Poems About Britain Seeking Honest Critique
#Britain
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2024 10:35am
23rd Apr 2024 10:35am
Hymn to Trees
Black boots leave a bus
as I watch it trundle off
into English dust
I pass through a kissing gate
walk past the orchard full
of Beltane blossom
up a dirt track towards
a meadow full of buttercups
and red clover.
There she stands
Bella, my oak tree
on her own in the midst
of a lone field
she who stands with ribbons
tied into her spindles
markers of every prayer
every thought
every wish ever uttered.
I sit here sometimes
crouching to reach a crawl-space...
as I watch it trundle off
into English dust
I pass through a kissing gate
walk past the orchard full
of Beltane blossom
up a dirt track towards
a meadow full of buttercups
and red clover.
There she stands
Bella, my oak tree
on her own in the midst
of a lone field
she who stands with ribbons
tied into her spindles
markers of every prayer
every thought
every wish ever uttered.
I sit here sometimes
crouching to reach a crawl-space...
#Britain
#forest
#pagan
#prayer
#trees
138 reads
2 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
20th Apr 2024 10:05am
20th Apr 2024 10:05am
Hymn to Plunderers
When I think of all who have come
to rape this land of its bounties
vikings
romans
tories
I wonder if the land itself
is where we learn
our Britishness:
we do not crumble
in the taking of treasures,
we thrive in times
of deep agony
healing over
and over again
just as she
was pillaged
robbed
sacrificed
in the name of
gold & greed.
There’s a lot to be said
about the spirit of place
how to be British
is to be made of steel
...
to rape this land of its bounties
vikings
romans
tories
I wonder if the land itself
is where we learn
our Britishness:
we do not crumble
in the taking of treasures,
we thrive in times
of deep agony
healing over
and over again
just as she
was pillaged
robbed
sacrificed
in the name of
gold & greed.
There’s a lot to be said
about the spirit of place
how to be British
is to be made of steel
...
#Britain
#courage
#determination
#pagan
#strength
161 reads
3 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
19th Apr 2024 8:58pm
19th Apr 2024 8:58pm
Hymn to Druids
That Midsummer evening
I crossed Salisbury Plain on foot
thousands of people
bag checks
sniffer dogs
they blurred into the background
as I saw them there—
the great sarsens, sentry in the Earth
yoked to one another, some toppled
I pressed desperate palms against them
and soaked in all I’d imagined
in every documentary
every school book
felt those blue stones reverberate
as women in red sang melodies
harmonising with the sunset
and the darkness...
I crossed Salisbury Plain on foot
thousands of people
bag checks
sniffer dogs
they blurred into the background
as I saw them there—
the great sarsens, sentry in the Earth
yoked to one another, some toppled
I pressed desperate palms against them
and soaked in all I’d imagined
in every documentary
every school book
felt those blue stones reverberate
as women in red sang melodies
harmonising with the sunset
and the darkness...
#Britain
#pagan
114 reads
1 Comment
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
18th Apr 2024 9:45am
18th Apr 2024 9:45am
Hymn to Witches
Who did Margaret Read see
in her last throes of agony
what must it have been like
to suffer the flames of this world
to fear the fires of the next
the anguish of it,
the terror of such.
As women, it can often feel
as if our choices lie between
shitty and shittier
as if that intuition burning
our hearts and our guts and our blood
is the very thing turning our skin
to ash.
Some nights, my mind finds them
charred in a market square
consumed by ignorant fires
my bones are...
in her last throes of agony
what must it have been like
to suffer the flames of this world
to fear the fires of the next
the anguish of it,
the terror of such.
As women, it can often feel
as if our choices lie between
shitty and shittier
as if that intuition burning
our hearts and our guts and our blood
is the very thing turning our skin
to ash.
Some nights, my mind finds them
charred in a market square
consumed by ignorant fires
my bones are...
#Britain
#murder
#pagan
#witches
#women
146 reads
9 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
17th Apr 2024 9:05am
17th Apr 2024 9:05am
Hymn to The White Spring
In the beginning I saw nothing
eyes furiously adjusting
between day and night
a woman held my hand down
those gnarled stone steps
as I teetered on the edge
of nerves and darkness
then, as if a dimmer switch
gently illuminated sight:
hundreds of candles
moss covered horns
a huge central pool carved
out of simplistic stone
overflowing with spring water.
I sat a little.
Watched naked humans climb
in and out of that...
eyes furiously adjusting
between day and night
a woman held my hand down
those gnarled stone steps
as I teetered on the edge
of nerves and darkness
then, as if a dimmer switch
gently illuminated sight:
hundreds of candles
moss covered horns
a huge central pool carved
out of simplistic stone
overflowing with spring water.
I sat a little.
Watched naked humans climb
in and out of that...
#God
#pagan
#magic #Britain
#magic #Britain
174 reads
2 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
16th Apr 2024 8:47am
16th Apr 2024 8:47am
Hymn to The Red Spring
As a child I often wondered
what Narnia must look like
sat disappointed that every
wardrobe door did not unlock
a world of lions and fauns
but I kept dreaming as every
child does of something
beyond this place.
Thought about it as I paid
for a ticket and wandered into
that mystical garden
amongst fountains
& lush grass
pink cherry blossom
carpeting a canopy
a curious tree with ridged bark
surrounded by shoeless devotees
pressing their heathen skins ...
what Narnia must look like
sat disappointed that every
wardrobe door did not unlock
a world of lions and fauns
but I kept dreaming as every
child does of something
beyond this place.
Thought about it as I paid
for a ticket and wandered into
that mystical garden
amongst fountains
& lush grass
pink cherry blossom
carpeting a canopy
a curious tree with ridged bark
surrounded by shoeless devotees
pressing their heathen skins ...
#pagan
#Britain
#prayer
138 reads
2 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
10th Apr 2024 9:24am
10th Apr 2024 9:24am
Hymn to the Maiden
There are fields in the mind
endless fields stained in gold
where I’d lay in the harvest,
stalks erect beneath the sun
listening to the gentle chatter
of seeds shivering in their husks.
Anglia grew wheat, and hops
and rapeseed. Settlements
built on boggy fens and
Roman rule
and so I’d lay gazing at the sky
dreaming of coins and rings
and treasures laying dormant
inches below the soil, thinking ...
endless fields stained in gold
where I’d lay in the harvest,
stalks erect beneath the sun
listening to the gentle chatter
of seeds shivering in their husks.
Anglia grew wheat, and hops
and rapeseed. Settlements
built on boggy fens and
Roman rule
and so I’d lay gazing at the sky
dreaming of coins and rings
and treasures laying dormant
inches below the soil, thinking ...
#teens
#childhood
#pagan #Britain
#pagan #Britain
144 reads
12 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
8th Apr 2024 9:17am
8th Apr 2024 9:17am
Hymn to Spirits
and I’ll press my hand
against the glass of Sunday’s
bleak mirror
gaze at the small gap
between palm and reflection,
pondering the liminal
for much the same reason
as planting bare feet
at a dark crossroads
to silently meet
the man in black
as he speaks, always
through sacred wells, and ruins
that drop their anchors down
to where the Otherworld resides.
There are times when I become sick
of the new age and its fluff
because
the folk spirits I know, ...
against the glass of Sunday’s
bleak mirror
gaze at the small gap
between palm and reflection,
pondering the liminal
for much the same reason
as planting bare feet
at a dark crossroads
to silently meet
the man in black
as he speaks, always
through sacred wells, and ruins
that drop their anchors down
to where the Otherworld resides.
There are times when I become sick
of the new age and its fluff
because
the folk spirits I know, ...
#pagan
#Britain
124 reads
4 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
7th Apr 2024 7:18am
7th Apr 2024 7:18am
Hymn to Water
They were windsurfing on the lake today.
Storm Kathleen was rolling in after all
and so I watched them on a jetty
skim the waves with all the grace
of Bambi on ice.
The sports club owns that one—
charges exorbitant fees to dive
as well as insisting on wet-suits
and tow-floats and lifeguards
and other shit sucking the life
from wild experiences.
I don’t swim there.
I refuse to be sanitised
and maybe as forty looms
I carry with me the spirit
of my anarchic era
...
Storm Kathleen was rolling in after all
and so I watched them on a jetty
skim the waves with all the grace
of Bambi on ice.
The sports club owns that one—
charges exorbitant fees to dive
as well as insisting on wet-suits
and tow-floats and lifeguards
and other shit sucking the life
from wild experiences.
I don’t swim there.
I refuse to be sanitised
and maybe as forty looms
I carry with me the spirit
of my anarchic era
...
#water
#nature
#pagan #Britain
#pagan #Britain
152 reads
8 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
5th Apr 2024 8:10am
5th Apr 2024 8:10am
Hymn to Air
Two arms, propellor blades
lift in and out of the lake
rhythmic and calm
rhythmic and calm
rhythmic and calm
I float
beneath the sun
yet no warmth in this world,
spring tides on a pivot of ice.
For a moment, I look at clouds
seeing shapes in formless things
then gulp down breath in lungfuls
as I plunge beneath April’s waves.
This is how it felt
before time began,
before people and taxes
became one strange God
this is how I crawl back
inside the womb, how I wait ...
lift in and out of the lake
rhythmic and calm
rhythmic and calm
rhythmic and calm
I float
beneath the sun
yet no warmth in this world,
spring tides on a pivot of ice.
For a moment, I look at clouds
seeing shapes in formless things
then gulp down breath in lungfuls
as I plunge beneath April’s waves.
This is how it felt
before time began,
before people and taxes
became one strange God
this is how I crawl back
inside the womb, how I wait ...
#myself
#pagan
#Britain
163 reads
4 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
4th Apr 2024 9:11am
4th Apr 2024 9:11am
Hymn to Earth
I found the idle skeleton
of a lone deer out on the moor,
half-visible, half-sinking
into the bone-rich mud
eye sockets empty; the skin
quite gone as I considered
how death is simply life
with a free buffet.
Often, I dream of what it must
be like to sink into nothingness.
To seep slowly into the liminal,
to pour fuel into the abyss
how Earth
is always two parts green
often ten parts silence
of a lone deer out on the moor,
half-visible, half-sinking
into the bone-rich mud
eye sockets empty; the skin
quite gone as I considered
how death is simply life
with a free buffet.
Often, I dream of what it must
be like to sink into nothingness.
To seep slowly into the liminal,
to pour fuel into the abyss
how Earth
is always two parts green
often ten parts silence
#earth
#pagan
#Britain
183 reads
15 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
3rd Apr 2024 8:13am
3rd Apr 2024 8:13am
Hymn to Brigid
Ask her
where those wells touch sunlight;
where water kisses fragrant air
bursting with daisies, sweet honeysuckle
where she guides ink in heathen hands
pressed against warm sheets of paper,
word becoming thought,
thought becoming deed, and deed
becoming reason in humble retreat.
Ask her
where Celtic blood quakes in the eaves
of an oak-bound house, where children
gather around Mother’s milk, a fire roars,
part faith, part God in the arms
of the hopeless. She moves ...
where those wells touch sunlight;
where water kisses fragrant air
bursting with daisies, sweet honeysuckle
where she guides ink in heathen hands
pressed against warm sheets of paper,
word becoming thought,
thought becoming deed, and deed
becoming reason in humble retreat.
Ask her
where Celtic blood quakes in the eaves
of an oak-bound house, where children
gather around Mother’s milk, a fire roars,
part faith, part God in the arms
of the hopeless. She moves ...
#spring
#pagan
#Britain
135 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Britain Seeking Honest Critique
#Britain is curated by Northern_Soul.
