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Best Poems Written by Judith Palmer

Below are the all-time best Judith Palmer poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

My Granny

My Granny

My Granny's name was Edna
But no one could say it
So they called her Bonnie
And she was

My Granny watered her ferns with Disprin
Every Saturday morning
She said it made them flourish
And it did

My Granny slept with four pillows
Every night
She said it stopped her snoring
But it didn't

My Granny drove a yellow Anglia to town
Wearing her best hat
She said it went too fast
And it did

My Granny loved her Sherry a lot
All the time
She said that she didn't
But she did

My Granny only saw happiness in the world
She took me everywhere beautiful
Whenever she could
And she did

My Granny lost her husband at 44
She never remarried
She said she wouldn't
And she didn't

My Granny loved me very much
And told me all the time
She said I would be a writer
And I am

My Granny died in hospital
From Pneumonia at 84
She said you've been a brick Darling
And I was

My Granny was a special person
She was kind to everyone
I told her I loved her whenever I could
And I always will

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

Blue-Eyed Boy

I am crying
For
The little blue-eyed boy
With bright red hands
Freezing in the pram
Whimpering, squirming
While mummy
Texts on her mobile
Ignoring him
Freezing inside a gaping plastic bubble
On a windy wet station platform
Today

Not one word of comfort
Left her lips
Not one eye contact
Did the babe
Born
Of her vagina
Nurtured in
Her
Womb
Receive

What right do you have
To 
Call yourself mother
An ape
On a leash
Would serve
You
Better

Disgusting woman
Benefit grabber
Disposable shopper
Resentful back stabber
You
Made the child
Give it your best
Whoever said
You can detest
A miracle
Seed by your passion divided
A trillion times and more
Yet you
Disregard
It.

Give something back
You spiteful taker
A pair of mittens
You heart breaker
Purchase disposables
At your peril
Wash some napkins
You lazy devil.

No mother you
No church pew
Has seen your shadow
Let alone you
Your distain
For your own flesh
Will with you forever rest
And when he is older
You will regret
The object of
His detest.

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

The Namib

If your love was like the Namib;
Mountainous and bare,
Would you dig deep for water?
Would you scour the ridged crevasses there?
For something that moved,
Within and without,
Trying to remove, any and all doubt.

If your love was a deserted plain;
Parched and dying,
Would you search in vain –?
Weather-worn, beaten, sand-blast hewn;
Pecked by vultures – circling,
Stung by bees – swarming,
Gouged by the horns of a great Wildebeest;
Devoured in the jaws of a mighty hyena,
cackling, with delighted spite at your plight.

If your love was arid;
barely breathing,
Would you imagine
A mirage of pelicans, seething,
Pink to the horizon, hungry and feeding.
Could you still dance to the silvery moon,
Sway and kiss the Milky Way, and swoon.
Could you make a sand castle stick;
Or would it fall through your fingers –
Quicker than quick.

If your love was a desert;
Would you hide like an ostrich, in fright
Or, chatter like a baboon,
through the night
Would you roar like a leopard
Looking for it’s spots
Or fight like a lizard
who knows what’s what?

If -
Your -
Love -
Was -
A-
Desert -
Cast in Stone.
Deserted,
Desolate,
Designed to destroy;

Would you lay down on the scorching sand; 
To wither and die.
Or mutate to survive – why?
Would three raindrops;
Dew-soft and honey-sweet
licked from your skin
Make a river that flows, 
wide, wider and thin

If your love was brittle and dry;
Would several clouds in a clear bright sky,
Make you cry, allay your fears,
Or bring you to your knees.
Would you rest on a rock to renew your will,
Would emptiness give you impetus to fill?
If the suffocating heat of relentless rejection;
Stifled your breath,
Would your mind be plotting,
an early death?
Would you quiver like a zebra,
Stampede like an ox,
Sting like the scorpions tail in a knot?

Or - would you 
Soar away like an eagle –
across the skies;
Coo, coo as a dove perched on high.
Find an oasis calm and green,
And squat like a quail, soft and unseen.

Think about life, and it’s true meaning.
Be still, patient, accept;
That glorious seeing.
An open field;
flower-filled and breathing.
Life lived in a reality of beauty and feeling;
Hung out boldly with the stars,
for the dreaming.

Forget about love;
lost in the desert;
The impressions and depressions,
of the changing landscape.
Blood, shed from wounds;
in the Valley of Death,
The fire ants have taken,
to their beds.

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

Mr Perfect

Mr Perfect

He was
Everyone said
-Except himself
Mr Perfect.
The one who got everything right
Always won
Never gave up
Stood firm in his principles.
So they drilled him
In sensitive places
Like his heart
And he broke.
Mother, I, Me
Will pick up the pieces
Glue the shapes
Together.
In all the wrong places
Higgeldy 
Piggeldy
And back to front.
Because imperfection
Is more beautiful
Than Perfection
In a child.

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

Indian Summer

Indian Summer

The poppy said "No",
The nasturtiums said "Wait"
The seedlings were jumping at the gate;

"We have to get through Winter first,"
The old oak spoke, and everyone burst.
The pansies nodded in assent,
With a great deal of sentiment.

He looked down sadly at his girth,
Smiling wryly with perfect mirth;
"Ten more years is all I am worth".

He glanced at the herbs tenderly wilting
And spoke as though his heart were melting
"We have to be patient and wait for Spring,
And there's the catch, it's a learning thing".

"I won't make promises I can't keep
And we all know Winter will put us to sleep".

Summer will rise again, in all it's glory,
And that for now, is the end of my story.

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

My Wellies

My Wellies

You would not recognise me today
My skin is olive when not tanned
My eyes are avocado
As God planned

You would not recognise me today
My head wrap keeps the cold away
In France they would sing and dance
And there would be no second chance

You would not recognise me today
My sense of humour kept at bay
Unless beneath my coat you see
My royal crown adorn Wellies !

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

South Park

I am standing 
  at the kitchen sink.
Your house, bling
Don't know why
  but I can't, think.
I am playing by
  the rules
But they keep
  changing
I have lost
  my tools.

Where did I go
  I was here
Last time
  I looked
Before
  my essence
  preci'd into
  sudsy soapy bits
Down the hole.

It wasn't a rhyme
  about Alice
  it was me
  straight up
Against malice.

Do you prefer 
  the girl who cries
  in her pud
The one you left
  in South Park
She died
Deleted
  in the dark.

It's a part of living
  to clean up
  my giving
I'm getting better
  with every word
Clearing my head
  setting the sword

I throw them down
  one by one but
Paired is better
  ask Noah
The go-getter.

I am making space
  to take in more of me
And I know
  I am not
Out of my tree.

Never changing
  for hatred again
No one can cause me
  any pain
I'm so cut up
  there are no more bits
Big enough to fit
  inside the slits.

Ill-fitting pieces
Meatballs from mince
Don't wince,
  I know
Analogies so.

I hear with my nose
  and smell with my teeth
And just can't find out
  What's beneath.

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

If I Were

If I were an English mum
I'd roll my baby in the pram
To the Costa Coffee Shop
Even in the rain

If I were an English dad
I'd wave them off with glee
Hop into my sports car
And date my secretary!

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

The White Knight

The White Knight
Intrepid and sly.
Has a screw loose. 
Aptly,
Rattling, obsessively.
Somewhere,
In his shattered avatar.
He believes that he is a god. 
A god of women.

Of needy goddesses who are full of holes, 
  curves, dips and lips. 
To fill. 
With white. 
Of course.
Beautiful promises and lies, 
  morph like thunder flashes, 
and showers of fireworks shot with fear and pain, 
screaming, burning evil. 

He'll lick their pain to get the licence to bed them.
Over. 
And over again.
It's not consensual.
Without. 
Truth.

The couch.
The basin.
The carpet.
The bonnet.
The pathetic whimpering.

The controller waits in silence.
Believing. Becoming,
The toxic messenger.
His alibi. The dark
perpetual screaming one.
Surrounded by demons in negative blues.
The grim reaper possessed will dispossess him.
Over and over, 
As he dispossessed her
Over and over.
The game they play.
To throw others away.

The sociopathic discarders
Survive a disguise of lies
To help you
From imperfection,
To dazzling beauty
With a final plunge
Into destruction
Deftly manipulated 
 to engender guilt, suicide, 
And feed deranged ego's.

His joy.
Her happiness.
Never amiss.
His bliss.
Her switch.

Details | Judith Palmer Poem

Tube Ambition

Tube Ambition

I wanna be one under,
I bin' thinkin' it's the safest bet;
I haven't the skill to get any thrill,
From being on this planet.

Yea, I done tole me Ma,
She said "yor jes like yor Da";
"He went an don it and how
We slum it, go on, leave me now."

I wanna be one under,
Famous, y'know, for a while;
Can see me photo, in the Metro,
So I'll try to keep on a smile.

Yeah, don' say I'm not ambitious,
I may be on the dole;
But I can get in them history books,
By bein' in a hole.

I wanna be one under,
I tole my friends the same;
But now the blasted tube's on strike,
My plans are done today.

Yeah, I used to be a no-gooder,
But now I found what I like;
I'm cyclin' through the streets of London,
Thank crikey for Boris's bike !

I don' wanna be one under,
What, me, I'm under progression;
I've seen the worst, now time for best,
Forget the bloody recession.