"londoners" poems - Hello Poetry

That's Mugwort and that's Red Sorrel and that over there is Red Campion Jane said we were walking on the Downs the sky summery warm almost cloudless cattle mooed nearby a flock of birds flew over our heads her hand held mine skin on skin warm soft I sensed an appley scent about her we had kissed the day before and it had been other worldly and now I wanted to kiss again but didn't want to push forward but wait to see what happened and that she said is White Deadnettle smiling at me you know the countryside well I said well you Londoners know nothing of it but at least you want to learn she said I liked the flowery dress she was wearing red and yellow with a yellow sash tied about her and the white ankle socks and black shoes (slightly muddy) I observed her carefully wanting to know more of her of nature of us and that bird back there was a pheasant she said we paused in the corn field and looked back up towards the Downs and she turned to me and kissed me and held me close and I felt almost absorbed into her body and wanted to feel more and more and she parted and said I'm no expert on kissing was that all right? not sure I'll need to try again I said smiling and she took my hand and squeezed it and kissed me again and the cattle mooed louder and a bird flew overhead spying before it took off in the sky high flying.

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Oct 2, 2015

Oct 2, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC

TerryCollett

SKY HIGH FLYING 1961

That's Mugwort and that's Red Sorrel and that over there is Red Campion Jane said we were walking on the Downs the sky summery warm almost cloudless cattle mooed nearby a flock of birds flew over our heads her hand held mine skin on skin warm soft I sensed an appley scent about her we had kissed the day before and it had been other worldly and now I wanted to kiss again but didn't want to push forward but wait to see what happened and that she said is White Deadnettle smiling at me you know the countryside well I said well you Londoners know nothing of it but at least you want to learn she said I liked the flowery dress she was wearing red and yellow with a yellow sash tied about her and the white ankle socks and black shoes (slightly muddy) I observed her carefully wanting to know more of her of nature of us and that bird back there was a pheasant she said we paused in the corn field and looked back up towards the Downs and she turned to me and kissed me and held me close and I felt almost absorbed into her body and wanted to feel more and more and she parted and said I'm no expert on kissing was that all right? not sure I'll need to try again I said smiling and she took my hand and squeezed it and kissed me again and the cattle mooed louder and a bird flew overhead spying before it took off in the sky high flying.

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London is an onion. Not one of those big, brown juicy globes you can buy in packs of three, from Tesco, No, an earthy, shrivelled relic from an old geezer's allotment, With trailing fronds and a few infestations. If you were to take a bite, your eyes would smart and your body rebel with a cough, a shudder and a wheeze, But moments later, a smile would be playing round your lips, Such a sensory adventure, though not exactly pleasant, can still be savoured, And you'll remember the taste forever. Londoners are weevils, hiding in the layers. Outer, inner, some of us worm our way between them all. Me, I tend to head for the heart of the thing, Soho, Southwark, the inner sanctums. I sometimes venture nearer the surface, the outer edges, But too close to the unknown, and unfamiliar air, And I start to pine for the centre. You can work between the layers, But the many skins are tougher than you'd think, Better to burrow down, find a place to sustain The appetite of a hungry little grub.

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Sep 15, 2013

Sep 15, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC

AmandaIS

London, an onion

London is an onion. Not one of those big, brown juicy globes you can buy in packs of three, from Tesco, No, an earthy, shrivelled relic from an old geezer's allotment, With trailing fronds and a few infestations. If you were to take a bite, your eyes would smart and your body rebel with a cough, a shudder and a wheeze, But moments later, a smile would be playing round your lips, Such a sensory adventure, though not exactly pleasant, can still be savoured, And you'll remember the taste forever. Londoners are weevils, hiding in the layers. Outer, inner, some of us worm our way between them all. Me, I tend to head for the heart of the thing, Soho, Southwark, the inner sanctums. I sometimes venture nearer the surface, the outer edges, But too close to the unknown, and unfamiliar air, And I start to pine for the centre. You can work between the layers, But the many skins are tougher than you'd think, Better to burrow down, find a place to sustain The appetite of a hungry little grub.

20

Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I stept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone.

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1.7k

A. E. Housman

Loitering With A Vacant Eye

Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I stept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone.

26

She wasn't precisely a criminal, nor innocent of sin. An Asymmetrical warrior and a Republican to the end. To Londoners, she was a terrorist To the Irish, a voice from the past. She wound up, old and embittered, Determined that Peace should not last. She 's survived by her sons and her sister and some tapes that Sinn Fein brands lies. She was known as the "Old Bailey bomber" in the time of the Troubles gone by Her coffin was draped in the colors. Her comrades in arms standing by. The living now are greybeards and the rising moon is not nigh.

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Feb 10, 2013

Feb 10, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

Dolours Price

She wasn't precisely a criminal, nor innocent of sin. An Asymmetrical warrior and a Republican to the end. To Londoners, she was a terrorist To the Irish, a voice from the past. She wound up, old and embittered, Determined that Peace should not last. She 's survived by her sons and her sister and some tapes that Sinn Fein brands lies. She was known as the "Old Bailey bomber" in the time of the Troubles gone by Her coffin was draped in the colors. Her comrades in arms standing by. The living now are greybeards and the rising moon is not nigh.

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The Souls of Grenfell Tower 1 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls did not depart in vain. 2 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls have been chosen from amongst other souls 3 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls have been returned in the best of months, Ramadan 4 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for God descended to listen to their final utters of prayer 5 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their blissful souls reiterated the peacefulness of 2 billion others 6 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for they proved, pried upon practicing pupils, prevent further terror and tragedy 7 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for in June, they indeed sealed the end of May 8 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls showed the tweeting real duck, Londoners Khan all break fast together 9 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for they led Britain's conversation and distanced Hatie and her fallen solutions 10 Grieve not, dear families of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls invited pleasant lilies, with beautiful oras, and the most famous of hellos - Salaam 11 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for they ignited the indigestion of cladding, in lowly aristocrats and their tory toys 12 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for Martyrdom was their end to a new beginning 13 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for God has granted them Gardens of Eden.

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Jun 22, 2017

Jun 22, 2017 at 7:39 PM UTC

i-ayfarah

The Souls of Grenfell Tower

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these days i fill my lungs with smoke to insulate my brain and consider the londoners who i haven't seen in far too long. michael with his spitting essex accent and juliet who michael says 'sounz welfee' telling me to put a kettle on and then complaining when i leave the tea bag in the mug. "i like it strong to the last drop" i insist and they call me a 'daft bint' and michael says that if all yanks made tea like i do then it's no wonder we were willing to throw it in the harbor. we all take our tea in different shades. and they can tell just glancing at the cup that i've over-poured the milk. they seem to always consider hue those londoners who know their nuances. afterall they were raised beneath shades of grey. perhaps i see more delicately, too.

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Feb 19, 2013

Feb 19, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC

j-carroll

a love letter to some londoners

these days i fill my lungs with smoke to insulate my brain and consider the londoners who i haven't seen in far too long. michael with his spitting essex accent and juliet who michael says 'sounz welfee' telling me to put a kettle on and then complaining when i leave the tea bag in the mug. "i like it strong to the last drop" i insist and they call me a 'daft bint' and michael says that if all yanks made tea like i do then it's no wonder we were willing to throw it in the harbor. we all take our tea in different shades. and they can tell just glancing at the cup that i've over-poured the milk. they seem to always consider hue those londoners who know their nuances. afterall they were raised beneath shades of grey. perhaps i see more delicately, too.

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There’s a constant anxiety on those tables A perilous way to deflect the world and all its problems A kind of insidious joy in collecting All these miniatures, minuscule and exquisitely crafted figures Bothered by life in their stillness Like little swans and princesses Lingering in a silence which is sacred. These tiny clever ones Shuffled on slightly scratched wood, Wear their days like a cloak of doom And push each other Like Londoners out of the tube. Fearless, little monsters Repressing their hunger, treading over the borders of life, they enter forests from which no escape is granted Where awakens a desire for mutiny, From the abnormal perfection Smothered under ceramic faces. A bedside table full of whatnots Doesn’t shield you from bad dreams The little shepherd lies smashed on the floor And no one’s going to cry for him.

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Dec 7, 2015

Dec 7, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC

NeptunianPoetryMaker

Whatnots

There’s a constant anxiety on those tables A perilous way to deflect the world and all its problems A kind of insidious joy in collecting All these miniatures, minuscule and exquisitely crafted figures Bothered by life in their stillness Like little swans and princesses Lingering in a silence which is sacred. These tiny clever ones Shuffled on slightly scratched wood, Wear their days like a cloak of doom And push each other Like Londoners out of the tube. Fearless, little monsters Repressing their hunger, treading over the borders of life, they enter forests from which no escape is granted Where awakens a desire for mutiny, From the abnormal perfection Smothered under ceramic faces. A bedside table full of whatnots Doesn’t shield you from bad dreams The little shepherd lies smashed on the floor And no one’s going to cry for him.

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Whilst London burned they did try so hard with hands tied behind their backs they did try This political upheaval lies between the lines kids doing criminal acts beyond the years of crime This nasty situation with thugs on our streets this is what England is now full of yobs and sheep This Rat in black has had far too much if I had law in this land I'd eat them up for lunch Looters and thieves visions beyond belief I want them called to justice before I loose it and grit my teeth I will fight for my country, tooth and nail No enemy from within, will take us now I would face death before loosing London and all good Londoners will show you how By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris © 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

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Nov 19, 2013

Nov 19, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC

christos-andreas-kourtis

Before Loosing London

Whilst London burned they did try so hard with hands tied behind their backs they did try This political upheaval lies between the lines kids doing criminal acts beyond the years of crime This nasty situation with thugs on our streets this is what England is now full of yobs and sheep This Rat in black has had far too much if I had law in this land I'd eat them up for lunch Looters and thieves visions beyond belief I want them called to justice before I loose it and grit my teeth I will fight for my country, tooth and nail No enemy from within, will take us now I would face death before loosing London and all good Londoners will show you how By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris © 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

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The gas mask swings from round his neck as he holds tight his mothers hand the screaming sirens call all the be prepared it's down to the shelters all over this land The wardens with their tin hats usher hurriedly these London born down deep to the underground down to the humid stale and warm All is ghostly for silence holds dominion then from above they hear the distant drone this is the unearthly sound of bombers coming to destroy Londoners homes In flurries of six the bombs fall you hear them get closer the ground seams to quake as children start to shake So this is war in it's lowest form threatening the existence of the London born some close their eyes and pray with hopes to live another day By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2010 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

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Sep 3, 2013

Sep 3, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC

christos-andreas-kourtis

To Live Another Day

The gas mask swings from round his neck as he holds tight his mothers hand the screaming sirens call all the be prepared it's down to the shelters all over this land The wardens with their tin hats usher hurriedly these London born down deep to the underground down to the humid stale and warm All is ghostly for silence holds dominion then from above they hear the distant drone this is the unearthly sound of bombers coming to destroy Londoners homes In flurries of six the bombs fall you hear them get closer the ground seams to quake as children start to shake So this is war in it's lowest form threatening the existence of the London born some close their eyes and pray with hopes to live another day By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2010 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

23

The narrow country lane with high hedgerows with whistling birds and the far off sound of a tractor in a field. Benny walked close to the edge in case vehicles came along. He was going to meet Jane by the lane to the church. He'd just helped get the cows in from the fields and helped weigh the milk. He passed two cottages on his left where a boy lived who said he didn't like Londoners and Benny said tough luck and now the boy didn't speak but gave him black looks. The tractor stopped the field was quiet birds flew from hedgerows in the distance. He saw Jane waiting for him dressed in a cotton flowered dress and her black hair tied in two bunches. She smiled when she saw him and his heart thumped harder as he came close. A feast for his eyes her beautiful figure and face. The tractor began again the sound coming across the field and hedgerows which stood upright like soldiers in rows.

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Feb 12, 2017

Feb 12, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC

TerryCollett

SUMMER DAY MEETING 1961.

The narrow country lane with high hedgerows with whistling birds and the far off sound of a tractor in a field. Benny walked close to the edge in case vehicles came along. He was going to meet Jane by the lane to the church. He'd just helped get the cows in from the fields and helped weigh the milk. He passed two cottages on his left where a boy lived who said he didn't like Londoners and Benny said tough luck and now the boy didn't speak but gave him black looks. The tractor stopped the field was quiet birds flew from hedgerows in the distance. He saw Jane waiting for him dressed in a cotton flowered dress and her black hair tied in two bunches. She smiled when she saw him and his heart thumped harder as he came close. A feast for his eyes her beautiful figure and face. The tractor began again the sound coming across the field and hedgerows which stood upright like soldiers in rows.

53

I am in Eden a mother's brother but this chunnel is surf London would scarf to the sands therein dawn as their bridge was to cross the air with Tim where in Times Square

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May 11, 2019

May 11, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC

poetman

Londoners

I am in Eden a mother's brother but this chunnel is surf London would scarf to the sands therein dawn as their bridge was to cross the air with Tim where in Times Square

17

In London, the crowds got to swoon At a 20-foot orange balloon Of a baby, quite plump, Looking very like Trump As he often appears – a buffoon. His huge mouth is agape with a scream, Surely spouting a foul-sounding theme And his little hand grasps What inspires some gasps – That’s his phone, with its Twitter-type stream. So the “welcome” the planners conceived And that Londoners thereby achieved Was a slap in the face Bringing Donald disgrace And the chance to see how he’s perceived.

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Jul 15, 2018

Jul 15, 2018 at 4:59 PM UTC

ilene-bauer

The Trump Balloon

In London, the crowds got to swoon At a 20-foot orange balloon Of a baby, quite plump, Looking very like Trump As he often appears – a buffoon. His huge mouth is agape with a scream, Surely spouting a foul-sounding theme And his little hand grasps What inspires some gasps – That’s his phone, with its Twitter-type stream. So the “welcome” the planners conceived And that Londoners thereby achieved Was a slap in the face Bringing Donald disgrace And the chance to see how he’s perceived.

15

Cherry blossom pinks encircle a park, Cordoned off by stretched police ribbon Surrounding its inner heart. Inside lies a man. Cherry blossom pinks run from his body. Springtime has brought record temperatures And Londoners sit out, filling the beer garden that overflows into the adjacent park. The sun’s heat can be blinding. Later they wrap the tape back up. Another stabbing. Open and shut. The sun sets and the beer garden empties. Tomorrow, the park will fill again. The cherry blossom’s pink as temporary as our memories.

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Jun 18, 2019

Jun 18, 2019 at 8:53 AM UTC

ciankennedy

Cherry blossoms and record temperatures

Cherry blossom pinks encircle a park, Cordoned off by stretched police ribbon Surrounding its inner heart. Inside lies a man. Cherry blossom pinks run from his body. Springtime has brought record temperatures And Londoners sit out, filling the beer garden that overflows into the adjacent park. The sun’s heat can be blinding. Later they wrap the tape back up. Another stabbing. Open and shut. The sun sets and the beer garden empties. Tomorrow, the park will fill again. The cherry blossom’s pink as temporary as our memories.

14

It Seems That ... FEAR ... ? Is groWING ... Here ... !!! Because Some People ... Have Shed ... TEARS ... !!! TEARS Because ... A Loved One's ........ GONE ......................................... This ... OF COURSE ... Is CLEARLY ... WRONG ... !!!! Cos' Fear Right Now ... Does NOT ..... Belong ...... On ... London's Streets ... WHY ... Wage WAR ... ? When We NEED ... Peace ... !?! PEACE and LOVE ... and ... UNITY ... DON'T ... " Presume " ... That I'm ... GUILTY ... !!!!! You DON'T KNOW ... What Type ... I BE ... I Just Write ... TRUE Poetry ... POETRY ... That's REAL To ... Me ... !!! These Are Words To ... WAKE The ... "Herds" ... !!! What You See ... Are Visions ... BlUrrRrRRREeedd ... !!!!! Visions BLURRED By ... " Fallacies " ... !!! Visions BLURRED By ... " Tragedies " ... !!! Do You See ... ? The Things ... I SEE ... ? Judgements Made ... By ... " Met' Police " ... RAIDING Homes .... Like ... "Forty Thieves" ... What I SEE ... Is ... Met' Police ... Pointing GUNS ..... Needlessly ... At Young Men ... Who Look Like Me ... !!! Asians TOO ... Are Now ... DISPLEASED ... By ... ABUSE ... They SEE On Streets ... !!!! Meantime ........ ALL We're Hearing Is ..... "We NEED HELP, from, Young Muslims !" WHY ... !?! If They Know ... ... EVERYTHING ... ?!? Those INVOLVED ... In ... Bus BOMBINGS ... !!! That's Why NOW ... Police ... WILL STING ... !!! Now Isn't THIS ... A ... " Funny Thing " ... ?!? IF They ... " KNOW " ... About ... THIS STUFF ... ? Why KEEP Making ... Such A ... FUSS ... ?!?!? Putting FEAR ... In Those Who ... " Trust " ... Riding On ... A London Bus ... NOW It's FEAR ... That They Hold DEAR ... !!! It's A ... STRAIN ... On ... MANY Brains ... !!!!!!!!!!! Riding On ... London's ... Tube Trains ... !!! It's THE SAME ... Time and AGAIN ... Asians NOW ... Can Get ... TWO SEATS ... !!!! cos of This ... A ... TRUE Story ... A Friend of Mine ... A Young ... " Asian " ... Was On A Train ... With .... " Caucasians " ... When They SAW ... The Bag He Had ... They STEERED .............................................. CLEAR ........ Now ... AIN'T That ... " Sad " ... This is WHY ... It Made Him ... MAD ... !!!!! He's Born and BRED ... In ... THIS HERE Land ... and He Is A ... ... CLEVER Man ... !!! English Wife ... and ... Two Children ... He Is NOT ... A ... " TERROR Man " ... !!!!! But He's Suffered ... RACISM ... From .... Guess Who .... ? YES ... Englishman ... !!! Who .... BELIEVE .... What's On ... NEWSSTANDS ... ?!? This Stuff NEEDS to .................................................................................. Disappear ............. !!!!!! News Stories ... CREATING ... Fear ... WHO In ... England ... REALLY ... Gains ... From BLOWING UP ... A London Train ... ?!!!? OF COURSE ... It's MUSLIMS ... Who Will Gain ... ?!? From These ... " Acts " ... Take A Sec' and ..... Think On THAT ..................................................... Do You Get ... What I'm Saying ... ??? No ... Well Let Me ... TRY AGAIN ... !!! OF COURSE It's ... Muslims ... Who Will ... GAIN ... From These ... " Acts " ... !?! Take A Sec' and ... THINK ON That ........................................................ It's Muslims NOW ... That Face ... REAL PAIN ... !!! From Londoners ... Who FEEL ... THIS Way ... !!! HATRED ... IS ... A HORRID Thing ... !!!!!! What You See ... Ain't ... EVERYTHING ... !!! Check Through ... The Past ....................................... They've LIED BEFORE ... !!! From ... " Watergate " ... To Clintons' ... ***** ... !!! This Is TRUTH ... It AIN'T ... " Folklore " ... !!! Hatred ... YES ... I Do .... ABHOR ... !!!!! Check The STATS ... and DON'T ............................. ignore ......... Why ... WE'RE HERE ... We AREN'T Here ... To Shed ... " False Tears " ... Use Your Eyes Man ... Steer .................................................................... WELL CLEAR .................. of ... This Thing ... That We Call ........ ...... " FEAR " ......

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Aug 13, 2019

Aug 13, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC

big-virge

"Fear" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 29/7/05

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