys one to Mars: Waiting for me sweet complexity, The path to it A Perplexity! Rhythms from Experimental Minds: Their demands The Gifted Player finds… Rather American...

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It was thought the young whale was pregnant confused as she was and out of her depth. They waded into the river to help, floated rubber rafts to buoy her up. Marine experts posited ways to keep her breathing in shallow waters. In dockyard pubs hard men openly spoke of her plight, voices low and humorless as they test-drove new technical jargon. When she died; rolling...

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just dots upon the greenwich sky swinging london from the air with eyes wide shut and riding high across the thames 'where tourists dare'....

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On the outer edge of Kemble there’s a stone upon the green where a spring becomes a trickle in a pond. It seeps and then it flows under bridges as a stream towards the narrowboats of Lechlade and beyond. There is peace and so much beauty from The Isis* to The Thames winding dreams around the spires along its course. It flows on through...

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November's winter sun is bleeding low where cold Thames makes a tidal run and also gentler pewter flow towards the city docks, the sea, towards the rising of the sun A single coot beside a tethered boat paddles nowhere with each nodding scoot, to pace the passing stream and bobbing here and there to duck...

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Thames A geographical nature Hidden behind a coin Invisible Poets took me to sit on the Banks of Thames Via literature!...

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It was thought she was pregnant confused as she was and out of her depth. They waded into the river to help. They floated rubber rafts to buoy her up. Marine experts posited ways to keep her breathing in shallow waters. In dockyard pubs hard men openly spoke of her plight, voices low and humorless as they test-drove new technical jargon. When she died; rolling in...

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The place where your butterflies flitter free in the meadow, licking the ambulant stream, the dew from life's vessels, perspirant milk of purity honey- Bursting from out of the seams. The shine of the little fluttering-Bearcat, pillar of change, for seasons changelings stage buttering.; In that; constant, source of inspirationing, constantly in ironys schemes. Vacation on vocational...

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When I thought of Leaving this ancient Town, I thought of you! Your dark winding, swirling waters, Gifted from distant Hills, You're Dangerous undercurrents, and your gentle tides, I hear you Calling like a jealous lover, Your long reaching limbs never far away, Reaching out to Embrace this town, This City, This soul, This home of Contradictions, Like a magnet, you draw us to your muddy shores, To let history...

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The Thames...always held intrigue....Europe.. the lights of the river glistening..as the Thames comes alive as only she can... Yachts sail gently through near making a sound...Rivers always have that effect ..as we look across the moon lit bay ...the breeze saunters ...english bagpipes play hauntedly...setting the quisessential theme for the night... As we drink our wine ..beneath the...

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The mist in Regent Gardens air awakes a single rosebud there. Her scent drifts past Trafalgar Square - England’s summer has begun. The rising sun above the Thames shines brighter than a crown of gems; peeks through the panes of Buckingham until the day is done. Saint James Park invites the dawn as sunbeams nudge the regal lawn. Grass blades spread their arms and yawn: "Good...

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