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Best Patrick Sutton Poems

Below are the all-time best Patrick Sutton poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

The Owl

Hey there Owl sitting up in that tree,
What are you doing looking down at me?
So with a quick little wink and a short little sigh,
that old Owl just replied,
Who?
Well I don't see any mice or rabbits or bears ,
no Eagles or Hawks or Robins, any where.
No Deer or Elk or even a Moose,
So then; yes Mr. Owl I was speaking to you.
That old owl just turned his head,
looked the other way and calmly said;
Who?
So with a bit of disgust I started again,
naming off animals, and  even some kin,
I don't see an Elephant or a Zebra or even a  laughing Hyena,
I don't see my brother or sister or even Aunt Myrtle,
Why I don't even see a slow crawling Turtle.
That old Owl turned his head about and looked straight at me,
and with a bit of chagrin in his eye which I could see, said;
Who?
I could see I was getting no where fast,
and this questioning I was doing was not going to last.
So I decided I would end it and just walk away.
I was wasting my time trying to get him to say;
anything but,  
Who?
So I turned and started to walk away,
when I heard these words, in a wise old way.
"I am the wisest of all the birds, because I listen to all I've heard.
I don't interrupt and I wait my turn, 
these things are what make me the wisest bird." 
I turned back to him and with a wink and grin,
I simply said;
Who?


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Friend

As I was swimming this morning in the ocean of life 
the Sun danced waves brought an unexpected delight.
An acquaintance from the past, 
which I used to call friend.
It staggers the mind, 
how my mind comprehends.
We talked of the years, jobs and careers
homes and families and friends.
then we departed 
just like we had started
with a nod of the head 
and a shake of the hand
I'll see you around
if I see you again


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Me, Myself and I

I live together in a lonely state,
watching the movement from a far,
disappearing into the hidden places, 
where no one else will trod.
I give the day it's daily due,
by showing up for work.
my mind tells me,  what the hell,
by retreating into the dark.
Once again, I am with my friends,
Me, Myself and I.
Lost to the world that shut's us in,
just to hear life pass us by.
I find dealing with some so intolerable that I could scream.
but here I remain;  living someone else's dream.
So back to closed doors, 
I push once more,
retreating to find new hope.
I call out to whatever, 
looking for an answer.
I'd be better off calling the Pope.
So back to the place's where comfortable resides,
watching it all pass by,
waiting for the calm to arrive once more,
with Me, Myself and I.


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Tree

                                             Tree
                                       you grow so tall
                             so green and wonderful and bold
               your braches  look so chaotic        yet so perfectly shaped.
            You give me the air I breath,        and the shade I need,    to keep me cool on hot summer days.   I love to just sit under you     and watch your sparkling        leaves glisten in the light of the sun. Sometimes;   my whole day  can be wasted just noticing in amazement the awesome power of you. You withstand the wind and the rain and the snow almost as if it's not a chore at all. I think to myself how neat it is to be you,   to see   centuries pass by    without a word;   you deliver  to the newest   generation      admiring     your qualities.   I really like how      every day   you reach for the light of our star and never get to your goal,
  but that doesn't keep you from trying.  That's what more people in this world need,
dedication,  commitment, understanding of what life gives us  and how we receive it.
       You know tree;   you give me hope  in the way we      as humans can view life.  There is  a possibility   that we              might just have a chance.        
                If more people would just stop       and see your accomplishments 
      It might just lead to something wonderful.     Maybe even inspirational.     
                But I'm not the type of person   that will get my hopes up.  
                        Perhaps in that      is where the human
                                problem lies?    We believe    that we are 
                                        the ultimate   earthbound entities. 
                                        When clearly          it is you.
                                       You live longer grow taller
                                  breath in that which animals breath out.
                                 You use the earth for growth instead 
                          of covering up your waste for the next generations to take.
                          You supply the earth with nutrients for the ground
                   and atmosphere for the air. You create your own rain and 
   shade so you don't burn. You give shelter for mankind, and home   for                    animals and birds        You are what man-kind will never be.
                 A Tree                  A Tree                            A Tree


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Song of Life

In a murmur of souls from time unknown.
So soft yet so strong it shook the ground beneath me.
I stopped to see what the sound was they were making?
The sound started to have rhythm. 
Words started to come out of the murmuring.
Wave after wave of what started out as noise, 
soon turned into soothing words of melodious understandable joy.
I thought to myself, I know this and I started to join in.
Rivers of blood have flowed before us,
To find us here today.
Our King has brought before us,
This wonderful glorious day.
We will sing it from the mountains,
Glory be You.
Yes we will sing it from the mountains,
Our King has brought us through.
Yes we will sing it from the mountains,
Christ Jesus brought us through.
Yes we will sing it from the mountains.


The crowd started to slowly separate and move away from me,
As they started to leave I could here them in the distance.
(Yes we will sing it from the mountains)
I was all alone standing there with the song of life still ringing in my mind.
Then I heard a soft but strong voice say,
Would you like to join us? 
I cried out, yes Jesus! 
Please; fill me, let me know your way.
I was instantly back in the middle of the friendship singing.

Salvation he has shown us,
On This wonderful glorious day.
Yes we will sing it from the mountains,
Christ Jesus is the way.
Yes we will sing it from the mountains,
For now and ever more.
Yes we will sing it from the mountains,
Christ will always be our savior. 


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Toddler

The joy that comes from a year old child,
that runs through the house with arms stretched out, 
in a never ending smile.
The things they find,
 to clash and bang,
are the same thing's kids have found for generations it seems.
Mom's pots, an old broken down box, 
a door works exceptionally well.
A little mind;  with little time;  to sit and watch the world go by.
too much to explore, lots of adventures before.
collapsing into nap time.


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

The Old Cowboy

Old and stooped over, left without closure, 
that life would soon take away,
an old cowboy's friendship, 
with the land and the passion, 
that ranching has brought to this day.
The last of his breed,
a proud type of steed,
head strong and set in his ways.
Mind strong as nails, 
but a body full of tales, 
of a youth lived out on the range.
A time when,  
a cattle drive would extend,
from Billings to old Cheyenne.
Nights on the range with cattle and friends,
just memories in an old man's brain.
His old friend Charlie, 
took a bit of barley,
to load him and get under way.
With a whinny and a whine, 
Charlie knew it was time,
from the tear on the old cowboy's face.
An old empty barn,
with an old dusty saddle, 
of an old Cowboy's ways.
are all that's left, 
of a time that's past,
and a salute to an old Cowboy's praise.


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Home

As I've grown older I have come to realize that even though Wyoming is a beautiful State and my life is here.
My Heart will always belong to Up-state New York. 
The peace and quiet of the tranquil rolling Adirondacks that so few in this world will ever experience. 
I went yesterday before my flight just 100 yards from my sisters house and it was like a whole different world. the soft wet leaves of a fresh fallen rain made the walk silent enough to walk right up on a squirrel and not even scare him.
No Squirrel stew for him though, he just ran about like I wasn't even there. 
I know as I grow even older that life will keep with me, 
the Beautiful sight in my mind and remind me of when I found my roots, 
and how amazed I was when I found them.


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Rett Syndrome

A little child ,
normal and wild,
ready to attack the world.

Then Rett moves in,
and trouble begins,
giving disability to a once normal child.

A little child, 
now trapped from the miles,
of an active life with friends.

not able to discuss,
that which is a must,
for every other child their age.

They're in there you see,
but can't get relief,
from the prison known only as Rett.

one single Gene,
is all it seems,
chaining this child up inside.

We wait for a cure,
while we hold back the tears,
and pray our child see's the day.

when poems like this,
will not exist,
and Rett  a thing of the past 
gone away.


Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Getting Old

As I sense the daylight strut through my mind,
I open my Squint's just enough to find,
one more day on this circle called Earth.
only 20,125 since the day of my birth.

I pull myself up with creaks and groans,
not stopping once until I've reached my thrown.
Start, Stop, Start, Stop life has played a trick it seems,
making this function that should be simple,
most difficult for me.

My friends all tell me age is just a number,
and I couldn't agree more.
20,126 and counting as my feet hit the floor.
Start, Stop, Start, Stop prostate exam on the 5th,
why, this growing old isn't all that hard as I take one more barium sip.

The hair is diminishing on the top of my head,
but growing in my ears someone once said.
The wrinkles on my for head that once never showed, 
20,127 just a roadmap to go.

It use to be my youth was free, careless, casual, and wild.
now in my old age I'm sorry to say;  I 'm out dated, out witted and out styled.
so to be apart of the elderly,
you have to be a bit bold.
just get use to the fact for the rest of your life,
you'll always be getting old.


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