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Best Poems Written by Ronald D Thompson

Below are the all-time best Ronald D Thompson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Who am I

I ponder! Debate, deliberate, contemplate.
Who am I?

From nothingness I’m thrust into this world.
Who am I?

Is this a test? A game? A dream? An illusion? 
Who am I?

No memory of where I came from, no proof of where I’ll go.
Who am I?

So many options. So many theories. They cannot all be right!
Who am I?

I look up to the sky. Is it real? Are we alone?
Who am I? 

My inner self, my conscience. Is that the truth?
Who am I?

Faith, prayer, hope, fear.
Who am I?

Do I have to wait until I die? I need to know.
Who am I?

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

Snotty nose

Is this just a curse that follows me around?
For I’m only five years old, three feet off the ground,
Playing inside or out, I get the sniffles bad,
I wish this was a nose I never had!

I sniffle all day, as the green slime grows,
Where it comes from? Nobody knows.
I wipe the snot on my right shirt sleeve,
It gives me somewhat of a temporary reprieve.

My mum wipes my nose with a man size tissue,
Pinching my nose hard, as if it’s a big issue.
‘Now play outside and be sure to wipe your nose!’
She says as the snot continually grows!

The slime forms on my lip, it’s sweet to taste,
Best that I lick it off, shouldn’t go to waste.
Will I ever get rid of this horrible grime? 
Or will I always be saddled with this yucky slime.

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2020

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem


Whoever finds themselves alone,
To make their bed a slab of stone,
Goes there but for the grace of I
To contemplate the reason why.

Who knows the journey each have led?
The horrors which they may have fled.
Financial ruin is one such fate,
Or just hard luck, the loss is great!

And so, a life where pride is lost
To forage bins at any cost.
Where passersby will turn their heads
To go home to their comfy beds.

A placard scratched out more in hope
Disguises that they fail to cope
And thus, the empty cups reveal
The hopelessness they can’t conceal.

The cold and bitter winters night,
The cardboard box for which they’ll fight,
May stave off hypothermia
But do little for insomnia!

It’s miserable to say the least,
The fact that they will never feast
Or just to shower, enjoy a cuddle,
Instead a lowly fire they huddle.

Have we now become so cruel?
Whereby society will often drool
On celebrities who matter not,
Whilst these poor souls are thus forgot! 

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

The hippo and the kangaroo

A hippo and a kangaroo
were in a bar in Kathmandu. 
The hippo ordered a cold beer,
let us make that very clear.
The kangaroo on the other hand
was clever enough to understand
that getting drunk in Katmandu
is not the wisest thing to do!

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

Poetry Soup

What is this thing called Poetry Soup?
I googled it thinking, is this a coup? 
A place for many a brilliant mind
to share their verses of a varied kind. 

A community of happy and troubled souls,
real people, diverse with different goals, 
who exchange empathy, concern or praise
and post their poems so awareness they raise.

Each fraught with doubt but write they must do,
for the benefit of thousands, just like me and you.
They write for the love, not recognition as such,
in the hope you enjoy, ever so much!

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

Through your eyes

Through your eyes

Is the sky blue and the grass green?
It has to be because I’ve seen.
But your green might be my blue, 
I’m sorry that just wouldn’t do.
If the sky you see is my red,
I think I’d lie down in my bed. 
What if your grass is my pink?
I’d have to say that would stink!
Pink grass and red sky,
Dear oh dear, I’d surely die!
I’m glad my blue is my blue,
As far as I’m concerned that will do.
And I like my grass the green I see, 
For how else could it ever be?
Don’t want to see through your eyes,
Just might scare me with surprise! 

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

My humbug melts away

Here we go again,
I’ll have to count to ten,
It’s Christmas time once more,
Christmas songs ‘n every store.

It’s bound to cost a mint
It’s gunna make me skint
And all for just one day
Please make it go away!

The wife’s all in a tizz
I’ve forgotten the Buck’s Fizz 
And the Christmas tree’s not right
Not straight when it’s upright. 

And the Garland I’ve just bought
She tells me is too short 
And the lights are on the blink
Got to find that dodgy link.

The supermarket’s crammed,
The car parks are all jammed,
And the sprouts have gone amiss
Cannot cross them off my list!

But I do this every year
Trying to find the Christmas cheer
It seems a waste of time
But by New Year I’ll be fine. 

Then my granddaughter comes knocking
Wants to see her Christmas stocking
Then she reads her Santa’s list
Saying she wants ‘this and this and this!!’

So the humbug inside of me
Melts beside the Christmas tree
As she asks ‘grandad will it snow?’
I say ‘sweetheart let’s hope so!’

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

The Shopping List

It’s all of three feet long, in order it is not,
And then there’s all the other stuff she’s probably forgot,
The first thing on the list, it simply just says, ‘beans’,
Is that broad beans, baked beans, whatever does she mean?

Next is the marmalade, there’s a hundred in the store,
And if I get it wrong she’ll say, ‘it’s the one I had before!!’
There goes another ping, it’s the fifth message to date,
‘Don’t forget the milk’ it reads, ‘if you can accommodate?’

Next it is the bread - brown and white and crust,
With a helpful little note saying, ‘the thickness I’m not fussed!’
But the note that takes the biscuit states, ‘get something for tea!’
Now is that for the both of us or possibly just me?

Course the final item on the list takes me back to the first aisle,
It’s another lengthy trip, so far I’ve clocked a mile. 
I reach the checkout desk and there goes another ping,
It says ‘tomato sauce, oxo cubes and a pack of chicken wings.’

The checkout girl senses, my frustration and dismay,
By honestly enquiring, if I’m having a good day,
But I look at all the stuff she is bleeping at the till
And wonder how, with three bags, I’ll ever fit it in! 

At home comes the inquest of each item I have bought,
And all items not listed, I’m well and truly caught!
The marmalade is wrong, the butter isn’t light,
But think I’ve done quite well as it’s fifty percent right! 

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem

When your day goes wrong

No, no, no!! It’s half past ten!
So what happened to my alarm then?
A power cut!! That’s just my luck.
And now the toilet door is stuck!!

Brushing my teeth I hear a crack,
Oh no it's my front tooth cap,
I’m smiling with a toothless grin!
And the dentist cannot fit me in!’

The warning light tells me one thing,
My petrol tank has nothing in!
And the station’s twenty miles away,
To get there I can only pray.

The cyclist on the inner lane,
Shakes his fist, it’s all in vain,
For I’m driving like a man possessed,
A flash - a speeding fine no less! 

A message appears on my phone
It’s the missus, she needs a lift home
I have to assume that’s what she text
As I seem to have misplaced my reading specs!

Now my cell phone battery is low!
And the signal has no bars on show!
And each and every traffic light
Is showing red, as if to spite. 

Oh no!! What is that up ahead?
Traffic cones all white and red! 
The diversion is twenty miles,
But I soldier on - I’m in denial.

The flat tyre is the final straw,
I’ve no petrol and what’s more
I know it's a pointless task to fight
When your day doesn’t start out right!

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Ronald D Thompson Poem


Frederick did mount his bike.
‘Bye Mum I’m off for a hike’
he said, as he went on his way,
that day, one sunny Saturday. 

He was very close to running over, 
a snail emerging from the clover.
‘Too fast’ it said, ‘you’ll crush my shell’,
‘Why didn’t you just ring your bell?’

He carried on and rode some more,
Then saw a snake upon the floor.
‘Get past’ it said ‘you’re far too slow,
for across this path I need to go!’

He sped up at the snake’s request,
he simply thought that was best!
The trumpet sound forced a pause,
or an accident he would have caused. 

‘Don’t you look where you are going?’
said the elephant, his temper showing. 
‘To miss something as big as me,
means surely you cannot see!

Around the elephant he rode,
before he came across a toad,
who leaped Frederick, bike and all,
then shouted, ‘good job you’re not too tall!’

Frederick headed home, he’d had enough,
of all this really silly stuff.
‘Good ride?’ Frederick’s Mum enquired,
but she knew nothing as it transpired!

‘A talking snail, snake and toad,
forced me to cross the road
and the elephant I couldn’t see,
decided to have a go at me!’

His mother merely shook her head,
then demanded that he go to bed, 
‘Your lies Frederick are so absurd,
the most outrageous I’ve ever heard!’

Then Frederick's dad came running in,
‘You won’t believe what I’ve just seen?’
an elephant, toad, snail and snake,
of that there can be no mistake!’

‘Oh, my word’ his mother gasped,
‘what did they want? may I ask'.
‘To tell Frederick that they’re alright
Despite him giving them a fright.’

Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2019