Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places

Best Patrick Sutton Poems

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

View ALL Patrick Sutton Poems

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,
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;
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;
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,  
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;

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


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

Night Thoughts

I awoke this morning in a sheeted sweat,
from a dream I had last night.
A perfect world in a perfect way,
was traded as part of my life.

I sat there thinking for quite some time,
about the trade I'd made.
So would this time in my mind, 
do nothing more than fade; away.

In a hollow lump in the middle of my chest,
A warmth began to rise.
I cried out for mercy from the one above,
my brain wants me to compromise.

A life time I've wondered just why it is,
my brain and heart can't meet.
A penny for my thoughts, is about all it's worth,
but even a penny is now obsolete.

So back into my sweaty sheets I crawl,
to try and sleep once more.
As the clouded thoughts of my brain and heart,
bring about again this conflicted storm.

So can there really be any measure in me,
as the wheels grind brain cells.
I guess I'll find out in the end,
while arriving at heaven;    or hell?

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

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

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


Here In the wide open Wyoming wilderness,
My eyes capture what can't be enhanced.
A campfire crackling beneath a star filled sky, 
time that stands still as consolations pass by.
shadows of sage that dance beyond campfire light.
A realization of the treasure it is;  this Wyoming life.
The plateau breezes that naturally eases,
the mind of this callused man.
Take's me back to a time now long forgotten,
when solitude, was the attitude,
of every Nation, Tribe and Clan.
With the stillness of the night,
you can still hear that plight, 
through the cry's of the coyote howl. 
So it seems; that all poetry brings, 
is solitude that will last just awhile.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Life's little things

With silence quite astounding,
In pleasurable surroundings,
enthralled with all my mind can store,
watching the tops of the trees,
once more.
Like a calm ocean undulating,
to the motion of the earth.
Lying on my pine needle floor.
Watching light make it's way once more,
falling down like lasers beams
finding its way through canopy seams.
to enhance the colors inside my dreams,
Part of life's most astounding things

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem


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.