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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

Sir Robin Williams

Another Jester has left the court.
With a standing ovation the media sorts, 
through years of marvel and contort.
But alone with his thoughts and demons caught, 
pushing him over the edge.
Stained by the fame to grow the man, 
to height's beyond his Brain.
Now to the finale of a once groomed galley
where only a star now remains.
The never reached ceiling's,
of the last great comedian, 
Known only as Sir Robin Williams.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem


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


R-ed is the start of the rainbow's arch, while,
O-range is there to compliment, the
Y-ellow which is the brightest of all the rest, and contrast nicely with,

G-reen,   right there in the middle

B-lue is the preferred color of God, while,
I-ndigo  mixes blue and red, to bring out the,
V-iolet which captures the end.

So the next time you see a rainbow in the sky, 
you'll know the colors and the reasons why.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Hot Melted Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas, 
 And all through Wyoming. 
 I was looking for another way, 
 To greet all my homies. 

 I in my jacket. 
 Ma, in sub-zero, 
 We drove to the local sandwich shop, 
 For a hot melted hero. 

 Two for the road, 
 I exclaimed to the gal. 
 Make it snappy, 
 Before Ma gives me hell. 

 We were back on the road. 
 Quicker than quick, 
 Then Ma yelled, STOP! 
 They forgot the Garlic. 

 So back to shop, 
 We rushed right away. 
 Only to find, 
 They done closed for the day. 

 Well, need be I say, 
 Ma was more than a little upset. 
 So she wrote "You A$$H@les" on the window, 
 With her hot melted wreck. 

 I watched Ma kicking and screaming, 
 as the officers dragged her away. 
 So I waved and I shouted, 
 "They say you'll get out, on New Year's day. 

Guess you won't be needing that Christmas present? 

I'll exchange it for ya. 

Love ya Ma." 

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Summer Sex

When the air is calm and the music is soft,
Lay me down with your seductive thoughts.
Give me pleasure rivaled by age,
in a poets love story, 
of an unwritten page.

The glistening of our bodies, 
in the summer moonlight,
The meshing of motion,
the melding of minds,
the steamy vapors rise into the air,
as the ecstasy of the moment builds to ensnare.

Captured together in passionate delight,
pushed to digs and scratches and bites.
Primordial pleasures, 
from the beginning of time,
And a climatic crescendo, 
of breath-taking, pulsating, heart-stopping,
orgasmic exploooo; sion,
into silence.

Wrapped together, holding tight,
pulsating waves of body delight,

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem


A quandary of memory 
stands here before me, 
with yesterday's long gone.
Fifty years ago, 
just like the minute before; 
I started this life long poem.
There's times it seems, 
the probable things, 
are lost on the tip of my tongue.
Every ladder I've climbed, 
is left behind,
pushed to years ago when I was young.
My friends let me know,
every detailed episode,
that pulls at my confused brain.
Is it present or past, 
and this time will it last,
never my mind to return to this day.
Solitude is my enemy,
but then again a friend to me,
for it's where I find in my mind,
the things I find so dear to me,
as I travel once more;  back in time.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

the POMPOUS fool

WE gratefully recognize your position of pride,
Of a song that is all but commercialized.
However we can not produce what we feel would abuse, 
the tradition of this great state in which we reside.

That being said, you'd be better off dead
than to find your poetry alive.
You can't be found with common sense that abounds, 
without a scholars degree to arrive.

Why it's absurd to believe, that you could receive,
A glorified authors account.
When you should be scrubbing dishes back east; 
in a shanty;  in some little hick town. 

You people that try to be more than you are,
are just asking for failure in your life.
You put on a show and give it a go,
 but fail miserably in each and every stride.

I don't care if it's good;  you can not succeed, 
you can not be more than scholars degree.
I am a master in the arts as well as the verse,
you can't be more;  than what I am worth.

I stood up and looked him straight in the eyes,
Said your so sad;  to think your my demise.
I have more heart than twenty of you, 
and I'll leave you with this you POMPOUS fool.

The greatest minds the world has ever known,
never finished school;
they did it on their own.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem

Moonlight delight

We crested 30 thousand feet as I watched the clouds pass by.
To a full moon sonata, 
wrapped up in my mind.
Cotton ball clouds shimmering frosted white of moonlit dazzle to my eyes.
An ocean of rolling cloud tops,
Hover as I pass by.
Off in the distance bright orange and yellow collide, 
as flashes of sprites leave the earth,
to a darkened midnight sky.
The awesome inventor of this great scene, 
the painted pleasures my eyes have seen.
Makes me wonder on this red eyed flight
How many know such amazing delight.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem


Phillia;  oh My brother of life,
Brought through time and wrought though strife.
We've met this day through unblood ways,
given this test of heart we've made.

With youth we bled from youthful knees,
Carried the hearts of youthful dreams.
We grew into the Brother's we are today,
given this test of heart we've made.

Phillia;  oh My Brother's, Son.
My heart hurts for his hearts one.
Time has taken us different ways,
But with this old ticker, Phillia remains.

Well into the shadows of life we've claimed,
settled minds and unashamed.
Captured essence of solitude,
Phillia; oh My Brother, I think we made it through.

Details | Patrick Sutton Poem


In the temple of sanctum,
in the middle of my mind.
In the middle of the night,
Not far behind,
engrossed in the solitude of the favorite part of my brain,
creating pleasures of literary mundane. 
However, I spark the cells,
that eventually tells,
the story of a captured mind.
So am I the conclusion,  
or just an illusion,  
to this earthbound vessel I ride?