Best Mandy Poems
To Brian From Mandy
My gift I give to you is more of a character inspection
I give you permission to leave your ongoing introspection
Stop worrying your artistic self with form and stanza true
Let yourself, really go and lets find the real you.
You are educated and artistic but that’s what your blogs say
Just express you yourself, and not quote other poets for just one day.
My gift is given in love, I would like to hear the real you
Not the man behind the educated artistic, and the formal poet too.
Please take my gift as it is given in love, and let yourself really go
I can’t wait to see the real you when your artistic juices flow.
You study form and stick to it but the more that you try
To get it right, which you do, I feel the real you pass on by.
For your excellent poetry and your artistic talent too,
I know you will give thanks to God, for giving them to you
.
Use them once for you, be selfish, don’t worry about form one day.
And lets the words flow from you, and not what other poets say.
Collaboration between
Seren Roberts and Mandy Tams:
The Wet Patch
Why sit with a frown is there a need?
Yes she whispered in my ear, I think I peed.
My knickers are wet, I dare not move at all
If I stand up, down they will surely fall
Your knickers are wet, ha I did scoff
But I made sure I did, no laugh or a cough
For under my seat I would then have to peer
As there may be a puddle just under here
Went shopping before we met for lunch
Hoped lollies would stay frozen, so I could crunch
Put it in my handbag, sat upon my lap
Decided to eat quickly, so no mishap.
But lunch took quite a while
We had a laugh and a smile.
The lollies got hot, and then they did melt
I felt a cold patch sneak under my belt.
I swept off the table cloth wrapped it round like a toga
To everyone watching I said ‘it’s a new move in yoga'
To the bathroom I ran and locked the door
I dropped my wet undergarments, onto the floor
Knickers now down, I could see the stain
Was orange not pee and that I still maintain
I sniffed at my undies and then I did think
They smell of oranges, as I rinsed in the sink
I hadn’t peed at all, twas not a mishap
My ice lollies had melted, wetting my lap
Next time you see an old dear with a wet patch on her frock
Remember it might be a lolly, so you better not mock
One day you know that old dear will be you
So to yourself and to others you must always be true
A wet patch you may see, but no lollies are there
So offer her some wipes, but don’t sit on her chair
© 2013
She always calls me her little flower of all nations
What I’d like to know is who peed in my carnations
My petunia’s have been trampled and my bean stalk
Well it looks devoid of bean, and some taste like chalk (Vie)
Chalky beans are not good, and peed on petunias are even worse
Instead of trying to eat them, use the beans to write some verse
For petunias bathed in pee, well I’ll tell you what I would do
If the pee didn’t work on them try and plant them in some poo
©GG 18/06/2013
Forgottot put Vie's bit on, lol xx
Oh Mandy,
I am sorry for those days I made you cry
I am sorry I could not see love in your eyes
your touch, heart and the beautiful dreams you had
are they still in your heart under the earth?
But now I have seen and felt your laughter
and the sound of your cough on my sofa
and the number of times I missed your call
today I stand alone to the weather
Oh Mandy....
How I wish I could sing with you with this voice
and appreciate every moment lost
you and me together and forever
where we will live, laugh and love
Oh Mandy
Dead men have no dreams but memories
old, sad and beautiful days spent and told
A plague in your name and flowers I lay today
Rest in love now and always. I love you now Mandy
Oh Mandy.
May I introduce myself, but I’m not sure how,
My given name was different to what it is now.
Amanda Michelle, they named me back then,
But nobody told me until I was ten.
I’m now known as Mandy for good and for bad,
Life has been hard but please don’t be sad.
I also have a title which some may not know
I am Lady Amanda and I have the certificate to show.
My husband and I are happy as can be,
Our two grown up sons, they look just like me.
I have little experience in this writing game
So cannot regale you with previous fame.
My story is true but with added laughs
With fact and with fiction and even a few gaffs.
Appreciate it, I would,
If you could peruse at your leisure
My little attempt to spread round some pleasure.
My story I think, could stand with the rest
It may not be genius or even the best
But my story is here and needs to be read
Or I’ve wasted my nights when I should be in bed
Thank you so much for taking time to read,
My introduction to you, which is what you need.
I have nothing to say on education and passes
I have none to boast of even though I wear glasses.
I can plant you a garden or paint you a plate,
I can build you a wall or bake you a cake.
I can sew you a garment, or tile you a wall
But ask for qualifications,
I took none at all.
Life is my tutor and I have learned well,
Lessons were hard but we don’t need to dwell.
Please give me a chance and look at my work
That’s all I can ask, so I don't feel a jerk.
Lady Amanda is now writing a book
Thats all I can say except please wish me good luck.
© 25/05/2012
Who knows who they will be born to
what form they'll arrive in either
The guff let's go and poof, it's you
parents, perhaps you'd wanted neither?
If they applauded if they booed, well
their actions don't reflect on you!
If they've scared you, marred you, tell
kind ears are here, look how you grew!
If they've shown more wrong than right
now you will know what not to do
Pick a day, a new name, unite
the better parts of golden you.
Your friends can see what's right ,and true
Happy Birthday Goldie Gal to YOU!
It could only happen, Mandy
to a jokester such as you,
that a mix-up in your birthday
lets you pick your choice of two.
Wear double birthdays as a necklace,
to enhance your lovely face
or each one as bright flower
in an everlasting vase.
May all your days be filled with
happiness
and loved ones all surround.
May the joy you give to others
double back in big rebound.
With much love,
Joyce
THIS IS JUST A PUBLIC THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL SO GOOD
AND AT LAST, IN LARGER NUMBERS, BEING UNDERSTOOD
I WRITE WHAT I FEEL AS YOU ALL DO
AND THAT'S WHY I THANK YOU
MY NUMBERS HAVE INCREASED EXPONENTIALLY
AND THIS HAPPENED SUDDENLY
THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE I WANT TO THANK
AND YOU CAN TAKE THAT TO THE BANK
BUT REMEMBER, WHATEVER YOU TAKE COULD END UP IN MY ACCOUNT
BECAUSE I'VE GOT A LEAGUE OF HURDLES TO MOUNT
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH, KEEP READING ME IF YOU'D LIKE
I KNOW I'D LIKE IT
AND REMEMBER Y'ALL---BE COOL AND BE NO ONE'S PHOOL
THANKS AGAIN, VIA CON DIOS
P.S. THERE'S ONE LADY WHO I KNOW IS RESPONSIBLE FOR MY LARGER NUMBERS, SHE KNOWS WHO SHE IS BECAUSE I AM HER SHADOW....THANKS GIRL (EXCEPT I THINK THIS TALENTED WRITER ISN'T POSTING SO SHE PROBABLY WON'T EVEN READ THIS, BUT I WISH SHE COULD BECAUSE I OWE SO MUCH TO HER COMMENTS THAT SPUR MY POETRY AND CHALLENGE ME TO WRITE TO PLEASE ONLY HER, BECAUSE IF SHE DIGS IT, SO WILL A LOT OF PEOPLE..I BELIEVE THAT.....EVEN IF I'M TALKING TO A GHOST, THANKS GIRL ~f!~
I’ve dropped 2 pills and an 8th of Phet
Waiting for the rushes, waiting for the sweat
Listening to the music, feelin’ every beat
waiting for that melody which sweeps me off my feet
The beat drop’s out, music’s lost pace
My heart’s started racing, there’s a trickle down my face
I can start to feel tingles, my body start to shake
This rush is going to hit me, just like an earthquake
Now I’m in the rush, most ravers are the same
We’re lost in our music, lost in the game
Reaching for the lasers, hairs stood on end
On a euphoric journey, I don’t want to descend
The beat drops in, I return to the room
Left wanting more of my euphoric bloom
Mandy cares
Mandy shares
Mandy always there
Mandy swears ( haha she does)
What a friend I have in Mandy
All my pain i know she'd bear
What a privilege to know her
Troubles Mandy she will share
Oh what things she often taught me
Especially form which i despair
In her arms I know she'd hold me
Call out for Mandy, she'll be there
You can sing the 2 verses
Diolch Mandy you are a friend indeed
Mandy
My middle Daughter
As I see it, as I have felt it, as I understand it !
Mandy, is, and certainly has been a closed casket,
a closed book, carrying with her to the grave’
all that is buried deep within her soul,
all the secrets her heart holds,
all the thoughts kept within her minds hoard,
all the feelings encased within her young being.
Except, that is, on rare occasions when a worm,
or two, bores holes into the darkness of her,
below her earth shell, allowing a beam of light,
from within, to reach up and touch the outside world,
enlighten the inquiring minds of, those of us
who would like to know and know the truth.
Then again, maybe it is me, just me who lives in a grave,
kept in the darkness, kept from seeing the light,
kept from knowing the truth,
the whole story or the story at all.
Could it be me who keeps it all away from myself ?
B. J. “A ” 2
November 6th 2001`
at last my face begins to rest
at last my feet are curled
warming on the soft plush carpet
fire for heat
and light giving character
in shadows and
light darknesses
thoughts of the days happenings
fly like sparks
memories of a day adrift
lazily stream into darkness
night’s relaxing sooths
full with sunset’s ease
the books I’ve never written
fall from the stars to me
talked to Mandy on the phone
she asked me if I would kiss her
Has she not heard it in my voice
when I say that I love her?
Has she not seen my love sick dreaming?
Has she not talked deep into
the night with me?
Has she not sensed the longing
the desire in my poetry?
Does she not know that I have
dreamed of kissing her for
what seems like an eternity and
if I could kiss her for one half
that amount of time I would still
long to kiss her again?
Mandy I love you and will kiss you whenever,
wherever I can even before you brush your
Teeth in the morning
Rain has stopped
The occurrence of
Sporadic heat
Yet in the basement,
Cool and dark,
I lay not wanting to
Move not wanting
To do anything
But to dream of the
Woman I love
How can I explain the way
I love you
It is like my love of God
My love for nature
My love poetry
My love for beauty
And indefinable happiness
My endless search for perfection
Instead of ending up in verse
Has been pettily packaged in a woman
Who gave her love to me
Anxiety Mandy .
Anxiety is not but fear disguised as the void of uncertainty.
Anxiety / fear – know, the only thing to fear, my Dear, is fear itself.
Anxiety can harm you, can kill you, has only the life you give it.
Anxiety has – as you know only too well – has always left you.
Anxiety is not going crazy, is not insanity my Dear !
Anxiety is an emotion, is psychological, is physical.
No matter the source, no matter the triggers,
in the final analysis, you are in control,
you are the control, not anxiety !
Anxiety, my child, needs – from you – a good kick in the ass,
sent on into that black abyss from whence it came,
never again to enfold its menacing wings around your fragile soul.
Until that time comes, stand tall, look that fool right in the eye,
spit in its face with all the courage and strength of character
that has carried you, thus far, a step above phobia and anxiety.
Love Dad
B. J. “A ” 2
October 25th 2003
An expedition back into the dark jungle,
a rain forest shrouded in the haze of history,
brought about by hidden enterprises.
Lost and Found
Mandy
Battle weary am I, war warn.
To shreds has my heart been, torn.
From my middle Daughter, only scorn.
Mouthing hateful words, my soul doth morn.
My heart laden heavy by the icy coldness
from adolescent, peer mimicry, its boldness.
Living with fear of love lost, of lost intimacy.
I feel I have no more, as a father, legitimacy.
My heart, my soul tortured by all the pain.
Echoing off the barren, jagged walls, of my terrain.
Monsoons battering these walls, with heavy rain
saturating every synaptic cleft of my shattered brain
with the death of my tears, as they become lost
in the quagmire of life, what a disastrous cost.
Does it come from her head, I might have a chance.
From her heart, it will destroy this parent’s dance.
All this dread, drenches the trenches in my head.
Does all of this mean, to her, in her mind, I am dead.
It seems, as her parent, her father, I have lost any chance.
The price I have to pay for standing up, taking a stance.
All the lies culminate with the loss of belief.
Deceptions, con games, from them no relief.
Lost faith, loss of trust only offer one, grief.
Respite from all of this heart ache is so brief.
These hateful, mean spirited words resonate
disrespect, rebellion, verbal abuse that state,
this war I wage, with such rage, will go on and on
until a light comes on, on a new day it will dawn.
B. J. “A” 2
May 8th, 1998
Epilog
Twenty three years have slipped by.
The Daughter, once the apple of my eye,
I no longer hear from or get to see.
Phobias, anxieties, that is all she be.
Revisited, Revised
November 1st, 2021
Everything she writes is fine and dandy.
For good comments, Mandy is always handy.
This lady’s words are as sweet as candy.
Take a look at what she has posted today.
There is a whole lot of good I have to say.
She can make January feel as nice as May.
For as long as she wants, Mandy can stay.