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Best Poems Written by Tom Hyam

Below are the all-time best Tom Hyam poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

My Vastly Underrated Pear

We all enjoy the apple, grape and cherry
We all eat the orange, as if it was air
We never forget our favorite berry
But what about the bulging pear?

As I remove the banana from the cut glass
I leave my poor little pear
like countless others, in this worldwide farce
It lies alone in its cut glass lair

I taste the banana, long, firm, almost white
But I see it's mournful green spotted eye
I have finally realized the lonesome plight
Like some old, forgotten half baked pie

I place the Banana down upon the table
and I grip my long forgotten Pear
Like a scene from an old story or fable
I engage the fruit in my lustful stare

I pierce the skin with my long sharp teeth
I hold the fruit, now naked and bare
I re-discover the joy that lied beneath
I am sorry, my vastly underrated pear.

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

Passing

To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice

The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content 
With the debauched path she hath went.

Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon

I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu

You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed

She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat

Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse

But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

The Infamous Scottish Muse

The time has come your passing has happened 
Your desire to live was never dampened 
The great Scottish debate for you to stay or go
I screamed yes, but the haggis of your heart said no 

The split of our nation represents the split in my heart
But now the time has come and we must part
Much like our dreams of reaching the sixth form debate final

“Page 32” you crowbarred into conversation
infuriating Ash to the point of self-immolation
your self important boasts of superior knowledge 
turned my my weakened soul into watery porridge 

You were not a stereotype, despite what many said
Unlike most Scots, you ate more than simply fried bread
Your challenge with crackers so lascivious  that I lost my thread
And since then I yearned for a way to do more than simple observe your bed

But your aggression was endearing, cutting and clear
Tearing opponents to shreds, speaking to all that will hear
But I was behind a glass wall, simply shedding a tear
As a limp invitation to a party was the closest I could near

I sit here now and remember our lark
Our time together, characterized by a battle with a shark
The verbal brutality was shocking that situation was stark
But your retorts were quick witted, but often loaded with snark

This took so long to write as my heart still bares scars
An open mouth like yours could give hour long seminars
Yet you still saved me from being bundled into one of Bennet’s cars
Yet I must hope that we meet again, underneath heaven’s stars

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

The Physical Embodiment of Aisle 49

Poverty grot and grime
Have existed throughout time
A place where intellect and truth cannot shine
All of this is embodied on Isle 49

Segregated due to types and shapes
Men acting like thoughtless apes
Not even allowed to eat the smallest of grapes
All of this is embodied in Aisle 49

The occasional safety rail
Offers no protection from the emotional hail
And the sound when Turbo starts to wail
All of this is embodied in Aisle 49

The convergence of two great areas 
Starting the creation of diseases like Malarias
Reminding me of great operatic arias
All of this is embodied in Aisle 49

Oh Iku why have you forsaken me
All I  ever wanted was to make you see
That I had one ready.

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

4000 Characters

To summarize your life
In 4000 characters (including spaces) 
Seems hard at first

‘There are too few spaces’  
‘There isn’t enough room’
‘How can I show all facets of my extraordinary life’

Then you realize
Your life is not as exciting 
As you often portray

18 years of existence
Is crammed into just over one page
Then unknown people judge you

But Some people should feel happy
That they have more than enough space.
I certainly don’t.

Then they chose to accept you
not on your personality
But on your words

But frankly 
It's probably for the best
For people like me

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

I Wish I Could Use Special Characters Here

Thankyou for reading
I bet you are glad you did
But I wouldn’t be

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

The Ptfa Quiz Night

 The harsh light
A grim sight
No help for our plight
On the PTFA Quiz Night

The scratch of a pen
In groups no larger than ten
five intelligent men
All from phnom penh

I wanted this to be a joke 
but we are surrounded by serious folk
I try to sup my coke
The all stare, to ensure I never spoke

The sweat slowly drips 
My Brain searching for tips
My stomach is doing flips
Wishing I could abandon this sinking ship

Finally as free as a kite
My mind is wracked with spite
people feeling the full force of my might
All on the PTFA Quiz Night

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

The Room of Study

To sit in the confines of knowledge
At a desk the colour of porridge

An air of unescapable heat
At a desk the colour of wheat

The lure of the Mail Online
At a desk the colour of brine

Looking at Jamie Kirby's broken leg
At a desk the colour of regret

Details | Tom Hyam Poem

An Empty Hole

Barren and cold but never sold
waiting for something to fill up
it's yearning need.

Empty but deep needing someone to keep
it warm and tender to it's needs
while it rests on it's knees.

Like old Mother Hubbard, it always stays covered
hollow and bare, just wanting a stare
to keep the solitude at bay

Just wanting to be warm, wanting another storm
to stop the drought of feeling
like this.