Best Blair Poems


Premium Member Sunday Morning, 1891 - Edmund Blair Leighton

O' lovely maid, in solitaire
 so fair of cheek and silken hair
A wistful look upon her face
It matters not that she is late

This Sunday morning at the gate
she halts as if to hesitate
and looks around with hopeful chance
as if to take a second glance
for someone whom we cannot see
who stands in shadows out of view
to join her in the morning dew.


Perchance her love will join her there
and stroll with her in autumn air
She waits a moment at the gate
with silver threads laced over blue
a shawl of pink and flowered hat
in pastel shades of vast array

Blended scents of wild bouquet
where grasses grow beyond the road
in golden waves of amber hue
Flowers sprouting here and there
A steeple sits upon the hill
A stroller on his way to church
admires with secret glance

I wonder if she'll stroll the path
or if she'll turn the other way
to walk until she finds a place
to sit and pray, or fall from grace...

Or worship God in her own way
embraced by Sunday's autumn day



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Inspired By Isaiah Zerbst's Contest: Edmund Blair Leighton Paintings

Premium Member The Day I Met Cherie Blair

When you have spent most of your life,
Suffering from panic attacks, Agoraphobia, and strife,
The last thing you need to happen to you,
Is for your glasses to suddenly break in two.
Only an hour before you meet Cherie Blair,
Help, what a total nightmare.
Then on the next table you spot DAVID BLUNKETT,
As you sit there filling your face with junket.
There is always someone Worse off than you,
Especially at this type of do.
Then she comes over, CHERIE BLAIR, and starts to talk to us.
It feels like a dream, we are chatting to, at the time the Prime Minister’s wife,
Telling her all about my broken glasses and strife,
Telling her how I can hardly see.
She is so nice, as nice can be.
She’s done her homework, She knows what we were all about,
She impressed us, without a doubt,
I just hope I didn’t stare,
The day we met CHERIE BLAIR.
© Pat Dring  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Edward Blair Leighton: the Windmiller's Guest

How blessed are the green hills below
Upon which doleful eyes are cast
And the quiescent river flowing  by
Contented each day going pass 

She is barred from being in his company 
As she belongs to another
Yet, love is alive in her elaborate dreams
Where they are free of her brothers

In dreams they are riveted in discourse
Of love in hearts and all it brings 
The run down old windmill is their cozy home
Where white doves courting nest and sing

Soon, time draws nigh when she must wake
The thick, distant fog rolling fast
It hangs like gauze over the face of the sun
She is saddened her dream can't last

Her eyes flutter open, they fill with tears
In vivid recall there they stand        
Deeply conversing on the threadbare deck
His eyes reflecting love so grand 
~*~
02/22/13

Note:  For Isaiah's Edward Blair Leighton's Painting Contest-"The Wind miller's Guest"


An Open Invitation To Tony Blair - Part 1 of 2

Tony Blair, Tony Blair, where have you been? 
You’ve not been coming to London to visit the Queen
But you had seemed so close, meeting weekly when you were PM
You with your cheesy fake smile, waiting around 

For her to put on the right crown 
I wonder all those times you met if she bothered or care or know
Just what kind of bloke you always were
Despite Alistair Campbell’s keep clean ‘Teflon Tony’ plan  
The Queen clearly wasn’t born yesterday 
Or was she happy just to ride the wave of someone else’s ‘popularity rate’
Remember the New Year at the O2, Oh!  Those heady days....

Sorry Tony, no more invites, now it all about Wills n’ Kate.....(and boy is that working well!!)
In popularity stakes you have been right ‘royally’ replaced 
And the cause?  I think it might now be the sight of your face, still free
One that for far too many, the world over, spoils every day

Did you think ‘Project Tony’ would work? 
That you could f*ck us all up, make the world worse 
That all we could do in response was curse?
While you rode off into the sunset with a SERIOUSLY richer future than you had before 
Although I don’t think ‘Anthony’ that you were ever poor 
Thinking yourself immune from prosecution for your actions before
Christ knows you spent enough of our tax payers’ money trying to making sure
And then went straight into a top job working for business, meddling in lands ravaged by war 
Seems that’s what you were born for

To appear now and then featured in the press from afar
Making comment, sticking your nose into our country
Which you have made such a mess by favouring business
The rich now richer and the poor having so much less 
Nothing was sacred to you, not even the NHS
Remember how it used to be before ‘Tony’s Targets’?

Did you ever envision a time when you would be personified with devils horns 
And under threat of citizens arrest by those who think you guilty of war crimes 
Although unlike some of the countries in which you now shimmy and slide  
We would at least grant you a fair trail 

(Please continue to part 2 of 2, thank you)

Premium Member Christopher, Blair and Claire

CHRISTOPHER, BLAIR AND CLAIRE

Young Blair was a shy boy, 
Somewhat a nerd,
He just simply could not make a friend,
The nursery school teacher,
Who was my mum,
Enjoyed her job so, 
She was never glum.
Christopher was the lively one in the class,
There was a seesaw and jungle gym 
On the grass,
Teacher told Christopher to please 
Play with Blair,
Christopher asked, may I also bring Claire?
Claire was Christopher’s imaginary friend,
She was real to Christopher, 
He didn’t pretend!
Break time, teacher and helpers were about,
As two dozen screaming children ran out!
Christopher very mischievous, 
Thought of a plan
Quite excited, he said to himself, I’ll do it 
Tomorrow if I can!
The next day,
He took something out of his school case
Put it in his pocket and showed a bland face.
Break time was very soon 
Christopher thought,
And hid behind his back what
He had brought!
He whispered all, to imaginary Claire, 
Don’t be afraid silly,
You sound too goody, goody and frilly!
He went up to Blair,
And put out his hand,
Do you really want to be my friend?
Then eat this, Blair desperately wanted 
To be his friend,
So took a very big bite and went quite red
Blair spluttered and cried,
And gave everyone, a huge fright.
Teacher ran to the scene and found a 
Half bitten chilli
Lying on the ground,
But Christopher was nowhere around,
He couldn’t be found!
I’m on fire teacher, the poor 
Young boy said,
As his nose also bled!
Teacher had already phoned 
The local doctor,
Christopher was now hiding, the little actor
Blair was asthmatic, which was another 
Contributing factor!
Plump Doctor Dawson, said Blair 
Would be fine,
Teacher did a headcount as the 
Children fell into line,
She had a lost child, was about to
Call the police,
When Christopher appeared,
He wanted to make peace!
I’m sorry teacher he said, but girls 
Are really naughty,
Claire made me do this terrible deed, 
Which was grotty!
Christopher then offered Blair a hand, 
Covered in grease,
The two boys wanted their cold war
To cease!
Being yet a child, and still with innocence,
Christopher said to imaginary Claire,
Come over here, and play 
With me and Blair! 

This is a true Story

Blair

through being with you
i learned i was selfish
even when i was selfless
it was all about me
through you i learned
if its easy it probably isnt worth it
and sometimes the tough times make the good shine
through being with you
everyone heard my songs
of the dreams of spotlights
because of you i have learned to be strong
well learning
i see my faults and flaws now
and look for ways to better myself
I now know i have to look at what i have
hopefully forever
and know when we argue
i learn what i had now its gone

you have been a target of much of my long burried pains
and you heal me and teach me to heal myself in soo many ways

im scared i am the worst thing to happen to you
all the things i put you through
because of you
i know what a true man is

but will i ever measure up
and grow out of these little boy shoes?


Tony Blair the Tammy Wynette of British Politics

Sometimes it's hard to be a Prime Minister 
Giving all your love to just one man (George Bush)
You'll have bad times, and he'll have good times
Doin' things that you don't understand
But if you love him, you'll forgive him
Even though he's hard to understand
And if you love him, oh be proud of him
'Cause after all he's just a man.
Stand by your man, give him two arms to cling to
And something warm to come to
When nights are cold and lonely.
Stand by your man, and show the world you love him
Keep giving all the love you can.
Stand by your man.
Stand by your man, and show the world you love him
Keep giving all the love you can.
Stand by your man.

(Sorry Tammy...!)

Blair Lies Other Peoples Kids Die

From Birmingham to Baghdad, Blair sent my son to war
to battle in a conflict based on Bush's baseless tales.
The bombs fell  like the lies from politicians  mouths
and the sons and daughters of ordinary people died. 

Blair sent out our soldiers without the slightest care 
As it will not be Tony Blair's sons lying on a desert floor.
With weapons of mass destruction that only existed in Blair's mind
and promises to Bush we will stand by your side. 

UN resolutions lay broken because of Blair's lies. 
Just like boys and girls who's fathers died. 
Soldiers sent to war with weapons that did not work.
and with a ratio of 1,000 Iraqis to every soldier who died. 

Don't let politicians bang the drums of war 
as it will be your sons and daughters that die in unjust wars.
Vote them out of office tell them where to go
release the doves of peace, and spread your love around the world.

He Loves Me Lots (For Blair)

he loves me...
he loves me not!
he loves me...
he loves me lots
poor little daisy
missing petals
how i miss him and he never seems to know
i only i could squeeze him
kiss him 
touch him
just find some way to let him know

He loves me
he loves me NOT!
he loves me ...
he loves me LOTS
i miss him soo much my heart is broken
and all i can do is weep
why won't he love me
why won't he come back to me?

your the love of my life
he loves me
your my ultimate desire
he loves me not
you are my favorite fantasy
he loves me not
you are my sugar sweet coated candy fair
he loves me lots!

I want you right now
twice as nice
im soo sorry for all the things i said and did
you have to realise
he loves me
i have a mental disability
he loves me not
i have codependant lovehungers 
he loves me
i miss you baby your my hero
he loves me lots

sitting in the daisies
wishing for the best
the vote of the flowers
andi am their pest
of i love yous
i love you alot
i love you forget me nots

Billionaire Blair and Poor Piper

BILLIONAIRE BLAIR AND POOR PIPER

Ice cold world, late night rain fog,
Thought I saw, coming at me, a lone thug.
Certainly a sin for a billionaire like me going to meet
a friend at late hour, walking off this street.
Then I met old wraggled poor Piper,
Out of the fog, crawling up on me like a viper.
Then I said to homeless poor Piper:
"Aren't you cold outside, you're not even wearing a coat!" 
He replied, "I don't have a coat, 
I'm used to rocking my own boat.
The cold got nothin' much on me, I'm used to it.
Enough fire in me to power my head to my feet".
I said, "Ok.Wait for me, I'm going home to get you a coat." 
My words of assurance kept Mr Piper's hopes afloat.
Got to my penthouse and got really busy there,
forgot about the poor man who's lurched in dispair.
The following morning, I remembered poor Piper.
I rushed out to locate him but found Piper's corpse
Due to the cold, and then from my eyes tear drops.
But Poor Piper left me melancholic short notes:
'When I had no warm clothes, I had mental strength 
To fight the cold, survive and go on at length.
But when you promised to help, I clinged to your promise 
And it killed my mental power, I couldn't but compromise'.
The corpse gazed at me, frozen to death with horrifying stare.
It's worthy to say that Poor Piper 
wasn't killed by the cold but I, Billionaire Blair.

Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©August2022.

Lionel Blair

We say farewell to Lionel Blair
immaculate and debonair
who danced around the stage with flair
inspired by stars like Fred Astaire.

26.01.22

Blair Minty Wilson

This is a story of wee mental Blair minty Wilson, 
he was a father a brother a nephew an uncle a cousin and one true  friend, 
he was loved by everyone that he did meet, 
His mental health hid from all to see,
And the world was cruel to what he was going through, 

On the outside he was full of joy, and he was so proud of his baby boy, 
no matter to where he went, he took his dog jack walks through hills and glens,

He was some kid that was so kind, on the outside he smiled,
But had loads on his mind, 
No matter where minty went, 
he was a funny lad and loved to the end, 
we will keep him close to our hearts, 
and he will never ever part, 
Such a shame you could not speak, to how you felt so we could not see, 
wish you opened your heart, and we knew you would never have to part,
but we hope your with your mum and your grandparents love,
till we meet again r i p our friend,
in the church they bellowed out kodaline tune, 
that touched our hearts too, and at the grave we said goodbye, 
with a tear in our eye, 
but we know you will be there, and hear us all in our prayer, 
till we meet once again, sleep tight minty till we meet again,
© Davy Young  Create an image from this poem.

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