"brunel" poems - Hello Poetry

On an island in the west country,.. In the Queen's land, where Black-beard,.. Once played on, as a young child.. And called his home, among the contours... Chained men and tobaccos.. Once brought fortune lust.. Bridges were built, and train tracks laid.. By the man Brunel, who wore as long a hat.. Ships and cathedrals, sugar factories.. Bansky's graffiti, treasured marks on walls.. And stone-henge laid a stone throw away.. Roman baths, in near by Bath.. And underground passage, of tunnels.. Laid for walks and rivers paths.. Horse mountain and Welsh borders.. Sat not far away on looks, across the channel.. But for the one thing, that makes Brizz so special.. Is the sanctuary, it provides for lost souls.. This here laid land, a place like home.. Gulliver did be so proud, to call his home.. Away from home, as I do, away from home..

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Aug 20, 2010

Aug 20, 2010 at 5:53 PM UTC

kodjo-deynoo

Briss Bristol

On an island in the west country,.. In the Queen's land, where Black-beard,.. Once played on, as a young child.. And called his home, among the contours... Chained men and tobaccos.. Once brought fortune lust.. Bridges were built, and train tracks laid.. By the man Brunel, who wore as long a hat.. Ships and cathedrals, sugar factories.. Bansky's graffiti, treasured marks on walls.. And stone-henge laid a stone throw away.. Roman baths, in near by Bath.. And underground passage, of tunnels.. Laid for walks and rivers paths.. Horse mountain and Welsh borders.. Sat not far away on looks, across the channel.. But for the one thing, that makes Brizz so special.. Is the sanctuary, it provides for lost souls.. This here laid land, a place like home.. Gulliver did be so proud, to call his home.. Away from home, as I do, away from home..

21

Home of the navy, big and strong, Think that's it? You are most wrong, Home of Dickens, and Isambard Brunel, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stayed a while as well, Singers like Same Difference born so very close to home, Gunwharf Quays, Action Stations and even a PlayZone, An Aquarium, lots of shops, amusement parks and more, Theatres, museums, the Isle of White; it's fun from shore to shore, Portsmouth is a brilliant place, to live and work and play, People who live or visit here shouldn't ever move away!

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May 1, 2015

May 1, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC

Mattlikethepaint

Portsmouth

Home of the navy, big and strong, Think that's it? You are most wrong, Home of Dickens, and Isambard Brunel, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stayed a while as well, Singers like Same Difference born so very close to home, Gunwharf Quays, Action Stations and even a PlayZone, An Aquarium, lots of shops, amusement parks and more, Theatres, museums, the Isle of White; it's fun from shore to shore, Portsmouth is a brilliant place, to live and work and play, People who live or visit here shouldn't ever move away!

10

Man is evil , he stole from the tree , he ate from the orchard , the apple , the plum , the pear ripe , yet no fruit did it bear . How he builds to his own Glory , Majesty power . How resplendent his works on the sea's , Andrews designs his workshops in the ghost of Brunel , ' even God himself could not sink , this ship ' How proud am I that New Yorks lights may shine bright tonight .' Faster and faster she sailed burning coal fires roared , pitch black smoke they roared , like an uncontrollable beast foaming at it's mouth , Child and mother and Father did not awake , or like cattle with rats left to their fate . Nothing was spared for the great and the good , Oysters , French ice cream , Cream of Barley , Hors Doeuvie , Roast Duck and apple sauce . lumps of ice on deck enter this cold spring dawn that could only bring death . The wealthy sailed in boats that heard Angels cry , dolls and chairs , Kitchen pots and plates , mothers held their babies as salt waters swell . Only the moon that night could ever give away it's secrets to it's starry hosts . Children were tossed into sacks , then into nets pulled up into the Carpathias ***** , Women wandered like lost souls looking for the're men as dawn broke so did the reality of their never ending night . New Yorks lights shone bright that night , not for Titanics waters did they part , Pier fifty four greeted the survivors to such surprise . The thousands that gathered with grief and questions in their eyes . How many dead ? the death toll rise, to this never ending night until the violin played and fell forever silent to the sea , nearer my God , yes nearer my God to thee . All that remained the crashing of each wave , the Atlantic Ocean swollowed whole , Swollowed whole .

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Apr 16, 2018

Apr 16, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC

Travellerintime

Pier 54

Man is evil , he stole from the tree , he ate from the orchard , the apple , the plum , the pear ripe , yet no fruit did it bear . How he builds to his own Glory , Majesty power . How resplendent his works on the sea's , Andrews designs his workshops in the ghost of Brunel , ' even God himself could not sink , this ship ' How proud am I that New Yorks lights may shine bright tonight .' Faster and faster she sailed burning coal fires roared , pitch black smoke they roared , like an uncontrollable beast foaming at it's mouth , Child and mother and Father did not awake , or like cattle with rats left to their fate . Nothing was spared for the great and the good , Oysters , French ice cream , Cream of Barley , Hors Doeuvie , Roast Duck and apple sauce . lumps of ice on deck enter this cold spring dawn that could only bring death . The wealthy sailed in boats that heard Angels cry , dolls and chairs , Kitchen pots and plates , mothers held their babies as salt waters swell . Only the moon that night could ever give away it's secrets to it's starry hosts . Children were tossed into sacks , then into nets pulled up into the Carpathias ***** , Women wandered like lost souls looking for the're men as dawn broke so did the reality of their never ending night . New Yorks lights shone bright that night , not for Titanics waters did they part , Pier fifty four greeted the survivors to such surprise . The thousands that gathered with grief and questions in their eyes . How many dead ? the death toll rise, to this never ending night until the violin played and fell forever silent to the sea , nearer my God , yes nearer my God to thee . All that remained the crashing of each wave , the Atlantic Ocean swollowed whole , Swollowed whole .

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