Home » Poems » Best » Flynn Bates » Best Flynn Bates Poems

Best Poems Written by Flynn Bates

Below are the all-time best Flynn Bates poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Flynn Bates Poem

Imagination

I came to thee by the Rumbum tree,
when you were the height of the grasshopper's knee,
Came a trumping sounded as a fruit fell free,
landing with a splat, rumbumbly bee!

Well you could not believe your eyes!
Rumbum trees could tell no lies,
Their fruit it trumps and rumps and bumps,
It rumbles and bumbles and bumbly thumps!

I raise my head to look amongst the leaves,
Though they were bare from RumBum thieves!
Well, in shock, you looked toward me,
Spattered with the juice of the Rumbumb Tree!

You ran, I chased, Through the Bumbly Thump Grass,
Over the WobbledyBob hills and the overpass!
I caught you when came to a stop did thee-
to pick a fruit from a Rumbum Tree!

At last I stopped to gaze in wonder,
Perhaps to eat just one would be no blunder,
Trumpety Thump and Rumbly Bumble...
WobbledyBob and RumBum tree...

I found out the fruit was very tasty!

Details | Flynn Bates Poem

Through The Neck Of A Broken Bottle

I met my daughter 7 days ago,
I saw her little face through the neck of a broken bottle,
One I’d thrown at her quivering mother,
In an intoxicated rage.

I screamed at her to shut her up,
I could not handle the crying or the stench,
I’d not do anything to fix it though,
It’s not my problem anyway.

I recall my daughter vaguely now,
Her screaming face cut as I take aim,
Seeing her tears through a broken bottle,
That silenced her tiny cries.

All at once I am an awful father,
My halls too silent to bare,
So i drown out the silence with drink,
To forget the awful thing I did.

Details | Flynn Bates Poem

I Am Hungry

I am hungry,
Like a matchbox girl in December,
Threadbare and falling apart,
Shivering as I stand alone.

I am hungry,
Like a teenage girl in front of a mirror,
Pinching her skin and breathing in,
Begging herself to be pretty.

I am hungry,
Like a stray dog in a blinding city,
Fighting for scraps amongst my kind,
Hoping to make it one more night.

I will always be hungry,
Like a matchbox girl,
Like a starving teen,
Like a stray dog.

I will always be hungry,
Shivering as I stand alone,
Begging myself to be pretty,
Hoping to make it one more night.

I will always be hungry,
Until I breath my final breath,
Until I avoid my last meal,
Until I fight my last fight.

Details | Flynn Bates Poem

Red Yellow Purple Grey

“Be Gentle..” I plead through water colour eyes,
As your brush traces my blank canvas,
Colour me red, purple, yellow, grey,
Cover me in fingerprints, bite marks, handprints, dismay.

“It's my first time..” I sigh as you approach me,
You knew what you had come for as you see red,
‘To paint’ you sigh as your grey eyes fall,
‘To love’ yellow words paint my skin.

“It hurts..” I shriek as you start to work,
Paintbrushes turn to box cutters,
Gentle hands turn to strikes and screams,
Colouring me red, purple, yellow, grey.

“I don’t want to..” It doesn’t stop you now,
Red bruises turn purple, then grey,
Yellow paint runs from my veins,
As I lay torn, desolate, a mirage of your love.

Details | Flynn Bates Poem

Thinking Of Things For My Girlfriend

I dance with my girlfriend called Devvy,
I carry her to bed and I wed ye;
I'd offer my love,
or ten turtledove,
but I doubt I could afford t'a fee!

Details | Flynn Bates Poem

Awaking from Stupor

It’s not desire per say but the clinging sunlight,
bathing my skin and kissing my rosy cheeks,
as all but once I am awake again, 
with summer dancing in my eyes.

It is a moment before the darkness comes in,
that stifles the soul and stops hearts from singing,
but I blink away the sleep dust and continue,
afraid of slipping into my stupor once again. 

Enlivening silence sets our soul free,
So said the therapist to his patient,
preaching mindfulness over measured response, 
I try to listen, but I've forged my own path,

Vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree,
I can call myself truly awake and alive,
Walking in sunlight, dancing with angels,
Under the the clinging, enlivening sunlight.

So it is said:

it’s not desire per say but the clinging,
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing,
enlivening silence sets our soul free,
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree.