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Best Poems Written by Andrew Holt

Below are the all-time best Andrew Holt poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

I Slept Beneath Bridges

I slept beneath bridges, I ate from the trash
I begged outside diners at night and in day
No home to go to, no belongings, no cash
And picked up the leavings that folk threw away

I baked in the heat, I froze in the cold
I weathered long winters and welcomed the spring
Wanting some comfort before I got old
Wanting some care so much more than some thing

Then one day while I lay outside a pub
The swells of the smells coming out strong
In want of a drink or a morsel of grub
Through swinging doors a man came along

My muzzle nuzzled the man and his bag
He ruffled my fur, my tail gave its first wag

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Mitten the Kitten

Mitten the kitten was black as the night
Apart from his tail which was perfectly white

All of the cats got together each week
In Mitten’s big garden to play hide-and-seek

The fat ginger Tom counted to ten
Said “Ready or not, here I come”, and then…

He found Ray the grey stray hid in the tree
Among all the leaves he was easy to see

But Mitten the kitten was nowhere in sight
Not even his tail which was perfectly white

The Siamese twins hid in the bins
“I saw you go in there”, said Tom to the twins

But Mitten the kitten was nowhere in sight
Not even his tail which was perfectly white

Bob the bobtail went under the mat
Tom saw the bump and said “That’s where you’re at!”

But Mitten the kitten was nowhere in sight
Not even his tail which was perfectly white

Abby the tabby hid in the flue
She sneezed and she sneezed and Tom said “That’s you!”

But Mitten the kitten was nowhere in sight
Not even his tail which was perfectly white

All of the cats had been found except Mitten
So Tom asked the others, “Where is that kitten?”

None of them knew, they looked up the flue...

The Siamese twins, they peered in the bins...

Abby ran off to look in the trough...

Ray the grey stray searched through the hay...

The bobtail called Bob peeked under the hob...

But Mitten the kitten was nowhere in sight
Not even his tail which was perfectly white

Then Tom saw a note upon the front door
He was quite sure it was not there before

It said, “Going on holidays, be back on Sat.
Taking a break… and taking the cat.”

That's why Mitten the kitten was nowhere in sight
Not even his tail which was perfectly white

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Octopus Limerick

A sailor one day, while out sailing
Thought he heard someone screaming and wailing
The source of the shout 
As he later found out
Was an octopus tied to the railing

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Seven Sorry Soldiers

Seven sorry soldiers
Hiding in a ditch
Errol caught some shrapnel
And then there were six

Six sorry soldiers
Barely glad to be alive
Barrett took a bullet
And then there were five

Five sorry soldiers
As brave as trained to be
Geoff and Tom stood on a bomb
That left only three

Three sorry soldiers
Curt and Blare and Ron
Blare was scalped from a turret
The other two went on

Two sorry soldiers
Ronald T and Curt
Curtis had to press right on
When Ronald B got hurt

Just one sorry soldier:
Curtis M McGee
One of seven not yet in heaven
That sorry soul is me

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

A Young Man Named James

There once was a young man named James
Who was good at most boring board games
Excepting for "Clue"
Because he didn't know who
Dunnit because he forgot the names

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Old Man of York - Limerick

There once was an old man from York
Who choked on a large chunk of pork
He croaked for his wife
Who ended his life
By digging it out with a fork

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Depression Makes a Lousy Breakfast

Drapes are closed but the sun gets through
Summer morning, birds a-tweeting
Sweat on sheets, personal dew
Two more snoozes then up for meeting

A chunk of mahogany
Surrounded by suits
Well-shaved chins
Playing silk flutes

Golden cuff links
Slide over shine
Reaching for Perriere:
Businessman's wine

The big-haired girl
With tight lips and skirt
With clipboard and pen
In a roomful of men
She manages managers
Directs the directors
Away from the P's and Q's they might blurt

When minutes are taken
They while away hours
In a concrete maze
With the rented flowers

The plastic shag carpet
The paper thin walls
The wood-textured desk
Holding five clacking balls

The photo of daughter
The drawing by son
The lunch packed by wife:
Ham and cheese in a bun

Like a silent fire drill
At four-thirty flat
The lifts are sardined
With impersonal chat

All hoping to beat
The motorized fleet-
The Mercedes armada
That trawls down their street

Curtains open, sun goes down
A day in credit, a night in debt
A silent pillow away from town
Night light off, alarm clock set

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

After the Laughter

You dressed in your best
I dressed in mine
A suit from Armani
A silk tie from Klein
You made up your face
And put on your glitter
You kissed up to scarlet
And called for the sitter

I creased as I waited
My smile did the same
The TV seduced me
Turned on to the game
Two minutes to full time:
A draw, sudden death
You announced you were ready
With mint on your breath

We arrived at the show
It was long, it was boring
I didn't complain
When you pinched me for snoring
Then the interval came
We went out for quick drinks
You merged like a Monet
With lawyers and shrinks

In the car you were silent
What happened to all
The bluff and the chatter
You spent in the hall?
At least we could talk about
The news or the weather
Or are we not supposed
To grow old together?

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Spring

As new buds told old petals to forget
For whatever reasons between seasons, we met
I to take my hound for a bound in the park
You, to the zoo with your son before dark

And he, like a bee to a new-flowered tree
Saw the dog, I saw you and then you saw me
And while your begat was besmat with my pet
I asked for your name, you did same, so we met

No instance romance no ad-lib dance or report
Just a mellow hello and a smile of a sort
But our hearts with his darts, Cupid had shotten
And my hound could've drowned, and your begotten, forgotten!

Details | Andrew Holt Poem

Father Allan - Part 1

He was born of seven children
The middle of the bunch
His older siblings dressed him up
And packed a simple lunch

His mother used to scrub his ears
Until they shone bright red
His father wasn’t round much
Only home when he was dead

They buried him in Holston plot
That’s where he asked to lay
And Allan went to visit him
After school one day

I never saw you in my days 
Said Allan to the stone
So why’d I come to see you now?
I’ll leave you here alone

My mother and my sisters
My brothers and my friends
Will have all my attention
Until the daylight ends

He started school at four years old
He didn’t know them all
The teacher had a long cane stick
That hung upon the wall

It was a sharp reminder
Those boys can be a sin
And it was there for all to see 
As soon as they walked in

He felt it on his hands and arms
When he was doing wrong
And when he got in trouble
The days went on too long

At fourteen Allan found a girl
She was so simple plain
But something made him like her
That he couldn’t quite explain

Her name was Ella Cornwall
Her chest and hips were soft
They kissed as beginners
In the corner of the loft

Allan felt some stirring
Such a mystery to him
Now that Daddy’s memory
Was slowly getting dim

What did Daddy tell me
In the short time that we met?
He’d said some things about girls
That I should not forget

So Allan went to mother
To ask what Dad had said
She stiffly rebuffed him
And said your Dad is dead

Ella went to see him
But Allan turned away
She went into a tantrum
And they broke up in May

He turned away from yearnings
And joined the senior side
The best of the all the players
His future opened wide