Poems about Britain and being British
#Britain
Poems about Britain and British culture, history, politics and lifestyle. Poems about England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, and cities and islands within Britain. Also, poetry about British poets and famous British people.
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
30th Apr 2024 11:40am
30th Apr 2024 11:40am
The closing flame
beat the shadows
and the stars
into submission
pray
ask questions both
in life and in sleep
hold out hands to weave
the vast threads of that
great beyond
be still
burn wild flames
long into the night
hold the words
of those spirits
thank them for presence
for humble inspiration
in this world
and the next
because the old ways
are alive
they are beating
their love
against the sky
follow their wings...
and the stars
into submission
pray
ask questions both
in life and in sleep
hold out hands to weave
the vast threads of that
great beyond
be still
burn wild flames
long into the night
hold the words
of those spirits
thank them for presence
for humble inspiration
in this world
and the next
because the old ways
are alive
they are beating
their love
against the sky
follow their wings...
#Britain
#pagan
192 reads
3 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
28th Apr 2024 11:15am
28th Apr 2024 11:15am
Hymn to the Land
bury your wounds, allowing
moorland dirt to coat fingernails
thinking of soles and toes and ankles
drumming dirt with the dance
of memories, of Beltane fires
wild arms extended
fingers flexed as if reaching
through clouds, weaving
night into glorious day
let a body drop, the weight of it
swaying gently on hammocks
made of willow branches
waiting for rain—
pure, crystalline droplets
falling from a mottled sky
giving yourself over to it all
bruised, yet full and feeling
because you...
moorland dirt to coat fingernails
thinking of soles and toes and ankles
drumming dirt with the dance
of memories, of Beltane fires
wild arms extended
fingers flexed as if reaching
through clouds, weaving
night into glorious day
let a body drop, the weight of it
swaying gently on hammocks
made of willow branches
waiting for rain—
pure, crystalline droplets
falling from a mottled sky
giving yourself over to it all
bruised, yet full and feeling
because you...
#Britain
#meditation
#pagan
134 reads
2 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
25th Apr 2024 2:25pm
25th Apr 2024 2:25pm
Hymn to the Otherworld
I’m unsure if it was a white horse
ruffled at the neck, unbridled
hooves in the dust until one of us
woke in the half-light of dreaming
if it burst from the stars
across a scorched earth,
punctuated the silence
that Dream Of Gerontius
made flesh, waiting for
the dark hum of man.
Did it seek out the deserts
the black tumble of time
through fingers
that latched on to longing
on to every living thing
searched for warmth
begged for a face
how it burned...
ruffled at the neck, unbridled
hooves in the dust until one of us
woke in the half-light of dreaming
if it burst from the stars
across a scorched earth,
punctuated the silence
that Dream Of Gerontius
made flesh, waiting for
the dark hum of man.
Did it seek out the deserts
the black tumble of time
through fingers
that latched on to longing
on to every living thing
searched for warmth
begged for a face
how it burned...
#Britain
#pagan
175 reads
5 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
24th Apr 2024 11:56am
24th Apr 2024 11:56am
Hymn to King Penda
bent in two, your crooked crown
speaks of distance between
land and sky
of Mercia burning alive
drummed by the feet of Saxons
who proclaimed a different name
beat you with that one true God
unfamiliar to a heathen tongue
and so, I think of you fondly
as I sit beneath a tree in England
your bones quaking in familiar mud
tangled with tree roots, those boggy oaks
that rot slowly—
life becoming death
death becoming eternity
and I note the gold cross
they branded you with
becomes sand running ...
speaks of distance between
land and sky
of Mercia burning alive
drummed by the feet of Saxons
who proclaimed a different name
beat you with that one true God
unfamiliar to a heathen tongue
and so, I think of you fondly
as I sit beneath a tree in England
your bones quaking in familiar mud
tangled with tree roots, those boggy oaks
that rot slowly—
life becoming death
death becoming eternity
and I note the gold cross
they branded you with
becomes sand running ...
#Britain
#pagan
#religion
137 reads
5 Comments
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
157 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
178 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
132 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
160 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
204 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
153 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
160 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
145 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems about Britain and being British
#Britain is curated by Northern_Soul.
