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Best Poems Written by Pv Harrington

Below are the all-time best Pv Harrington poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Pv Harrington Poem

Private Romeo

Romeo Jaxx had a friend for a fool
So he never thought "Baby's in love."
He fought for his rights
and he slept through your dreams
With his self-centred wolverine paralysed
 
Drove out of the camp on a bright summer's day
waving last weekend's pass-out goodbye
Phoned Jenny, then Julie, who never complained
Filled his tank, with the world running dry.
 
Throws off the fatigues now, just too tired to fight,
He will walk to the beat
of another man's drum
sometimes valour's the best part of sin.
With a grin shoves his ring
on the pawnbroker's manicured thumb.
 
Now this story splits down three parallel lines.
My version, the truth and your lies
You saw him conversing with 12-year-old Jim
in myriad tongues, his back to the wind. 
I found him saluting a girl in Key West,
Where admirals croak and malingerers lie.
We both know he broke each old, weary taboo
Well, salmon will leap
when they're straining to die.
 
Maybe Romeo Jaxx is of much sterner stuff
And never was swayed from some destiny's path.
Straight as a die
but the die is now cast,
the cast are now blind
and the blind are aghast.
Our Romeo sees that there's no one ahead
don't tell him, there's no one behind.

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Great Minds

Great men think alike
Great women think differently
Great children breathe air.

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Cogito Ergo Sum Confusion

What if the great Rene Descartes,
Renaissance man of many parts.
for all his fame and coruscation
is nothing but a fine creation
of my own imagination?

Philosophically disabused.
I think therefore I am

confused.

Details | Pv Harrington Poem

This Town, This Time

In this time , this town, you'd grow
In this town, this time, you'll feel at home
your poor plenty more than rich enough
to crack the faultline,
your cup half full, half overflowing.

You stretch your legs and wings and mind and laugh
Find friends too easily,
and hand frayed throw cushions
to basement strangers.
But is it your life?

Tomorrow you'll return to the terraced houseboat,
to the gulls and the buoys
and there's a fresh breeze blowing
through fused stamens along the towpath,
coaxing brilliant notes
from your empty letter box
and spinning ancient coins
under a tear-shaped moon.

The chimes are natural now
not flat, not sharp, not late,
not ringing through your dreams like an ice-cream hearse.
He'll phone you at the weekend
She'll pop by with that book, that child, that unfinished thought.

And you'll drink methode champenoise
straight from the bottle
Like winning at Monaco
or from your shoe,
and chase your other lover
upstairs.

Now write a letter to yourself
and copy it to the moon.
Take the ferry to the island
and drive back across
the broad causeway.


In this time , this town, you grow
In this town, this time, you feel at home

Details | Pv Harrington Poem

Resurrection Plant

The trunks of pine, ash, oak piled high
A young boy walks the cambered wall
Happier than you ,and less scared,
Disturbing universes too small to matter
too big to care.

 Everything sang "I'll outlast you..."
Unlike yesterday's superstar.
Moss, caught on your shoe
will outlast you
like a melon seed, like cocktail sticks
like finding fault,
like everything you love but worse.

Even dead boys outlast you,
clinging to every fibrous thought
Leaning on your inner ear
and cleaning you out.

"Twenty years ago this week," says someone,
and you are deceived, again.
Feeling bereft is your only excuse.
Another somebody's daughter rides horses
flying across hundreds of generations
Evolution with a bolt straight back and a mean streak,
The accidental apex.

Today I watered
the Selaginella lepidophylla
feeling sorry for the undead.

Tumbleweed, tumbleweed,
you are my tumbleweed
I mustn't grumble
you are my tumbleweed.

Sleep, sleep ticking children
Sleep like your grandmother
Nothing's changed
nothing's imminent (he lied).

Tomorrow will you dance with me?
Dance while I'm important to you,
Dance while you're vital

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The Quick Way Home

All damage is collateral
When you don't care if you're hit.
You want to turn a corner
Because your circle doesn't fit

You wait for an apology
but you're too tongue-tied.
Is that a letter-bomb
Or a Red Cross stone?

Grandad was a boomer
They say your mother's just an ex
She can keep that 6D phone.

You save all that enthusiam
For a Thursday night
The music may be way too loud
But way too loud's just right.

You hang on to some carousel
When all your friends have flown.
Does their cynicism
hit you like a Jeep?

The politicians will, I hope, come swiftly to your aid
So you laugh yourself to sleep.

You hover over treetops
You can see things as they are
You're wireless and you're peerless
If you only had a car.

You're buttering your breadcrumbs
While a billion families starve
Is this infinity
Or the quick way home?

You love, you bleed, you sow your seed
And so the wild wheel turns
Backwards while they tamper
with your clone.

Details | Pv Harrington Poem

Crash Wednesday Xx With Apologies To Ts Eliot Xx

Because I do not hope to turn again 
Because I do not hope 
Because I do not hope to turn 
I'm going to leave this heap 
By the side of the road 
And hitchhike home.

Details | Pv Harrington Poem

Phuket

And suddenly understand you're underwater
Flapping, snap-coral beneath someone's paradise
Bung-lusting rope towards parallax sunslick
then smacking the sole of your swollen left foot
with an empty Coke bottle, the driver's advice
While cursing the urchins in firstling jerk Tagalog. 

Later your friends bring you sell-by-date strawberries
candour and candlesticks
joysticks and carrot cake.
Jim makes you laugh
till you don't.
And so soon you consider
the maximum age for dancing
half naked in half-light.

In the gaps you must wonder
whether good folk seek heaven
because it's a lie,
or deny it
because it isn't.

Back in the suburbs the sun is on holiday
Locksmiths are busy, the elderly cold
I don't mind the rain, which feels like connection
Singing Roy Orbison, so near the fold

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A Dream of Waking

I dreamt of ships one winter night
In heavy seas and high alarm
We'd missed a meeting, lost our clothes
could hardly run, had swum too far

And then the mast came crashing down,
All cast adrift, or lost somehow
When suddenly the boy cried out
"Are we allowed to wake up now?"

He said it time and time again
Till I joined in with all my heart
And vowed I would do all I could
to pry my heavy lids apart

And when I did I saw the clock
With arms dropped down not far apart
With breath allowed, I lay there still
While beating brain met thinking heart

I wanted to go find the boy
to see his shape, to check his breath
to know he'd made it back this far
to touch his hand, untouched...

And later when the morning sun
brought headlines, heartbreak, furrowed brow,
I heard the small voice once again;
Are we allowed to wake up now?

Details | Pv Harrington Poem

Mary's Trapeze

Mary can't catch her death from tornadoes
As she sits on the cage with a swing of her legs
They whisper upstairs for a change in the weather
While young Daddy Bling lights a fire to caress.

And you, yes you, would you take a bullet
For the son of a son that you haven't yet met?
Will you rush the high ground, the rest of us haven't,
And carry the torch from the land of bad guesses?

I can't lend a hand, though I'd really love to
The only one here with a family to keep,
We'll post you a tweet and return to the jungle
As Mary throws shades from her dazzling trapeze.

Look there in the dark at the damp cardboard castles
You trample your promise and he'll break your teeth,
It's lost in the thrum of a million heart lines
Mary threads cable, she's got no crowd to please.