United Kingdom Poems - Poems about United Kingdom

The queen Elizabeth was born in April nineteen twenty six she grew up with her corgis and taught them lots of tricks. She was first born child at Balmoral Castle, born to the Duchess of York without any hassle. She didn't go to school she was always taught at home, before she became the nations queen sat upon her throne. The...

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Beautiful England, oh how beautiful its landscapes are How wonderful its villages and towns are How fascinating London and its districts are My wonderful home has made a huge difference in my life I will carry this city in my heart forever, it's my new life...

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Dancing in the rain in the UK The water is pouring and pounding down And I'm dancing no doubt looking insane, But I can feel the rain's rhythm as it beats down, As it rebounds off the ground again and again, Each raindrop creates a ripple as it rebounds Each raindrop has its own sound rain is not plain It's...

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Look Nigel, Boris and Dave are all climbing out of the cave No longer keen to be an MP - they’d rather freak-out at a rave! The Commons have driven them sickly So they’re clearing their desks rather quickly With no thought for Rishi, Their hasty escape looks quite fishy. Well, why would they sit on a bench, in a...

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10 DOWNING STREET Boris, is being shown the door! I envy you...

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We live in the age of "Brexit", a transitional time seemingly hectic, many alive didn't expect it, the hectic or the exit, now an inability to accept it may pull Britain down and wreck it. "It's the people that make a great nation". Skewed Brexit news is on the loose as the media exploit, abusing those minds that choose to view unclued through...

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I welcome you to this magic kingdom Drowned in endorphins and stale perfume To hide the stench of sweat but not shame You're free to leave but you won't be the same So grab a drink, have one of my fags The girls and boys in glamourous rags Fight 'til the sunlight on sticky floors Tomorrow morning they'll regret it, of course Forget...

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England lies along the shores where constant waves roll in. It's a place that beckons me back, though I have never been. A longing tares inside of me that chokes my very soul and the little taverns beckon me to return to days of old. I inhale the cut grass blades that I've never laid upon,...

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Fingers of light pierced the clouds caressing the moors with life giving warmth, purples, browns and greens of heathers mingled, blended, in a union of beauty. Yellow of gorse splashed in the sultry, hazy spectre of natures superb canvas. The dry stone walling lay sporadic, lost, decaying in time and memory, the hardy moorland sheep stumbled from blade to blade, in...

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