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English poetry

This article focuses on poetry written in English from the United Kingdom: England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland (and Ireland before 1922). However, though the whole of Ireland was politically part of the United Kingdom between January 1801 and December 1922, it can be controversial to describe Irish literature as British, and for some this includes authors from Northern Ireland. The article does not include poetry from other countries where the English language is spoken.

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Dark alley Always running\ See the Light Never reaching

Contributed by Le Témoin Mort

Good enough Apathy Synonymous evils (By Empris' Durden)

Contributed by Empriś Durden

The Cannon and Toyota companies are named after Japanese gods We summon them every time our fat, fleshy American mouths yearn to consume How ironic (By Empris' Durden)

Contributed by Empriś Durden

Japan 1 Plastic kitty, Birthed of Sanrio, hello. You are not Japan. 2 Label: MADE IN CHINA In Tokyo’s largest toy store Must stop chuckling 3 Consumers grab at Cannon and Toyota gods How ironic are we Forever 1 On Tokyo streets, Bright purple dreams, old and new. Forever electric. 2 On a gnarled bench, Old man sits forever. Konnichiwa, he whispers. 3 Your words are tea bags, Steeped in hot tears forever, Forced down my throat. Green 1 Ethereal green hill, Are you real or dream? Grass gilded in peace. 2 Smooth green tea ice cream, Shrink me, I’ll dive through your Glassy frozen skin.

Contributed by Empriś Durden

great pain births great art only great pain (By Empris' Durden)

Contributed by Empriś Durden

Neon pink lakes really do exist. If you dive in them, Will your lungs shade pinker? (By Empris' Durden)

Contributed by Empriś Durden

A Letter to all of my little sisters (By Empris' Durden) That piece of silver glass is not a “mirror.” When you shout for equality, When you correct sanctioned evil, When you demand him to stop, Then feel flames of ugly rage lapping at your irises. When you nod to the invisible, When you open your mouth in solidarity, When you steady a trembling spine, And feel laugh lines squeeze you so hard they could lift you up. When you lay your soul bare, When you wear your retainer, When you tell a joke that makes only your ribs guffaw, And he shrugs, That’s when you’re beautiful.

Contributed by Empriś Durden

Oatmeal (By Empris' Durden) When I was younger, my mother fixed me apples and cinnamon oatmeal. Yes, the instant variety. I always hated it – but I ate it up. Primarily because she said, “Eat it, or eat nothing. In this house, we clean our plates.” I always dismayed, “The apples are not real. They are freeze dried.” Now – I have no problem shoveling down blueberries and cream, strawberries and cream, bananas and cream, and the like -- Without a second thought. Why is it that when you bite into dried fruit you know and admit that it is fake? But when it is in your Oatmeal, you pretend? You bite into it and know its fake. But you nod and pretend it’s a real apple. After the first few bites, it gets easier to swallow You can convince yourself —even believe --- that it is good. The truth is, I like my fruit as I like my embellishments/stories: whole and to the side And I like my oatmeal as I like my truth: unsweetened, unflavored – plain.

Contributed by Empriś Durden

I dream of combining unnatural colors and nature A common style, no? Painting Pink clouds over a believable blue sky A single pink cloud in a church A lime green but accurate tornado I cry colors Black rain falls up from me (By Empris' Durden)

Contributed by Empriś Durden

Pristine white façades A few chips strategically placed To make it seem more real Behind the illusion the nothingness rots away The wood holding up the giant picture rots away (By Empris' Durden)

Contributed by Empriś Durden

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