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Best Poems Written by Martyn Oakland

Below are the all-time best Martyn Oakland poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Thats Not My Elephant

Thats not my Elephant! it just followed me home. 
I tried to shake it off, but shes like a dog with a bone.

So i made her feel welcome with balloons and confetti, 
filled my pool for a bath and fed her spaghetti.

I even gave her a name and christened her Ella,
we became the best of friends and lived happily together.

Until one day a man from the council came round, 
"your neighbours are complaining of an Elephant type sound."

"You can search high and low, theres no Elephant in my house."
He began in the basement, but all he found was a mouse.

He then prowled through the bedrooms, 
even the cupboard under the stairs.
"Do you know how big Elephants are, you won`t find one there."

Then he walked through the garden, he`d never seen such a sight.
"Theres an Elephant in your shed, ill have to read you the bill of rights."

Then they took Ella away and she was dumped in the zoo, 
where snotty nosed 2nd graders call her names and shout Boo!
That was my Elephant, but not anymore.
I still visit sometimes and we laugh like before.

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The End

Place the coins over my eyes,
and lay me down to sleep. 
This mortal coil has sprung its last,
its time for me to leave.

This time has been no time at all, 
its true they say it flyes, 
Id like to be a fly on the wall, 
to see the truths and lies. 

I was taught as a child that we die and move on, 
but i refuse to accept that is true. 
For as long as you live and as long as you love, 
i will live on through you.

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I Walk Alone Through the Wilderness

I walk alone through the wilderness, 
under the hue of Oak trees.
Aside the bustle of hedgerows,
over the debris of dead leaves.

Dew drops glimmer like diamonds,
cut by the sun.
Larks tweet a morning chorus,
and the busy bees hum.

The night owl turns in,
a fox scurries to his den.
A wee dor mouse is awoken, 
by the caw of a raven.

Mother nature surrounds me,
like the wisp of a breeze.
I`m never alone in the wilderness,
its the one place i`m free, at ease and at peace.



from england

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For Flo

Im riding high on the wings of change, 
making a break from the same old same.

Shes a crimson dusk night and a blue sky morning. 
her touch turns me numb, 
she should come with a warning.

She brings traffic to stand stills and ships to stall, 
i cant pull away so in deeper i fall.

Shes a crimson dusk night and a blue sky morning. 
Her kiss turns me to jelly, 
she should come with a warning.

I hold her so tightly that i forget to breathe, 
when she whispers my name i go weak at the knees.

Shes a crimson dusk night and a blue sky morning. 
her presence keeps me warm, 
she should come with a warning.

Shes the flicker from a flame, an enigmatic random spark.
Her face is etched upon my brain, 
her life force tattooed on my heart.

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Spicey

Fires blaze from deep within 
forged incandescent loins plait
ecstasy pulses through us 
our flesh becomes one

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Bitter Sweet Nothings

So easy in love, 
so easily out. 
With the flick of a switch, 
your left in no doubt.

Maybe someday she`ll realise, 
but then maybe she wont. 
What if now she feels alive, 
now that you dont.

We pull strings and play games, 
impassionately annoy. 
Passion becomes a crime 
when we play with hearts like they`re toys.

Now dont let them in, 
because you may have to smile. 
And theres always a risk that they`ll tear out your heart, 
and have it dangle awhile.

The risk is called love 
and it gives such a buzz. 
Its what makes us human 
and turns us to mush.

It goes up and comes down, 
brings laughter and pain. 
Once you`ve tasted it pure 
you`ll never be the same.

Loves a bitter sweet pill, 
not for the faint hearted. 
Some lose it to greed, envy or lust, 
while some lose it with their dear departed.

Whoever you love and however you live, 
dont dwell on the whys the what fors and what ifs.
Live each day as new and dont be scared to let go, 
because true love will not judge you, 
take you for granted or say no.

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Grandmas Poem

My grandma has always been to me, 
the best grandma there ever could be.

She was always head deep in fag ash and steam, 
be it baking a cake or sewing a seam.

Our christmas was full of laughter and cheer, 
with sprouts by the bucket load and balloons down the stairs.

With grandma there was no shades of grey, 
no whys or whats a spade is a spade.

And now shes in heaven with the lord our jesus, 

i bet shes telling him what to do, how to please us.
Now theres no better two words that rhyme with pokey, so ill just say ta-ta for now
gran.... Okey Kokey

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The Junction

There comes a time in everyones life, when you`ve had just enough of its stress` 
and strife.
You reach for a fag a spliff or the bottle, to dampen your senses, your nerves and 
your trouble.
But understand this before you tackle that junction, without tears without pain, we 
wouldnt properly function.

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Im Sorry

I put pen to paper to write you a song, 
but all i can hear is your name.
It sits waiting on the tip of my tongue, 
never to be spoken again.

The minutes turn to hours and the hours to days, 
yet the loss remains the same. 
It peaks and troughs, ebbs and flows,
occasionally hits like a tidal wave.

I know one day i`ll wake up and you`ll no longer be there,
in my thoughts and my dreams, or your essence in the air.
Until that time comes i`ll live day by new day, 
each one will get easier until the day when you say- i`m sorry