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Best Poems Written by A Yorkshire Poet

Below are the all-time best A Yorkshire Poet poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | A Yorkshire Poet Poem

The Torment

You've seen beyond the dark
You've lived behind the light
What is it?

To you the truth is lies
To you life is a crime

Your lies make you survive
Your truth is where they hide

Dark rages deep inside
Light can't get through your eyes.

The secrets of the night
love burned out of sight
The horrors of the mind
The torment you must find

What is it?

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You Feed Yourself the Whys

You're fooling yourself
You don't need that to fly
You don't need that to burn
You don't need that to cry.
Use it as an excuse
Blot out reason for why?
Try to justify
But don't expect me to see why
You don't even try
A day would soon go by
A start of being dry?
But what the hell's the use?
Of trying to convince you?
You don't need that to fly
Let it rule your life
Let it take control of your mind
Why should you put up a fight?
Sit there, drink it all tonight!
Your pride's too tough to make the call
To stand and look into your eyes
To face up to your lies
You feed yourself the whys!
The reasons you despise
The man behind your eyes
You don't listen to his cries.

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The Dream of a Free Ukraine

We look into your eyes. They look back 
so human-ly!
You treat us like the child that had to 
grow up quickly.

You stand behind your lines and watch 
us suffer and suffer badly.
You play your sympathetic smiles but 
leave to face the wild all lonely.

The lessons you have learned, the lives 
that cost you. You see a dictator turn 
his warring hands and you stand by 
politely.

You will watch us suffer and lose our 
country. You will watch us burn and 
lose our humanity. 

Our democracy is the price you’ll pay 
for our sanctuary. You’ll let him steal 
our dreams because of money. 

If this is humanity,  f#ck your humanity.

Details | A Yorkshire Poet Poem

Be a Woman

You adore the reflection you see
So beautiful you are, so pure your beauty
I see through the crack in the door 
Brushing your hair so devotedly!

I know to them the favourite you are
Your eyes glisten like far away stars
I know that to them their angel is you
You’re so perfectly pretty, anyone would love you

I study the mannerisms of you. Your smile stops hearts beating - it is so beautifully you.

I cry in the night because of you
I lose sleep and am tired because of you
I look at the reflection of me
My eyes, my skin is just not your beauty.

I fool myself saying how pretty I am
But your teeth are so perfect and white you light up a room no matter where you are

I accept that I’ll never be you
The shadow, the one always behind!
The people we meet don’t see me
They look at you and see all they want to see

I love you but hate you as well
I can’t stand when you laugh as their attention is no where else

My sister you will always be
The boys, the men will never see me!

I’m sorry to hear how you are
The lines and the age dimmed the light of the far away star!
They don’t open the door for you anymore
Your complexion lost the glow of who you were once before.

Though pretty you always be, when youth became a memory so did your drop-dead beauty!

Now age is as cruel as cruel can be
The Woolf whistles now call for someone else’s beauty

I’m sorry that you can’t let go of the perfectly pretty you
But you can’t dress like that anymore and be in anyway cool

Let go of the youth that was you
That was innocence’s fool
You are so much more than what you see.
You are much more than what they will ever see.
Let go of the past, you’ll always have memories 

Be a women. 
Be more than they think you are.
A women is much more than a smile or the eyes of glistening stars

Be a women for what you want to be
Be a women of substance, be a women like me.

Details | A Yorkshire Poet Poem

One Hundred Percent

One hundred percent, can you see it?
Maybe - imagine if that were a pool.
A pool of water maybe or a pool of blood? 
What power dictates true endeavour?
What justifies what stakes rise?

Perhaps we stand here in front of pure evil?
Perhaps it’s pure love we see under a reddening sky.  

How dangerous is it?
How sharp is the hand that slices to kill, how blunt is the fist that strikes for the freedom of you and me to survive?

One hundred percent is every fibre, every thought, every sight seen through the eyes and deep in the minds eye. All the pumping blood, heart beats, memories of love and hate draining into the sea, rotting on the ground or exploding in the vast sky. Every feeling felt, every tear, scream or cry in an instant goes by.

What of those who give one hundred percent for our lands, for our democracy. What of those out there today or tonight?

To give one hundred percent for most is too much because you can never be free. To give one hundred percent for those who you love do you  separate yourself from humanity?

Imagine the pool of darkening water, imagine the lonely cloud in the deep blue sky. 

Those who give one hundred percent for you and for me on foreign fields, in foreign seas or skies.............



.............die.

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Priceless

Admiration for you is easy to find
Admiration demanded can’t square in my mind!
Light even in dark you always find
Acceptance of people of any kind
My soul harbours darkness I can’t let control my mind
The contrast is so vast as your soul is the essence of kindness
Your soul is a glow in a world of darkness
You’re everything right in a world of madness
You have a quality so rare to find
Darkness can’t loom in your beautiful mind.

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I knew a spy

I knew a spy who told me her truths.
She told me her lies so I could never surmise where the line lies, the line of the spy. The words and the eyes. The live and the die. The strange life it must be, the life of a spy.

I knew a spy who lived life a lie. Gambled with fate as easy as choosing the food that she ate. And would look at the dark like it was light. Would stand in the rain to camouflage the tears from her eyes. To stand in the rain to wash away the pain. 

I knew a spy who would to me wink with her eye. Carrying a smile with long flowing hair and stylish in the clothes that she’d wear. But never a line did she cross. 
Her life was a line, a line as sharp as a knife.

I knew a spy,  I wonder where the sun shines on her smile. I wonder where the real person is free. What she gave to serve her country. I know she’s alive from the cards and messages I see with my eyes. But can she ever be free? I know that life wasn’t for me.

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I Remember

I remember the cold of a winter night when the snow brought the hills alive. When the valley stream was ice, I remember the cold of a winter night.

I remember the snowdrops of the spring. The dew would burn off eventually. The air would be fresh and clean, I remember the snowdrops of the spring.

I remember the swallows in summer flight. When the blue sky turned crimson almost every night. The soft air on open fields. The beauty of the fuchsia flower yields. The sun and moon could be seen together riding the sky. I remember the swallows in summer flight. 

I remember the autumn colours of magnificence. The deep reds and yellows could create paintings without the frames. The soft warm of evening sun. Nature’s beauty without comparison. I remember the autumn colours of magnificence.

I remember loving nature because you found that in me. Your smile and your deep blue eyes shone brighter in the sun you see. The way you’d stop to help an injured bee. You saw so much beauty in life, even in me. I remember loving nature because you found that in me.

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Holes

You may think he’s weird.
You may think she’s odd.
Look deeper than the skin and see something you don’t know, something you never thought of.

People are all different, finding different ways to heal.
People are all different, with unique ways to feel.

You may have a full heart ready and able to give love.
You may have a generous mind always seeking to feel love.

But some minds and hearts don’t have the range of what you can receive or give.
Exposed and beaten by life, a life you would not want to live.

Some hearts and minds have holes inside where nothing can get through.
Some hearts and minds are broken and there’s little you can say or do.

Listen to their pain and sorrow and listen to them too. Don’t judge a broken heart or mind because that’s the worst thing you can do.

Details | A Yorkshire Poet Poem

Poems of the Night

The poems of the night reflect the living of the day.
The colours of the night can be so much more brighter in so many ways.
The mind plays with the light casting shadows where the sun shines rays.
The heart yearns for warmer times, for deep blue summer days.

The songs of the night sing tunes of broken minds.
The silence of the night echoes sounds of broken hearts.

The poems of the night tell of the sorrows of the days.
The words penned sing of life broken, twisted and yet loved in so many different and beautiful ways.