Love Poems About London or London Love Poems

London love poems and/or love poems about London. Read, share, and enjoy these London love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Charmaine Chircop |
Categories: lovedance, me, sweet, home, dance, home, life, london, love, me, sweet,

GIVE ME YOUR HAND....

Let me take you to Venice
passing through the canals
all the alleys and valleys
gondolieurs,souvenirs,
saying cheers,drinking wine 
whilst we dine,full moon  
lanternes lightning sweet Venice,
its the place for romance
our place, shall we dance?
home sweet home ,we're in Venice............
Let me take you to Paris,
lovers home were we roam
and we go up so high nearly 
touching the sky in chic Paris,
There we go on Eiffel Greatest tower,
holding hand,disney land an adventure
for hours,shall we dance once again?
im your girl,you're my man!
home sweet home,we're in Grand Paris............
Let me take you to London doing good 
shopping spree,London eye,more to see 
visiting Royalty Handsome William and Harry,
thats the day ,You will ask me to marry......
Whilst we pass London's bridge by  the ferry
Home sweet home London home.......
Shall we Marry?...................................
Let me take you to Greece,
where all legends  and myths
shape to life once again,
whilst the Gods bow their head
shall we wed then we sleep in our bed,
making love through the night in soft breeze,
i'm your girl,You're my man!
Home sweet home,we're in Greece............
Let me take you to Malta melite!
Rich history, flowered carpets n all  streets,
Mdina  lovers' den, charming gem silent city,
brown eyed men with a tan,girls so pretty!
and the sun shines so bright,many stars 
through the night,my sweet homeland delight,
happy faces what a site!Malta beauty sweet dreams,
showing you what life means,where safety matter most,
where people are not ghosts,where love flows as it glows,
through our seas,scented breeze,treasure  treats
temples , harbours,good food,all to please...and they please.......
Its the place where you're home ,feel at ease
whilst we dance ,the best dance of classic  LOVE romance
home sweet home,we're in land of the knights,
we're in MALTA--MELITE--EUROPE'S  PEARL off all times...
Malta Melite my Heart Beat.........till it dies..................

--------------------------------------------------------------------CHARMA


Poem Details | by Gregory R Barden |
Categories: london, love, violence,

No Easy Answer - London Attack

How do we fight this war on mirth,
When love and life now have no worth?

How do we alter such twisted souls,
With death and horror their only goals?

To save a spirit such perverted spin,
It has to transform from deep within..

Seems hope is done before it starts,
Yet, LOVE can change the coldest hearts.


Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: absence, angel, betrayal, business, car, career, celebrity, change, childhood, dance, death, death of a friend, dedication, devotion, england, farewell, fear, first love, for him, freedom, friendship, funeral, goodbye, grief, heartbroken, history, identity, international, london, miss you, money, murder, muse, music, mystery, new york, peace, political, power, remember, rights, spiritual, tribute, truth, visionary, wisdom,

he is leaving home

                            
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        ThenAbbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one It wanted silence

                    Going back.remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      Nothis was not my hero in music and song

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of.coming together
                                                                                                                                                                        
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone bylet us tell the TruthLet us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                






Poem Details | by Catman Cohen |
Categories: angst, girlfriend-boyfriend, lost love, love, music, passion, romance, sad, song-pain, sweet, london, sweet,

London

She called herself London
On that day 
She fell from the sky
Child of apple blossoms
Dancing wildly
Into your mind

The snake that hung from her neck
Bites your hand
Expels you from Eden
Tears into the cool flesh
Of your madness
Posing as reason

London
Kisses you like a sweet lover
As though she really cares
Lets you 
Taste the passionate orchard
In her body’s secret lair

London
Wrestles with all your demons
Nothing quite compares
To the pain 
The indecent pleasure
In the waters that you share

Her name was London
Call her London

She called herself London
On that night
She prayed to the moon
Apollo’s lyre
Played darkly
In a portent 
Of your own doom

The hell she hides 
In her soul
Toxic drug you’ll never escape
You crave the milk of her touch
Her strange and dangerous ways

London
Kisses you like a sweet lover
As though she really cares
Lets you 
Taste the passionate orchard
In her body’s secret lair

London
Wrestles with all your demons
Nothing quite compares
To the pain 
The indecent pleasure
In the waters that you share  

Her name was London
Call her London

My baby, London
Call her London
My moon-girl, London 
Call her London

I love her, London
Call her London
Forever, London 

I call her London……


Poem Details | by Suzette Richards |
Categories: christmas, daughter, journey, love, natural disasters, seasons, snow, winter, day, friend, christmas, daughter, me, time, christmas, daughter, day, december, friend, london, me, moon, time, weather,

SUMMER, WINTER SOLSTICE - 2010

It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standardsI had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape TownI had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocketOn the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas seasonA few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the RitzI chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the RitzThen reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solutionI could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of adviceMy daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashionLater that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flatI gladly acceptedShe is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.

screeching seagulls dive at sushi scraps on a plate - the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrivedIt was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departuresAt the airport everything was in chaosWe were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelledThis was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticketSome people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier). I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to LondonIf I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted itArriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the dayThis I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed themI phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the gardenIt was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
moths dart between moon flowers - lunar eclipse
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringingSleepily I took the callIt was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven amMy friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teethI offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time. The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinationsHeathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morningWe were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew memberWe were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished toBy the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among usA radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airportIt was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories
steep steps to flat shut out the bitter world - a heart pounds
**************************************************************** *The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solsticeIt was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia. "bitter" means piercingly cold....A term commonly used by Britishers... "flat" means apartmentThe Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or articlePlease see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku. Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haikuThe range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia


Poem Details | by A.O. Taner |
Categories: beautiful, betrayal, blessing, cheer up, city, confidence, cute love, deep, desire, earth, england, environment, feelings, garden, green, happiness, happy, i love you, imagination, irony, joy, july, june, london, love, love hurts, meaningful, missing you, nature, nice, nostalgia, passion, places, relationship, romance, romantic, sad love, seasons, simple, solitude, spiritual, spring, summer, true love, uplifting, vacation, weather, wisdom,

Jump

Chairs lined with stripes, 
green and white,
became ski jump ramps
for feelings, innocent and pure,
taking off from the edge
hoping to defy the gravity of fears

Only a lucky few made it,
others turned into tears
landing on the grass of Green Park
as the warm air was getting dark.
 



Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: abuse, age, beautiful, blue, city, crazy, cry, dark, evil, goodbye, horror, how i feel, london, lost, miss you, missing, missing you, night, poverty, power, psychological, relationship, romance, romantic, sad, sad love, sick, sin, stress, suicide, summer, sun, water, woman, world, write, writing,

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?


Poem Details | by Jeremy Jeffers |
Categories: appreciation, celebration, devotion, joy, london, love, pride,

Your Majesty

Your Majesty

Long have you reigned undeterred
While in the world Darkness has Stirred
The Light your Illuminating from your noble face
Shines out with your blessings and grace

As our queen you rule with poise
Within our hears a joyful noise
A song of pride and adoration
From a grateful people and grateful nation

So much weight with that crown you bear
But that great burden you cannot share
In your struggle we firmly stand
Wishing we could lend a helping hand

With out Sovereign our loyalties lie
And from out souls we shout and cry
"God save our great and gracious Queen"
The Best the world has ever seen

November 2014


Poem Details | by Thomas Martin |
Categories: beauty, london, love,

So Beautiful

you
are so beautiful even now
in memory
I regret leaving our letters
in a trunk in the north end


Poem Details | by Thomas Martin |
Categories: girlfriend, london, lost love,

buttermilk sky

buttermilk sky
clouds race the moon
london
walking through russell square
where we first embraced our love


Poem Details | by Laura Breidenthal |
Categories: absence, beautiful, best friend, change, cry, london, miss you,

The Love of My Life

The love of my life looked me in the eye
As if I was dreaming, he understood
Like the beat of an eagle's wing
I felt his pupils expanding in gentility
It was the very first day
I held his hand in mine
He remembered
He called me kind

The love of my life looked me in the eye
Like sun beaming from encompassed gloom
A feather flirting the fingertips
A splash of refreshing water
He understood.he understood
And every word was so clear and new!
It was the very first time
The connection sparked

The love of my life looked me in the eye
And then was gone in a week's time
His spirit slid away in bits, like sand 
Returning to distant lands
He never said goodbye
Those green eyes still ponder and shine
Leaving but remembering
All that was said

The love of my life looks me in the eye
As tears flow down my cheeks
I miss the gentle beat of the wing
I miss the way he speaks
The treasures we did share
Are now only a memory that I wear
The love of my life looks me in the eye
Only through a photograph.


Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: dedication, lost love, nature, nostalgia, places, urban, london,

THE CITY THAT CHARLES DICKENS LOVED

Let's stroll down the London old silent streets,
where the stones of cathedrals never age,
when the orange sun sets on the London Bridge,
and the grotesque, historical Buckingham Palace;
look down: the Thames River gently flows like perfect rhyme,
to revive with its waves' sound someone's lost dreams,
while lampposts await darkness to arrive...
isn't this the city that Charles Dickens loved as deeply as Catherine's face?
Pride of England: the glory of what it was and
still is for all the English that adore their land...
even Shakespeare with his theatrical mind, must have felt great emotion
in contemplating it near dusk to give him an instant surge of inspiration.



London's Dawn-7:40 pm


Poem Details | by steven cooke |
Categories: imagination, mystery, love,

Morning Blues of London

Morning Blues of London
by Steven Cooke

I see reflections in the window,
My coffee, my only friend.
Waiting for my journey to begin.

My suitcase, my only possession.
Yesterdays clothes, yesterdays photos,
Yesterdays dreams, all packed neatly for yesterdays man.

The whistle, slowly we move off,
Leaving yesterdays life.
As I ponder through my window,
I hear the track mocking,

“It’s all your fault”, “it’s all your fault”, “it’s all your fault”.

No peace for yesterdays man.
We pass fields of lavender, a reminder of when love was sweet.
I see fields of barley, and hay bales,
Where forbidden love was born,
Then ploughed fields, the furrows of betrayal,
Raking through my soul.

We pass a ruined castle, my dreams my hopes, all perished there.
Swept away by the forces of passion, 
Crumbling the walls of yesterdays love.

My window of torment, reveals all“please go away”
For I want Today’s window,
But my confession, rapes my mind.

You see my wife loves another,
My neglect, my fault, all the judges agreed.

Into a tunnel, a respite from all this.
A moment’s darkness.
Alone again, with my coffee.

I’m still, rolling down the track of despair,
The guard announcing the next station.

“All change at Piccadilly,”
“Connections for nowhere and oblivion”
“Platform Three”.

A rush of bowler Hats cram the doors,
Anonymous souls leading anonymous lives.

And me, with my cup of coffee, alone with the window,
I see reflections once more.
I lay my pen down, 
And I Thank god that’s not me.
Oh how I hate Monday mornings.
Time to leave.






Poem Details | by Denitia Boshoff |
Categories: farewell, friendship love, life, london, loss, love hurts,

Goodbye

It doesnt hurt anymore 
Like it hurt me before
So just walk out the door.

Love is a four letter word
Its a two edged sword 
That can scar you for life.
Love has a bitter sweet taste
Precious time that you waste
In a world full of strive.

Let it go let it flow off of you
Let it settle like dew
On a flower in spring
Wait for the sun to come take
All thats left of that ache
So your healing begings

And it dont hurt any more
Like it hurt me before
All i want is my heart
So it's best that we part
Goodbye


Poem Details | by Carl Halling |
Categories: dance, london, lost love, love, romance, sun, youth,

West London in the Sun

West London in the sun,
Last summer of the millennium,
We were in love
And having fun,
But fun wouldn't last too long,
Love didn't have too long to run.

You, a Dance kid 
Of sweet nineteen,
Your record collection 
Was Rock and Roll free,
Me, a relic 
From a bygone scene.

We had nothing we could talk about,
All you ever did was shout,
About the DJs you'd seen,
In Ibiza and Berlin, 
In the Babylons of Dance,
I didn't stand a chance.

West London in the sun
Last summer of the millennium,
We were in love
And having fun,
But fun wouldn't last too long,
Love didn't have too long to run.


Poem Details | by Carl Halling |
Categories: fear, london, love, love hurts, miss you,

Sabrina's Solar Plexus

"You were frightening, sinister,
You put everything into it
I took a step back
You get better every time
How good can you get?"
                                                                    
People are scared of fish eyes
They confuse, stun, fascinate
Coldly indifferent 
Fish eyes
Sucked dry of life fish eyes...
                                                                    
Sabrina was unselfish, 
Unselfconscious,
Devoted, unabashed, 
Spontaneous,
A purring lioness:
"Yes," she said, 
"I can imagine people
Wanting to possess you."
                                                                    
People are scared of fish eyes;
They confuse, stun, fascinate;
Coldly indifferent 
Fish eyes;
Sucked dry of life fish eyes...
                                                                    
Sabrina said: "I'm sorry;
I'm just possessive
I'm frightened of my feelings
You'll miss me a little,
Won't you?
You should read Lenz.
I'm sure you'd 
Identify
With the main character."
                                                                    
People are scared of fish eyes;
They confuse, stun, fascinate;
Coldly indifferent 
Fish eyes;
Sucked dry of life fish eyes.
                                                                    
Have I written about the 
Crack-up?
When I came home
Empty-handed
And I just couldn't 
Articulate
For latent tears.
But am I so repelled
By intimacy?
When will someone 
Get me there (the solar 
Plexus) as Sabrina said.

People are scared of fish eyes;
They confuse, stun, fascinate;
Coldly indifferent 
Fish eyes;
Sucked dry of life fish eyes.

(Thanks to the large quantity of notes I committed to paper while at college in London, my beloved college can live again through sundry writings forged out of them, such as the above, in which all names have been changed.)


Poem Details | by Carl Halling |
Categories: london, loneliness, lonely, longing, lost love, love, sad love,

So Lovelorn in London Town

From morn to friendless night
He tramps the streets
Just in case he might
Come across her he's a tragic sight
But he don't care
Love gives him might
He haunts the cafes and the discos
And the bars so lovelorn
                                                              
He knows that he won't find her
But he's got to keep on trying
It gives some meaning to his life
It gives some substance to his time
It is his motive and his project
And his plan so lovelorn
                                                              
He only met her once
But it changed his life
And it changed his type
And it changed his mind
                                                              
They say he once was
A successful man
But he threw it all up
As if he'd gone insane
And he took to the streets
And another man was born
                                                              
They say love comes but once
For some but when it does
It's like a mighty
Atom bomb inside
A disease that seizes
A gentle soul
And when it comes for him
He'd better try to hide
                                                              
From morn to friendless night
He tramps the streets
Just in case he might
Come across her he's a tragic sight
But he don't care
Love gives him might
He haunts the cafes and the discos
And the bars so lovelorn.


Poem Details | by Jamie Puhi |
Categories: angst, love

Outcasted Beau in Foggy London Town

A flame of enigma bellowed in the pit of his belly,

its' seraphic luster so stout.

It peered through the windows of his body,

through dark stagnant eyes that rest mounted on his face,

so carved and clencted.

I blanched in its' brillance.

That flame so haunting,

it raptured the faint walls that buckled my heart,

making it whole.

So cold in stanse.

But now its' pulsing lay intweened with another outcasted heart.

One that had been expelled from the keen and glaciared persons,

whom walked down the breech streets of a banning commonalty.

My arms knew exactly how to clutch him,

wrap him in a pillowed comfort that masked my flesh.

For my arms,

what rest in them was a soul whom alike was overcomed and mangled.

He rested in them,

so alive in fresh freedom of an apprehending paramour whom could nod and weep to the 
consternated apologues of his youth and future comings of a man.

And that's what traced the adulation in his blood.

Giving him the daring attuide to oust me bare,

broadcasting the truth that barked and howled behind false inhibitions,

a veal of empathy,

And if you're alone

and I'm alone

lets be alone

together


Poem Details | by Jeremy Street |
Categories: baby, baptism, love,

An American Bastard In London

Surfing her parks hanging out at the johns
Playbook play writes recipricated his southside
Invasion rock their dock in red rag love make-up wardrobe ?
We knew of a bit it was your solo show and she really likes her numbers
Makes the _itch feel somehow secure while their slobbering about someone's
Fornication playing songs as cutting lines desperation pegged in tears surfing this goodbye.
                       
                                                      


Poem Details | by John Beam |
Categories: abuse, anxiety, culture, emotions, fear, london, sad love,

The feeble Dawn and tea

The dark eerie fog and glowing gaslightsShe sits woefullyHe is gone again tonightRumors whispers of the terror, as she holds on once againMurder by night and a stirring muffin manThe dark old Victorian house creaks with fearA young lover grasps her pillow, shedding her tearNot far from Drury Lane and not far from the insaneHe has returned unnoticed and is the worker of the houseHe needs his rest, so She softly walks like a timid mouseShe tries to share but he doesn’t care.Your going mad womanThere is nothing there! Do you really know the muffin man or any man? Gone again, hehe, you can’t catch me.The nightly affair of terror returns, as her mind wondersSome imagination are easily dismissed but the flickering gas light, just doesn’t not quit, like a beaconing omen of their loveShe thinks to rekindle but there is a knock at the door The police have her battered husbandWe caught him red-handed for sureFears within fears, fears without, and fear without a doubtFears come in and fears go outDawn screams in the rain, as she finally goes insane - Based upon the abuse of gaslighting and actual murders in London.


Poem Details | by Jemmy Farmer |
Categories: dedication, love, happy, wedding, old, happy, london, old, wedding,

Will and Kate

There is a wedding in old London town
A handsome man and his radiant bride
Ivory silk made up her graceful gown.
A merry throng had gathered in the street
To see the carriage in which they would ride
They cheered to the rhythm of marching feet
The bells are ringing out the happy news
To tell the world a prince now has a wife
With waving flags of red, white and blues
The man who shall be king has found his queen
And together they stand in love and life
As one to face the joys as yet unseen
There is a wedding in old London town
The bells are ringing out the happy news


Poem Details | by Skylisha Vasquez |
Categories: baby, birth, happiness, happy, i love you,

London

January 8th 
Changed my life completely
You cried on this earth
For 2 seconds
And I felt whole
Everything else could've went wrong
But you were so right
You made things so bright
Erased all the negative
And made me think positive
It did not matter to me
Everything was just perfect
Freeze that moment
Embrace that feeling
Leave me there for life
She is my world
A new me,
A new beginning, 
I felt everything changed
It all was rearranged
Only because you were born
You became my favorite song
One that took me back in the past
And made sure I never made the same mistakes
You became my favorite cake
You were my favorite everything
I never wanted to leave your side
Because I knew you wouldn't
My baby, my world
My special girl
My second chance at life
To get it right
And this time it will be
Because for you
I will do anything

 Mommy


Poem Details | by Tracy Decker |
Categories: life, loss, love, life, london, love,

Waves

When London came, she dreamt of
days and nights upon the sand,
and promised but to fading breath
the banished ancient land
of fleeting chance and constancy
in all that can not hold,
and never interfering
but to let this life unfold.

When London came, she lay this
broken love upon the sand
and found it rough and callous
to the softness of her hand.
She bent to ancient rhythm
and the sweetest sin was sold;
she traded grace and glory
for a story never told.

When London came, she lay the heart
now dying on the sand
among that breath, its final hope
of careful days it planned.
She swore her love and freedom
to the life she would uphold…
but tender heart, in solitude,
remains forever cold.


Poem Details | by Pretend Its Poetry |
Categories: emotions, feelings, first love, i love you, light, london,

Stupid

It is strange to think,I have not seen you in a month.
 
I have seen the new moon,but not you.
 
I have seen sunsets and sunrises,but nothing of your beautiful face.
 
The pieces of my broken heart can pass through the eye of a needle.
 
I miss you like the sun misses the flower.Like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter.
 
Instead of beauty to direct its light to,the heart hardens like the frozen world your absence has sent me to.
 
I next compete in Paris.I'll find it empty and cold if you're not there.
 
Hope guides me.It gets me through the day and especially the night.The hope that after you leave my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you.


Poem Details | by Tim Smith |
Categories: death, london, love,

We Too Shall Overcome

Suspended
clearly looking above the guilt
held fast like a driving rain
penetrating
a soiled skin laced with sin

Innocence
celebration of love     lost
in shadows of the Thames
undesirable 
burnt to dust in shame

Gallant
hearts held as one
we too shall overcome
unified
in body and blood lies love


Poem Details | by Daniel Cwiak |
Categories: friendship, love, places, travelhome, home,

A VISIT TO LONDON

When first I saw London, it was in a book in the library
Then I came to England, and experienced its history.

The Bridges over the River Thames, like Sentinals over the city stand
While the long Buildings of Parliament lay beneath Big Ben's command.
The Palace Guard at Buckingham, who keep safe her Majestsy 
Marched so smartly on parade...and were a wondrous sight to see.

The Cathedral at Westminster, final home to Kings and Poets too
Along with Heroes of the Realm, are honored and given their due.
The bustling floors at Harrods, with all the things to buy
Finding the right one for Granny, too soon home we fly.

The imposing Dome of St Paul's, its Windows of Stained Glass
Will not be erased from memory, so long as life will last.
The Double Deck Bus ride to Picadilly or the Tube to Trafalgar Square
Where stands the Column of Nelson, rising into the air.

Standing on the deck of the Cutty Sark, with the Moth laying close beside
A trip to the Maritime Museum, and a quiet Hansom ride.
We'll not forget the Museum of Art, the British Museum, or the Rosetta Stone
We'll long remember Traitor's Gate, where Ann Boleyn once entered alone.

Within the wall of The Tower are kept the Jewels of State
Lingering still are the Memories past, of Those who here met their Fate.
Alas, we'll miss this Great City, as homeward soon we go
But it is the People we will miss most of all, the Londoners we've come to know.

Though we know not your Names, your Faces will with us remain
As too soon we fly back to our home, and oft think of you again.
These few lines cannot begin to tell, the Cherished Thoughts we keep
Of your City, your History, your People...across the ocean so wide and deep.

We hope You always will be well, in your Country on the Sea
As Friends we part your Historic Land, our Best Wishes and Prayers are offered for Thee!


Poem Details | by Phil Lator |
Categories: appreciation, bereavement, death, life, london, love, spiritual,

Brompton Cemetery

A place of sorrow that brings such comfort,
One of death yet cherished by the living,
The lines of tombs and ancient burials mean naught,
Compared to the hidden glories beneath the covering,
Tree of stately age and unerring beauty,
They're monuments stronger than man's folly,
Noble, ignorant of greed or vanity,
Pillars of strength and modesty.
The multitude of fragrant flowers,
Nature's opposite, fickle, lasting but hours,
Yet with childish innocence they persevere,
Providing a ray of delight to those near.
Dismiss not those proud, holy stones,
Placed by man with a plethora of moans,
The living's contribution to the dead,
In truth solace to those whose tears still shed,
Yet emotions these inscriptions can evoke,
Lasting memories of what a lover spoke,
A parent's pain filled croak,
A friend's sobbing, lamentable verse,
Or that of a sibling, through misery, stiff lipped and terse.
yet all these words were engraved with affection pure,
Symbols of humanity and what is more,
This place of bones and rotted flesh,
Cause of foreboding, fear and stress,
Was created and sustained by sheer love,
A force purer than the white plume of the dove.
And what of the Palladian portico,
As well as that majestic dome,
Protecting the intricate catacombs down below
Where the freed spirits roam?
The product of fine masonry, an honour to behold,
A once flaming art, now gone cold.
Under a particular arch, marks my spot
Of meditation and much thought.
Though this place of mine was not bought,
'Tis my one and only treasure,
Not of gold or silver fraught,
But fills me with the truest pleasure.


Poem Details | by Kishan sharma |
Categories: leadership, leaving, little sister, london, longing, loss, love,

The pain of waiting

Wait waiting for you to wait.
Come on,let me tell you once.
Love you, love you, we love you.
But you can not meet us once.

You have been irresponsible, irresponsible.
But do not come.
Why do not you.
You love us now.

Tell me today why do you have
Become a friend from me.
Or you are not with us.


Poem Details | by jan oskar hansen |
Categories: adventure, leaving, london, loss, love hurts,

philosophy giants

Philosophy Giants  

So here we are motley crew of Facebook writers
We rattle our cages spew our anger on the Persian rug-
In our imagination- but, in reality, spew against the wall
Of an Indian restaurant staying open late 
 Catching any passing trade
We think we are so clever expressing words with flourish
While we are on dimly referring to Nietzsche, a man
So scrupulous he thought truth was his domain, and we
Refer to this man from the safety of our democracy.
The books we read,
pulling us in the different direction
 seeking our ear till we think they speak the truth 
“Let God be dead” in the philosopher’s day so daring.
Philosophy is only needed for those who can`t let 
Go, the end of life means nothingness


Poem Details | by Jonathan McClean |
Categories: first love,

Love Lost London

How did we say it all began my love
In a church with a shot and an unnecessary glove
I was the marksman who caught your eye
I was the boy where you felt your heart lie

We’d sit for hours never whispering a word
Time together went so quickly, silence unheard
We would connect for hours on end
This was a true connection, not pretend

 Years on, we left Cape Town for London
Adventure and living together under one sun
Finding each other on our love journey
Navigating the waters that never seemed murky

We got married and then engaged
A different set of rules for the lovers of age
Travelled the world on our foreign invasion
Me, not making every experience an positive occasion

I let you down so many, many times
Pulled you into a world of my temper crimes
This was not the place for you
Destroyed our love uttering more than a word or two

I should have loved you more
I failed you so many times before
I exhausted all my second chances
Now rejecting my all and last advances