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#british poetry
veronicavervet · 11 months
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A poem i wrote whilst i was travelling home 🪷🌵🌴
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feral-ballad · 2 years
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Carol Ann Duffy, from Rapture; “You”
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lepetitdragonvert · 4 months
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THE MOON MAIDEN’S SONG
Sleep ! Cast thy canopy
Over this sleeper’s brain,
Dim grow his memory,
When he wake again.
Love stays a summer night,
Till lights of morning come ;
Then takes her winged flight
Back to her starry home.
Sleep ! Yet thy days are mine ;
Love’s seal is over thee :
Far though my ways from thine,
Dim though thy memory.
Love stays a summer night,
Till lights of morning come ;
Then takes her winged flight
Back to her starry home.
Ernest Christopher Dowson
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g-h-o-s-t-2000 · 5 months
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short poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, English poet (1809-1892)
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thejewellerybox · 2 months
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I Wanna Be Yours pendants, Stephen Webster x John Cooper Clarke, Valentine’s Day 2024
18ct recycled yellow gold, enamel, gemstones, £2,500.
'...‘I Wanna Be Yours…’ is a jewellery collection created in collaboration with beloved British punk poet and general genius, John Cooper Clarke.
Inspired by Cooper Clarke’s famous poem “I Wanna Be Yours” where everyday objects are metamorphosed into displays of love and devotion, the collection is visualised in the form of a pendant, designed to reference John’s vinyl records and iconic pocket watch.
Each pendant features a one line extract from the poem etched in coloured enamels and is available in eight editions, including a version to pen your own ‘I Wanna Be...’...'
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November, from The Procession of Months (c.1889). All the poems were written by fifteen-year-old Beatrice Crane and illustrated by her acclaimed artist father, Walter Crane.
source: contentinacottage via pinterest
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[text id: "November" by Beatrice Crane:
Now chill & grey NOVEMBER
Comes slowly o'er the plain,
Drearily the winter wind
Sings songs of future pain.
Wrapped closely in deep grey,
She scarcely will let pass
A little ray of sun
To cheer the sodden grass.
She scatters with her hand
The leaves dried up and brown,
The few that yet remain
From gay October's crown.
Her eyes are dark & sad,
Sad for the dying year,
And often in the mist
There falls a silent tear,
Beneath a cheerless sky,
The trees are standing bare;
The fog has risen thick,
And she is no more there. /end id]
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permeate · 11 months
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Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
_ when we two parted, in silence and tears
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gennsoup · 11 months
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I'll rewrite this whole life and this time there'll be so much love, you won't be able to see beyond it.
Warsan Shire, Backwards
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pagansphinx · 5 months
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Kate Elizabeth Bunce (British, 1858-1927) The Keepsake • 1901 • Birmingham Museums Trust, U.K.
The painting is filled with Arts and Crafts motifs, popular with the Birmingham School of Art at this time. Ethel Newill who modeled for the figure on the right was a friend of Bunce's and came from a prominent artistic Birmingham family. Katie Palmer is the figure second from the right holding a staff and was also a friend of the artist. Margaret Louisa Wright modeled for the throned figure and was Bunce's cousin. It is recorded in her diary that she was asked to sit replacing an ill model.It is based on a poem by Rossetti and was first shown with this quotation:'Then stepped a damsel to her side,And spoke and needs must weep:'For his sake, lady, if he died,He prayed of thee to keepThis staff and scrip'.
- arthur.io (digital museum)
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fyeahtimwalker · 4 months
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Kae Tempest by Tim Walker for Vogue UK, December 2023
Styled by Edward Enninful.
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ivan-fyodorovich-k · 3 days
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. . .that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
from "Ulysses" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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liquidgirl13 · 6 months
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feral-ballad · 2 years
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Warsan Shire, from Our Men Do Not Belong to Us; “Souvenir”
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xxtheratzonexx · 19 days
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Warning by Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple. With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves.
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired.
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells. And run my stick along the public railings.
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.I shall go out in my slippers in the rain.
And pick flowers in other people's gardens.
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat. And eat three pounds of sausages at a go. Or only bread and pickle for a week.
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry.
And pay our rent and not swear in the street.
And set a good example for the children.We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised.
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
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unabashedqueenfury · 10 months
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Reign 2013-2017/01-09
Mary and Francis
Dear love, for nothing less than thee
would I have broke this happy dream;
it was a theme for reason, much too strong for fantasy,
therefore thou wak'd'st me wisely; yet
my dream thou brok'st not, but continued'st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
to make dreams truths, and fables histories;
enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best,
not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest.
(JOHN DONNE, from "The Dream")
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lionofchaeronea · 2 years
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"Long Barren" -- Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree, My God, for me; Tho' I till now be barren, now at length, Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee. Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Tho' I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne. Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Vine of sweet fruits, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Of thousands Chief, Feed Thou my feeble shoots.
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The Meditation on the Passion, Vittore Carpaccio, ca. 1490
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