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Best Poems Written by Andy Mears

Below are the all-time best Andy Mears poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Blind Date

This single black crow
Would like to meet like minded
Worm for dinner date

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I Am But A Poet

I am but a poet.
A rhyming cavalier
Expressing words I'm thinking
Until my mind is clear
Counting all the syllables 
The consonants and the nouns
Letting my emotions run freely
Through villages and towns

I am but a poet.
The words that I create
Are written with a passion
So others can relate
They fill the head with magic
Bring laughs and tears alike
Expressing all your feelings
When stood up on an open mic

I am but a poet.
Not Shakespeare, if you please.
Sonnets are not my forte
Odes not my expertise
I am a free thinker
Scribing poems to make you think
Of nature and our planet
Putting my frustrations down in ink

I am but a poet.
With each sentence that I write
Are pieces of my being
My emotions in plain sight
Building up a picture
Where my thoughts are at
Filling empty pages
With every this and that

I am but a poet.
My words float on the air
Flying to its suitor
With each stanza that I share
Bringing a different feeling
To each and every soul
I am but a poet
And rhyming is my goal

©? Andrew Mears 2024

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Winter Morn

Winter morning, darkness clings with angelic might
Its moonlight respendently glows
Guiding wayward travellers safely home
Sunlight, rested, ready, Its brethren orb weary
Hands dutifully the baton 
Solar strength summoned, bringing comfort home

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Silhouette

I took it in my palm
A stray that looked familiar
Confused, lost, beaten
It was my silhouette
It had left me a decade by
We had a difference of opinion
And we walked a separate road
I'd often think of him
In passing
In a shop window reflection
In a quiet winter morn
When I was alone
We had been close once
Fought battles in playgrounds
Lay beside me in darker times
When hormones grew
And life was confusing
He held my hand
Whispered the right words
That brought comfort
I missed him
It made me sad 
That I could be alone in a crowded room
My wingman somewhere, lost too?
Missing me, maybe, maybe not!
Today though unexpected he returned
Bedraggled, worn at the seams
Just like me, I suppose
That mattered not 
Just that he was here
My true friend home
Together once more
We sat for a while
Hugged, traded times
Then drifted, to sleep
And dreamt of tomorrow.

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My Name Is Poetry

Hi my name is poetry
Not the toughest guy on the street
I am full of mindful phrases
Not the genre you rush to meet

My words are thought provoking
Of metaphors and rhyme
You could grow to like me
If you only had the time

I can bring new meaning
To any subject that you please
A self help journal of discovery
To make you feel at ease

I am the lyrical entertainer
With each stanza that I write
Prompting broad emotions
That are hidden in plain sight

Are you a poetry lover?
Would this genre be your choice
Listening to personal reflections
Expressed through another's voice

Trying to find in poetry
A beautiful work of art?
Whilst staring in the distance
Agonising over a prompt to start

Breaking down the barriers
Saying goodbye to faceless rhymes
Learning from the classics
And update to modern times

Identify the subject matter
A clear message you can portray
Turning your undeveloped thoughts
Into a masterpiece one day

Let poetry be your compass
To steer you on your way
Bringing culture to the masses
In your own individual way

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Calm Be The Night

Who listens to my shouts in the night?
When my beating heart rises and my breath falls short.
A silhouette seeks passage in a shrouded cloak and my scripts are composed for one.
Who is the creator of my subconscious soliloquy which narrates into an empty room? No encore sought, just a faded thought grasped in the morning light.
Exhausted, my sweat drowns in a cotton wrap, beaten, submission arrives when my eyes meet  the sanctuary of dawn.The epilogue is short, the words fall silent when my limbs, now weary, rise from its stage.
Each night, a mare of twisted verbs that weave and  turn. This suitor haunted through nocturnal tales where rest is brief and the journey fraught. My torment continues through the lottery of night. Let this one be calm?

REM disorder
Neurological disease
Seeking a cure soon

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Does It Rhyme

Is a poem not a poem
If it doesn't rhyme
Some would state quite clearly
It is literally a crime

So lets explore, trying not to ignore
The many forms that exist
Some are common, some are rare
And there are some I will have missed

There are haiku's and limericks
Cinquains and triolets
Dizains and sonnets
There are villenelles and paradelles
Sestina's and rondels
Golden shovels and palindromes
There are odes and elergy's
Pastoral and epics
Ballads and acrostic's
There are found and couplet
Calligram and loop
concrete and prose
And many more than those

But what is abundantly clear
And I make it known today
The role of a poem
Is the messages you convey

It has alliteration, communication
Imagery and rules
It has structure and story
Meaning and musical
It has pentameter and line breaks
Synonyms and verse
Length and metaphor
A message to converse
It is a portrate, a story
A lesson on a page
A laugh, a tear
A philosophy for all age
It is couplets and emotion
Consonant and noun
Song lyrics without music
A story that you have found

But is it a poem if it doesn't rhyme?
Hopefully I can make it clear to see
That in this world of chaos
Free verse belongs in poetry

It is not about the rhyming
But the emotion within each verse
The pouring of your feelings
When your at your worst

Its the words that are the meaning
The message that we send
Not wether we search through thesaurus 
To make sure the word matches at the end

So write about anything you feel
And im sure you will now agree
That what really matters
Is that we all love poetry!

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Pay Attention

Sit, now put yourself in neutral, a car is there to drive
So listen very carefully if you want to stay alive
Don't tap out an email or look to check your hair
Or drag a last ciggie or change the station that's on air
Distraction is a killer, so pay attention to the road
Do yourself a favour and follow the highway code.

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A Smile

A smile, a fake facade I wheel out each day
It hides behind a scripted rhyme, its words fade
Fumbling, incoherent, searching for a way
Each gentle line, created but never played
Help, allow me to discover, find a way 
A purpose, a reason to why I was made
But this performance will repeat and repeat
As my reflection hides, reluctant to meet

For laughter was a distant friend, overused
Each occasion I would request you to call
An invitation sent, politely refused
Now I wonder, was there meaning to it all
As tears escape, I am totally confused
Where you the result of my sudden downfall
Please don't portray me being this hopeless case
Because there is a fake smile upon my face

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My Words

Why do I write?
These words rise from an invisible force.
Where the mind is taut and released in drips.
Cherry-picked random phrases find their way
To a virgin page
It spins, a lottery of love and hate 
Of calm and rage
That fills each line to engage 
A soul that yearns 
A fire that burns 
to release a creative age
Why these words and what do they mean?
If not picked, would they be seen?
Floating endlessly without a place
To fill what was then an empty space
For decades passed without a sign
That one day those words were mine
A miracle or meant to be
A million thoughts that came to me
Now, each day with more set free
All for the sake of literacy
I stretch my chains and try to see
Will this be my destiny?
Forming late in aged mind
Are the poems I am trying to find
That will dance and resonate
To feed my soul, to satiate
That crying voice, 

Have I a choice?

Will this thing that I have become
Make me strong or leave me numb
Only time will tell that tale
Will I win or will I fail?
Poetry, the coupling rhyme
A lyrical piece to last all time
Has come to me in infancy
To find this poetry that lives in me

Now years have passed, my road's been long
Finding out if I belong
Amongst my peers, I stand beside
No longer need to sit and hide
Standing tall, recite my thought
Grateful for the lessons taught
This small gift was bestowed on me
Will this be my legacy?

Andrew Mears