Thank you Roger!
Luis is a kind, generous and gifted man.
Kathleen is everything I'm not, yet we share many things. She causes me to think and challenge.
I feel so honoured to share many of my Adland friendships.
We are honored to have your Friendship
Its wonderful to see you have written so many poems this year. They are truly incredible. Did you write the "English" one, you thought you may tackle last year?
Love & Hugs
Sincerely,
Terry
[Hi]
Yes Terry,
I never had time to Edit it.
I posted it in my poetry forum back last year.
Whilst acknowledging with pride my Irish roots in the very northern tip of what is now Eire it is my Englishness born of three mixed generations that I wish to proclaim.
You see, that with all the years of conflict and suppression and border disputes that were the norm for centuries between England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, they ended the victors.
Yes, England dominated in politics and sovereignty but, in the end lost it’s true identity. Our neighbours remembered and celebrated their individuality while we spent so much time “being British” that the English just forgot they were English.
It’s time to be proud again.
Here is my humble poem that says so.
Totally unedited, this is a work in progress.
What it means to me to be English
By Roger Macdivitt (c) October, 2008
How do I even start to define,
how lucky I am to have the life that is mine?
No need to speak a foreign tongue,
English was mastered whilst I was still young.
Despite the struggle with the rules and the spelling,
The number of speakers just keeps on swelling.
I can still dine out on the fame of my nation,
Quoting author and statesman and global navigation.
International sports in wide variety
Were born in this land, both small and mighty.
Industrial triumphs and mechanical inventions,
Were tested, improved with the best of intentions.
The beauty of nature in variety is seen,
In such a small island with hills and rivers and valleys between.
From the sunnier south to the rainier north,
The fertility of nature is in spring bursting forth,
The lambs and the calves on the hill and in field,
Are the newest of resident, their agility revealed.
Oh England, Oh England please never let me forget,
The times when these shores were frequently beset,
By all manner of nation with with domination in mind,
Repulsed, suppressed and eventually to find,
A nation of Romans and Angles and Norse,
Of Celt and of Saxon on foot and on horse.
The Scots and the Welsh proclaim national praise,
While the English, a flag or a rose gently raise.
Oh why can’t they see, that it matters to me,
That we don’t shout ENGLAND, birthplace of the free,
Like our American friends who learn at the knee,
To pledge to the flag, the nation, the decree.
We were in at the of birth of democracy,
Retained our sovereign, through popularity.
MagnaCarta, ahead of its time,
Gave freedom and wealth on a scale never seen.
But still we seem too coy to celebrate,
Being English, it’s more than just GREAT.
Forget all our cottages and cricket and soccer,
Forget Big Ben and buses and Liverpool rocker.
We are more than that but we only remember,
When, with our backs to the wall, no surrender.
An island, a nation, a people with trust,
When asked to defend, then defend her we must.
Not just the empire of old, or our sacred culture.
I love her to death, love her past, love her future.
Like others before, who felt compelled oft to roam,
It’s always good to see sight of my home.
I lay claim to my birthright, my place in the world.
Now much more humble, but my flag is unfurled.