People queued for miles, people queued for hours - almost for a entire day - just so that they could make their way to Westminster Hall in London to pay their respects to the late Queen Elizabeth II as she lay-in-state in her coffin by bowing their heads and saying a solemn goodbye to the only Queen of England that generations of people have grown up with and who people young and old respected, loved, cherished, and will miss more than anyone can ever know. People queued through the darkness of the night... people queued through the bright sunshine of the day... people queued along with thousands of others - including world leaders and celebrities - because they wanted the opportunity to be in the presence of the body of The Queen and so that they could give this extraordinary woman the gift of their time... people queued, people waited - which the British public are famous for doing better than anyone, it has be stated - and after they finally got to see the flag draped casket of The Queen, some people were genuinely moved to tears because the experience overcame them and moved them in such a powerful and unexpected way. People queued to be a part of history... people queued to share this momentous time in the history of the British Royal family, the history of the United Kingdom, and the history of the world itself, with ordinary members of the public who felt a genuine connection and an affection for The Queen the like of which no other Monarch - past, present, or future - will ever know, will ever feel, nor will ever see... people chose to use their own two feet - as their path took them alongside the River Thames and the landmarks that can be seen - to give something back to the woman whose face still graces British stamps, British bank notes, as well as photographic and physical accurate artistic representations of this once in a lifetime icon who will never be forgotten; and if those people from all around the world who made the choice to travel to London and gather together in rememberance and in solidarity with the members of the Royal Family and the new King of England, King Charles III, were asked would they do what they did again, I believe almost all of them would say and agree that they believed that by standing in line with thousands of other people they were doing something important, impactful, and incredible by queuing for The Queen.
British
My Poem “Walk On Water”
Today, pretty much everybody
here in the UK, is literally
having to “walk on water”…
let’s just say that the weather
could be a lot better than it is
and if you are “caught short”,
and you are not at least
carrying an umbrella,
then it goes without saying
that you are going to have to
either stay undercover
for as long as you can,
or, if you do need to go somewhere
in particular, you may have to
go “hell for leather” and run
as fast as you can –
as if you were some kind of
soaking-wet cheetah.
We here in the UK could talk adnorsism
about our eccentric and ever-changing
weather – in fact it is favourite
subject of small-talk…
we here in the UK can see
both the beauty of a summer’s day
as well as, on occasion, the water-droplets of a rain storm –
however, most stiff-upper-lip British
people would much rather observe
rain falling while looking out of the window,
perhaps from the comfort of their own homes,
instead of having to walk out of their front-door
and immediately have to find their footing,
while trying to keep calm, carry on,
and simultaneously having to
follow the example of the Messiah
and walk on water.
My Poem “Brum”
I love walking around this city…
I live walking from one side to the other –
from the China Town on the East side
to the Jewellery Quarter on the West Side –
and exploring all the sights and sounds
that make this bustling city
the city of inclusion that it is,
that has waiting around every corner
a wealth of inspiration
to fuel the imagination
and drive the pen of any poet…
there are mesmerising murals
of artistic expression to be found
painted upon the walls.
There are diamonds of beauty
to be found in even the darkest
of alleyways and streets…
there are towers of metal and glass
standing alongside old brown brick
buildings that used to house
so many renowned staples of
manufacture and innovation
in many different and varied forms –
from transport to metallurgy –
that originated from the heart
of this great country
and to this day still drive
the engine of this country.
There are places of natural beauty…
There are places of sacredness…
There are landmarks that define this city
which every visitor is advised to see,
document, and share that cannot
be found anywhere else –
for example: the bronze statue of
“The Birmingham Bull” that stands outside
one of the entrances to
the Bullring shopping centre,
the sprawling canal system,
the world-renowned Birmingham
Indoor and Outdoor Markets,
as well as all the other quintessential
gifts that the city of Birmingham
adds to the British people’s
diverse mixture of history, culture,
languages, accents, and individuality.
Birmingham has been the birthplace
of many public figures who have risen
to a state of recognition over the years…
ever since it was founded
Birmingham’s many city streets
have been where all kinds
of people have entered the public
imagination and have made
a name for themselves…
Birmingham has always boasted
having several unique individuals
who have never been afraid to make their
uniquely sounding voice be heard
far and wide, morning, noon, and night –
and every day I have witnessed
the people and the different quarters
of this city sparkle, shine,
emanate, and embody what
puts the “Great” in Great Britain –
the city that I know and
which have walked many miles around:
the city of Birmingham.
My Poem “Raining June”
It’s Summer now…
It’s the month of June…
Usually at this time of the year
when you look up at the sky
all that you can see is bright blue
and there isn’t a cloud to be found –
however, this year, today,
here in the U.K especially,
all that you can see is grey clouds
and all that you can feel
when you are out and about
walking around
is the wet droplets of rain water
assuring all concerned
that this Summer there won’t be a hosepipe ban.
Every year it’s a different story…
In years gone by you could
set your watch to the knowledge
that May to September
the weather was going to be nice
and dry and perfect for all those
activities that you necessarily
could not do while you were
inside your house –
but, like most things,
steadily the climate of the world
has changed and it has become
a lot more unpredictable.
Right now, people should be
wiping their brow of sweat
and complaining about how hot it is –
however, instead, people are
complaining that they are getting
soaked by the deluge of rain
from above and from the splash
of the puddles when cars
race past them at high-speed…
Right now, it should be as hot as hell –
however, at the moment,
there is a constant stream of droplets
from this mass outside shower –
during which the soles of shoes
are slipping,
people are sliding,
and cars are hydroplaning –
and instead of it being flaming
this June looks to be one
when almost every day
it is going to be raining.
My Poem “Eccentricities”
One minute its raining,
the next the sun is shining…
one minute there are clouds up above,
the next there is blue-sky all around…
I have to say that the weather of the UK
is just as eccentric
as the people who populate
this beautiful and wonderful country…
from one end to the other,
in every direction,
the villages, the towns, the cities,
the people, and the weather
of Great Britain
are not shy in the slightest
about showing their indefinable
and their uniquely-British
ever-present eccentricities.
My Poem “Rainstorm”
The raindrops are falling…
The thunder is rumbling…
The people are running for cover…
The people getting soaked
are wishing that they had an umbrella…
The music of a band continues playing…
The children are having fun puddle-jumping…
The British public are yet again
at the mercy of the eccentric
British summer weather…
The streets are slippery under-foot
and they are as shiny as a mirror…
The sound of thunder
again echoes in the clouds above…
The rain continues to pour –
however, after taking a breath for a minute,
everybody steps out again
and braves the constant shower
of this prolonged
Great British rainstorm.
markthepoet.me 