Best Barmy Poems
Ukraine is putting up a brave fight and is not giving in
A two finger salute to that murderer, Vladimar Putin
For eight months now they've held out in their cities
Dispite missiles, murder, rape and other atrocities.
Putin thought he had the most powerful and efficient army
If you believe that garbage you'd be bordering on barmy
They're inefficient, ill equipped, and cowardly in battle
When Ukraine advances they quickly retreat from trouble.
As winter approaches he's trying to demoralise the nation
By sending orders to his vile Orcs to bomb a power station
The west must send generators to help ease their plight
Along with more weapons to help, brave Ukrainians fight.
The grain shipments to poor nations is now under threat
That man is sub human and how much lower can he get?
Like the Roman empire and the Nazis big cracks will appear
Putins Russian empire will crumble and eventually disappear.
The Russian army has a long yellow streak down its back
It fires missiles indiscriminately when it's under attack
No thought for human life be it kids, women or old men
Sanctioned in that scum ridden place, they call the Kremlin.
Putins campaign for more troops is not going too well
No decent minded Russian wants to go into that hell
He's recruiting in prisons, along with the old and the lame
Putins cannon fodder and for Ukraine they're fair game.
We must not let Putin succeed, with his 'special operation'
He must think we're stupid; it's war against a peaceful nation
I have every faith in brave Ukraine and in the end they will win
There will be no Russian victory, and hopefully the end of Putin.
Victory to Ukraine.
Written on 1st November 2022.
Thank you for being rock solid for me
Allowing me to simply be
Give me space to come crashing down
To sing out of key to smile or frown
Thank you for being willing to stay
Each time I tried to run away
Hold me, kiss me till it passes
When I stare through gloomy glasses
Love me cos I'm yours to keep
Hold me while I fall asleep
Let me go so I can move
Marvel when I'm in the groove
When my brain and heart short circuit
Read the manual on how to work it
When I'm rushing slow me calmly
Be my strength when I go barmy
Understand my every act
No matter how the odds are stacked
And when I want to run and hide
Open your heart I'll climb inside
When I am loving sweet and tender
Welcome me, reflect, surrender
Give your life right by my side
And love each second of the ride
Sam is a novice gardener who stamps on all ants
He doesn't like them near or crawling on his plants
Their Queen was angry and wanted revenge
For the ones that had fallen she wanted to avenge.
They planned to get inside and under Sam's clothes
Cover his whole body from his head to his toes
The queen gave her order for her ants to attack
Every inch of his body, every orifice and crack.
There were flying ant squadrons in groups of twelve
Soldiers in lines and a lone scout out by himself.
The others were preparing for a mass swamping
While Sam continued with his clomping and stomping.
They entered inside both trouser leg realms
These little feisty red insects, these hardcore rebels
From somewhere inside it was smelly and breezy
And their night vision eyes made navigation more easy.
Sam's legs were hairy and wiry, like a hot tangled jungle
With volcano like spots and some weird looking fungal.
They battled there way through, this united strong army
While Sam was going mad and looked rather barmy.
They bit, they chewed, they spat and tickled
Sam smacking himself as he wriggled and wiggled
At all times they were all on high red alert.
To avoid being splattered by this mad dancing berk.
These tiny ninja assassins crawled under his shirt
His four limbs wildly failing; he went completely berserk
Flying ants swooping and diving to created a distraction
Sam's reaction to their actions gave them great satisfaction.
He jumped, he hopped, he twice did the splits
They bit here and there, including his small naughty bits
His limbs in and out; the ants hokey pokey
Limbs moving so fast they felt hot and smelt smokey.
Sam screamed "I am sorry please leave me alone
My garden is yours and every ants home
I didn't know aphids left you a sugary sweet treat"
I surrender, I give up, I admit my defeat."
Harmony and peace, balance restored
Nothing is mightier than a little ants sword
Sam's body now healed, no more ants in his pants
But beware if you ever harm a red or black ant.
04.06.24
I like chickens,
They’re cuddly and they’re cute
When I goes out on Friday night
I wears a chicken suit
People stares at me an says
“Just look at him he’s barmy”
They won’t find it so funny
When I’ve raised my chicken army
We’ll take the world by storm
Then I won’t be the laughing stock
Surrounded by my chickens
I will be the biggest cock
I like chickens
They are my only friends
I love them all, the cockerel
The baby chicks the hens
We’ll dominate the world
And then this bird will rule roost
I’ll cock a doodle doo to give
My birds a morale boost
I’ll march upon the capital
Encircled by my flock
You’ll hear the people turn and say
“Just look at him, the Cock!”
I am who I am
Were you to ask where I’m from my past my tale my next of kin
the answer lies in who tells my narrative my twist what kind of spin
My autobiography is quickly shown in who I am will be in time
past present future blend in context and contingency overt and sublime
No doubt the product of genes and socialisation is rather pertinent
thus mixing and mingling draws frameworks but is also quite reticent
German ancestry Lower Saxon and East Prussian born after the War
struggling with Genocide Holocaust trans-generational down to my core
Grew up in Hamburg somewhat lonely understood by not many but few
too young in my school year a class clown a rebel a critic because I knew
Teachers could not reject or downgrade me since I got full marks in exams
so I carved out my niche opposed authority of Messieurs and Mesdames
A late child of the Student Revolution an exchange to California ensued
where hot love struck me like balm on my wounds with Gigi from Peru
After graduation I rejected being supported by my father and joined the Army
to gain independence yet the method to gain freedom now seems very barmy
Could not leave the Forces despite pretty vigorous conscientious objection
did my best to help others as a medical doctor in humanistic inception
My duties brought me to Wales by the Irish Sea with five children and marriage
country medic and farm house guiding my kids and then nuptial miscarriage
Depression struck no light at the end of the tunnel just darkness and void
too much drink downcast in my mental wheel chair and almost destroyed
Went to rehab in South Africa for treatment where God-incidence came
where I met my wife best friend lover soulmate who had suffered the same
Now I sit in the sun in South Africa stopped medicine write story and poem
reinvent my life some inner child stuff self-actualisation and certainly growing
New awareness novel perspectives pacifism philosophy and many questions
but the knowledge that kindness love and compassion are more than suggestions
My most intimate companion apart from my gorgeous wife is depression
both showed me my path journey and meaning my own life’s repossession
So few words about where I come from who I am will become and will be
so if you wish to explore more of my roots and my future please read my poetry
The Reunion
I’ve been invited to a classroom reunion,
I can see my old chums over there.
Geordie Cockle has got a green suit on,
While Denver Crisp, is sporting no hair.
These people don’t look as I remember,
Some are grey, some old and some fat.
Willy Heather is in parliament as a member,
Lisa Tabby, has brought her new cat.
The years haven’t been kind to Tim Jolly,
But made a looker of Beverley Sprite.
Dandy Beano is still a right wally,
Sharing bad jokes and drinking all night.
Danny Sergeant has just left the army,
With a medal to make us all proud.
Des Troy clenches a fist and goes barmy,
Describing his war, to an avid small crowd.
Trudy Trotter now owns a small Pig farm,
Making bacon for the town folk of Wick.
Amy Fry prints Tee shirts “Keep Calm”,
and Tim Throup left early, feeling sick.
The problem with the old-school reunion,
Is the boasting, tall tales and the rest.
Familiar old faces, but no playground fun.
Why did I reply, to my reunion request?
A delusory pleasure bristled the solitary abator
And the dusky night rides down the sky
An ethereal beauty demoed with her au naturel demeanor
The solitary abator bumps with illusions, thus far realisms high.
Elated with red-hot mysticisms the abator closed his eyes
And mildly felt the zephyr over the mum wispy time
She reposed in her bareness beside his devout envies
The abator fluffed up ca-cacing his limbs to ease with spirit and bine.
An awaited soul perked up with flavour of lust and zeal
And the midnight silence prolonged to be livening with insidiousness
She abreast herself over his frvid spirit of unreal
The abator matte-up bosoming her with barmy tenderness.
The ravenous abator intimated himself in the same state of bareness
And the dark moonless night beamed with perfect ecstacy and elan
She ooohed legalizing the demon-ridden enduringness
The abator held himself with an abrupt spasmodic movement of his organ.
The wonky estrus abator coaxed himself with the pleasure of onanism
And the gentle breeze was felt to soothe the pragmatism
Slowly her au naturel beauty faded, idling the eroticism
Bequeathing the abator's midnight oneirism.
Cast to the left of me, cast to my right
Cast out in front of me but I can’t get a bite
I’ve changed my tactics many times, tried legering and float
And now the heavy pouring rain has soaked right through my coat
Eyes peeled, alert, despite the odds, I fish my chosen spot
The Brolly that I thought I'd packed is one that I forgot!
The Net I Have brought with me lies unused and at my side
I tell myself, I'll catch one soon and many more beside
Non anglers think we’re barmy and all who fish are mad
“To be obsessed with drowning worms is only for the sad”
But non angling folk have no idea of the Buzz when the line goes tight
And the adrenalin rush when the fish is on and the rod bends to the fight
Worms and Maggots, corn and flake on every size of hook
I’ve used up all the tricks I know, it seems I’m out of luck
The weather’s gone from bad to worse and now the wind’s a gale
I should be in a nice warm pub and supping pints of ale
Not every day is action packed with solid bites and takes
When your angling comes together with very few mistakes
There are days like this when nothing’s right and all you try’s in vain
Just fishing on with not a bite seems pointless and insane
Any size of fish would do, just to avoid a 'Blank'
What’s this! A twitch! About time too, my inert float just sank
I’m getting lots of bites at last ('though the fishless hours were Rotten)
Now it’s a bite with every cast and all before is forgotten
I have learned a bit and caught a few to finish off my day
Carefully I’ve set them free and watched them swim away
I am all packed up but before I go there is one last look to see
That I’ve left it clean and tidy for those who follow me
Earthy barmy leafs scurry
Pulling rapidly in peak flurry
Lamenting blind as mists worry
Crude cool calm earth attacks slowly
Silly calm breeze shoo wholly
Sharp plume vanishes hollowly
Descending riveted cloud gleam
Sputtering upon scratching stream
Hurries vacantly in sprinkling steam
Lying oaks bewail 'n bemoan
Unobtrusively giggling delicately unknown
On clear red foundlings windblown
Deciduous elm trees fluster
As slow clouds be one of cluster
Above and slowly disappears in a duster
Suavity forlorn pebbles grieve
Amongst sluggish ol' buttermilk sky heave
As stars twinkling thru' pea soup vapor retrieve
That crispy bacon sarnie
The taste just drives you barmy
That dripping salty bacon fat
For the crumbs my dogs are sat
Sorry lads as I lick my fingers
From the kitchen the fragrance lingers
At my age why should I bother
Sod it all, I'll have another Hmmmmm !!!!
A pant-less lady
liked to go places
she was rather bawdy
and liked to loosen her laces
she was spied by a grandee
he pulled up his braces
then gave her lots of brandy
alas he could not undo his breeches
A pant-less lady
liked to go places
one has to admit she is barmy
as her wares she discloses
Our Jack was a soldier of cavalry fame,
a squaddie then took our Beryl to tame.
Albie's good sense kept him from this game
while David, though Sapper, gave admin some pain.
Now me in the middle, I just played along,
though a true army brat I just practiced their song.
For the REME our Eric on vehicles fed,
while Ken gave it up... came a policeman instead.
Ray also joined up, but as last of our bunch
decided to leave after eating first lunch.
Now me in the middle, I just played along,
though a true army brat I just practiced their song.
Most of my siblings went into the army,
all except me were quite Army Balmy!.
Including my father, I think you will find.
a century or more has gone into this grind!
Now me in the middle, I just played along,
though a true army brat I just practiced their song.
A soldier's a soldier when all's said and done,
but even a soldier spawns daughter or son '
He begats to the world a superior breed
of true Army Brats when he scatters his seed!
Ivor G Davies
A wishing well love
By Steven Cooke
I sit here all alone
The snow melting on my face,
A falling leaf sheds a memory,
Of my first love.
It was here, that barmy night
She tripped in fun, amongst the leaves.
She breathed a smile,
Took my hand,
And softly seduced me with a kiss.
A secret wish comes true.
We made love that summer evening,
By the river, under the willow.
.Watched by a lover’s moon,
Hidden from View.
Stared at the stars with our wishing well,
We dreamed of love and silly things,
Two hearts, inhibition to the wind,
Our souls locked in nature’s song.
But Young Love is a precious thing,
And winters do blow cold.
And in the fading light
She said goodbye.
A last glance, a precocious smile,
And the last moon dance was over
So here I sit with my wishing well
Full of broken dreams,
Yet still, I see embers of a girl
Who shared love, under the willow
Gave hope to my dreams,
Touched my heart,
And taught me well about
The wishing well
No tears now, there are dreams to make.
For That wish has flown away
To find another love
To breathe another wish
Into another’s heart.
To unlock more dreams
For her wishing well to pour.
But our union was fruitful
For my wishing well is full
And dreams I can now give
For I seek my real love,
Where ever she may be.
Could it be you?
BAIRN
THE MORNING I GOT UP AND THINK
ABOUT YOU.
SO YOU ARE BAIRN OF MY LIFE
AND I AM BAR MITZVAH OF YOURS.
OH!MY BAIRN SEE I AM GETTING
THIS BARMY FOR YOU
THAT'S THE REASON YOU CAME IN MY LIFE.
YOU ARE THE BELLERINA OF MY LIFE
I STOLE IT FROM NATURE
'COZ THEY WANTED TO KEEP
ANEMONE LIKE YOU.
SO I DECIDED TO TAKE YOU
TO ME MY BAIRN.
YOU ARE MY BAIRN
I WILL BE WITH YOU FOREVER SO
SO MY BAIRN BE WITH ME
IN LIFE 'S TO FOLLOW.
The Tweetamol as you will see
Is strange beyond deformity.
You’ll gasp, then gape and then declare,
‘I’ve never seen a bird with hair!
A hairy bird- what’s that about?’
You’ll hear yourself begin to shout.
And if you’re lucky you might see
It do something extraordinary-
But this may give you quite a shudder
To see it start to milk its udder.
(It does this every other day
Then posts it to the milky- way).
The thing about this crazy bird
The thing I find is most absurd,
Is that it does from time to time
Pretend to be a porcupine.
Now porcupines, and I think I’m right
Have quills and come out late at night,
Whereas this barmy batty beast
When it comes out to have a feast-
Dons lilies from the lily pond
And brandishes a wizard’s wand,
And then, in words I cannot utter
Gobbles jars of peanut butter.
It does this till it’s had a few
Then swims off in the ocean blue.
To which it sings a lullaby
To whales and roes and flutterbies.
Another thing about this bird
Is that it doesn’t say a word.
That’s not because it cannot speak-
Or that it hasn’t got a beak;
The beak it’s got is well applied
And opens up from side to side.
Instead, as best as it is able
It likes to write thing on a table,
Then charge a pound (which I think is fair)
To see what it has written there.
But if it thinks you’re being stroppy
It will refuse to give a copy.
And so, before you ask advice
Do try and be a little nice.