To Be English

[heslopian]

Third edit:
To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire,
the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down.

Our lords and ladies,
sacred relics meant to be admired but nothing else,
now flash their artifacts, for a price,
a shallow attempt at brotherhood,
while their suits of armour,
coats of arms, history of oppression,
crumble beneath them
as sand through an old man's fist.

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors,
revealing their plunder, at last, to the unwashed hordes,
to we peasants, we cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my £1.99 ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our Lordship's bones
the path towards enlightenment.
Here, the worthless - race, class, "Britishness" -
are replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul, and death,
that truly united kingdom.

Second edit:
To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire,
the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down.

Our lords and ladies,
once kept from the public like sacred relics -
meant to be admired but nothing else,
are flashing their artifacts at us, for a price,
in a shallow attempt at siblinghood.
They are one with their suits of armour,
their coats of arms, their history of oppression,
crumbling beneath them
as sand through an old man's feeble grasp.

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors
to the unwashed hordes, revealing their plunder at last
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my £2 ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our lordship's bones
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, class, "Britishness" -
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul,
and death, that truly united kingdom.

First edit:
"I've got it now. I have to say - just look at these bloody rocks - "This a good place," and everyone laughs till the tears come." - Graham Greene, The Comedians

To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire,
or the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down.

Our lords and ladies,
once kept from public view like sacred relics
meant to be admired but nothing else,
are flashing their artifacts at us, for a price,
in a shallow attempt at faux-siblinghood.
They are one with their suits of armour,
their coats of arms, their history of oppression,
crumbling beneath them
as sand through a baby's fist.

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors
to the unwashed multitudes, revealing their relics at last
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my £2 ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our lordship's bones
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, gender, "Britishness" -
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul,
and death, that truly united kingdom.

[Wildcard]

"I've got it now. I have to say - just look at these bloody rocks - "This a good place," and everyone laughs till the tears come." - Graham Greene, The Comedians

To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire, --maybe it is the avatar, but I get all Star Wars here-- for me it is a good thing because of the connection
or the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down. --Heh? When I think of an abandoned castle, I think of trumpet vines taking it over.

Our lords and ladies,
once kept from public view like sacred relics
meant to be admired but nothing else,
are flashing their artifacts at us, for a price, --ahh the double entendre, nicely done
in a shallow attempt at faux-siblinghood.
They are one with their suits of armour,
their coats of arms, their history of oppression,
crumbling beneath them
as sand through a baby's fist. --why a baby? If weakness is what you see, I'd suggest an old and feeble hand to drive the wilted/faded/crumbling mechanism

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors
to the unwashed multitudes, revealing their relics at last
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw -- next three lines are my favortie
into my £2 ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our lordship's bones
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, gender, "Britishness" -
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul,
and death, that truly united kingdom.

I had little to add, but this caught my attention.

There are a lot of wise phrasings and beautiful language used here, but it felt more like a commentary done by a poet than a poem-- hope that doesn't sound insulting.

>< Thanks for sharing and feel free to ignore me.

[billy]

"I've got it now. I have to say - just look at these bloody rocks - "This a good place," and everyone laughs till the tears come." - Graham Greene, The Comedians

To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire,
or the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down.

Our lords and ladies,
once kept from public view like sacred relics
meant to be admired but nothing else,
are flashing their artifacts at us, for a price,
in a shallow attempt at faux-siblinghood.
They are one with their suits of armour,
their coats of arms, their history of oppression,
crumbling beneath them
as sand through a baby's fist.

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors
to the unwashed multitudes, revealing their relics at last
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my £2 ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our lordship's bones
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, gender, "Britishness" -
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul,
and death, that truly united kingdom.

just saw this jack, will give a reply tomorrow as i have to cook din dins

[heslopian]

There are a lot of wise phrasings and beautiful language used here, but it felt more like a commentary done by a poet than a poem-- hope that doesn't sound insulting.

>< Thanks for sharing and feel free to ignore me.

I could never ignore you And yes, your commentary remark makes sense and doesn't sound insulting, just honest I like your suggestion about the "baby's fist" line. An old and withered hand might be more effective.
Regarding the first verse, the castle hasn't been abandoned, it's been removed completely, and the brown grass is what it once sat on.
Thank you for your insightful feedback, Wildcard

just saw this jack, will give a reply tomorrow as i have to cook din dins

Cheers, Bilbo

[ray]

Mostly very good, I think. Laughing at the aristocracy is a bit like shooting fish in a barrel, but needs must.
I don't find the Graham Greene quote especially apt.
I'd run the title into the start of the poem

To Be English

is to be the shadow of an Empire,
or the depressed brown grass that remains - "or" isn't necessary.

Our lords and ladies,
once kept from the public like sacred relics -
meant to be admired but nothing else,
are flashing their artefacts, for a price,
in a shallow attempt at faux-siblinghood

"from the public" has a better flow, I think.
Isn't it "artefacts"? "at us" could be cut.
Do you need "faux"? shallow attempt gives the gist.

I'd use "unwashed hordes" for a rhyme with doors and try and avoid repeating "relics".

I like the last 3 verses less than the rest, more commentary than description. But I enjoyed the whole thing very much.

[cidermaid]

Your poem has really caught my attention and i wanted to try and offer some feedback for you. The tone seams to one of alternating depression and contempt which sort of oozes out in an apathetic dribble through the words....which i think is very apt for the subject and story of the poem. For me it is a sad poem made typically British with self depreciation.

I was not really sure why you had included the quote though. i did not add anything to the read for me.

"I've got it now. I have to say - just look at these bloody rocks - "This a good place," and everyone laughs till the tears come." - Graham Greene, The Comedians

To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire, I like what I think you are trying to say here but not sure what image "Empire" sums up, i get an emotion of percieved greatness or reach of power, but if feels a bit vuage. This said I think it is worthy and should be kept
or the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down. I really liked this image and it forms a strong picture of derraliction where once there was power and infulence and compined with Empire above think this makes for a very good opening.

Our lords and ladies, Lords N Ladies has a double image of English nature and historic peerage and works on both levels for me. As it enhances the picture of the above castle / seat now taken over by nature
once kept from public view like sacred relics
meant to be admired but nothing else,
are flashing their artifacts at us, for a price,
in a shallow attempt at faux-siblinghood. ? siblinghood as a word choice but no alternatives to offer.
They are one with their suits of armour,
their coats of arms, their history of oppression, Not my strong point to comment on punctuation but would it read better with a semi-colon after arms instead of a comma?
crumbling beneath them
as sand through a baby's fist. Made me think of a crumbling sand castle, but I agree with wildcard about turning this into an image of an old hand.

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors
to the unwashed multitudes, revealing their relics at last These two lines made me smile, nice
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my £2 ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become. I like how you build the layers of emotion and disparaging tone through the poem

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our lordship's bones The lead in form this line to the next feels odd. ? the use of: "the path towards"
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, gender, "Britishness" - Did not feel that gender was needed
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul,
and death, that truly united kingdom.

Overall i really like this one and think you have aptly expressed a common missgiving and thought in this nation.

[heslopian]

Thank you for your kind and insightful critiques, ray and cidermaid I did dither over that opening quote, and after reading your feedback I've decided to delete it. The idea was to convey the notion that a place is so rancid that claiming it's not is funny. Greene was talking about Haiti, though, so... yeah, I'll delete it
"Empire" was an allusion to the British Empire.
I'll use some of your suggestions in a moment, guys, as they're really good, and thanks again.
ray - I looked up "artifacts" on Google and both spellings are apparently acceptable.
cidermaid - would "class" work better than "gender", seeing as it has more to do with the poem's theme?

[billy]

sorry for the wait i'll concentrate on the edit.

really enjoyed the read apart from the last stanza though i think it may just be me. i saw that part as a bit over the top. mainly the problem i felt the poem had was wordiness and the need for a few more good images.
nothing major though i did leave a lot of black text

great effort jack
thanks for the read.

Second edit:
To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire, i like the opening but it feels a bit wordy a suggestion would be [To be English; a shadow of an Empire,] not sure the title being the same as the first line helps the poem, why not remove [to be english from the first line?]
the depressed brown grass that remains solid image that shows apathy
when a castle has been torn down. feels a little weak a suggestion would a stronger image than torn down, a suggestion be along the lines[when a castle is murdered ](word of choice instead of murdered)

Our lords and ladies,
once kept from the public like sacred relics - all that's required here is [sacred relics]
meant to be admired but nothing else, no need for meant
are flashing their artifacts at us, for a price, [now flash], no need for [at us], as it's a given
in a shallow attempt at siblinghood. i think sibling hood feels forced, brotherhood would work as well, no need for [in ]
They are one with their suits of armour, no need of they are the one, start off with [With]
their coats of arms, their history of oppression,
crumbling beneath them
as sand through an old man's feeble grasp. not a great simile

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors love it, good change of pace.
to the unwashed hordes, revealing their plunder at last, i thing you could switch the front and back parts of this line around to better effect.
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood,
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw feels a little preachy
into my £2 ice cream, two pound (would work on more than level)
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces. should it Be mopy?

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our lordship's bones Lordship's
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, class, "Britishness" -
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul,
and death, that truly united kingdom. would [that truly united kingdom] look better on it's own line?

[heslopian]

Thank you for your great feedback, Bilbo I'll return to this poem later and use a lot of your suggestions to make a third edit, as they really strip away the fat wonderfully.

[serge gurkski]

Heslopian wrote:
"To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire, "

I am very much impressed by that and this stanza of course too:

"The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my two pound ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces."

---

The English People are just as fine as any other People are.
But they did in fact loose a global empire.

Why am I
(as certainly not an English) here?

Fo many reasons but maybe mostly because I like Edmund Burke.
And I am not (just as he was really not really)
an enemy of the French Revolution. ,-)

[StevieFinn]

A spit of a poem that I like - Looking forward to the the final version.

[ray]

Little things make a difference. For me the opening stanza is so much better without "or" at the beginning of the 2nd line.

[heslopian]

Thank you for your comment, StevieFinn, though as this is Serious Workshopping we need a few more specifics

Thank you for pointing that out, ray, I'd actually forgotten to delete "or" when I made my third edit. I'll rectify that now.

[StevieFinn]

Thank you for your comment, StevieFinn, though as this is Serious Workshopping we need a few more specifics

Thank you for pointing that out, ray, I'd actually forgotten to delete "or" when I made my third edit. I'll rectify that now.

[StevieFinn]

I just meant to say that I feel that after writing only 3 poems I do not know enough in regard to the craft to offer any serious criticism. If I did I don't think it would be helpful or constructive, I am after all only sucking my 3rd little egg. I should probably stay quiet until I gain some understanding of what I am attempting to achieve. I am very long in the tooth to be an apprentice, but that's how I feel.

[heslopian]

All serious criticism is helpful, Stevie It's useful to know what every reader thinks about the poem. Nobody expects long, scholarly, nuanced essays - if they did I'd be fucked - but just an honest reaction to the piece and a few things about it that you liked and/or disliked.

[billy]

some good edits throughout the poem jack specially the second stanza
i'd advise you out it to rest for a month and come back then, so as to not edit it to death.

Third edit:
To be English is to be the shadow of an Empire,
the depressed brown grass that remains
when a castle has been torn down.

Our lords and ladies,
sacred relics meant to be admired but nothing else, no need for [meant]
now flash their artifacts, for a price, should it be artefacts
a shallow attempt at brotherhood,
while their suits of armour,
coats of arms, history of oppression,
crumble beneath them
as sand through an old man's fist. a good edit on this stanza. i'm glad you got rid of siblinghood.

Lady Sue and Lord Reggie are opening their doors,
revealing their plunder at last to the unwashed hordes,
to us peasants, us cretins, with our cameras
and fashionable shirts.

The slow death of the aristocracy,
who bathed their whores in Ireland's blood
and clothed them with its skin,
is a great comedy at which I guffaw
into my two pound ice cream,
while clutching a program
covered by their mopey faces.

The royals remain, beneath a pretence of "tourism",
courting grubby dollars and Euros
like the streetwalkers they've become.

With each dying spasm comes an ascendance,
a paving with our Lordship's bones
the path towards enlightenment,
where the worthless - race, class, "Britishness" -
is replaced by what marries us all: the impermanent soul, and death,
that truly united kingdom.

[Wildcard]

If I may, I'd like to just say that while I haven't found anything else to add to the process I think great work is being done here.

Some really good edits, Jack. I'm really impressed with this one

[heslopian]

I looked up "artifacts" on Google, and both spellings are apparently acceptable - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artifact_%28archaeology%29
Thank you for your additional feedback, Bilbo I'll take your advice and let this one breathe for a while.

Thank you, Wildcard, though credit for those edits belongs to the lovely commenters, yourself included

[serge gurkski]

I think that artEfacts is better because that is correct in Latin

---

Oh, and by the way I like (;-) ) this poem a lot: Fine use of language!