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Best Poems Written by Peter Brown

Below are the all-time best Peter Brown poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Tears

Beautiful
Newborn baby
In mothers arms
Her first gentle smile
Tears

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Spring Crocus

Crocus
Majestic flower
Pushing through snow
First sign of spring
Beautiful

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Birds

Swift does the shallow river flow
beneath the trees that upwards grow,
Kingfishers sit on a shoreline rock
hunting fish in the water below

Starlings swarm in a large blue flock
at dusk and dawn at six of the clock,
A stunning spectacle that's a must to see
while sitting on a boat in the dock

Gulls and Terns bob about on the sea
before they depart like an irate banshee,
they swoop and dive in an aerial tableau
a sight to be seen and a thing of beauty

Sandpiper, Whimbrel and Plover are seen
from high water to surf and points in between.

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A Day Off

I'm not going into work today
I'm taking a day off to rest,
I've been feeling under the weather of late
and really not up to my best.
I've taken some of my holiday
I didn't want to go sick,
As sickness can bugger your prospects
when it comes to promotion real quick.

I don't think I've got the man flu
my head is perfectly clear,
It's something to do with internals
and could be quite serious I fear,
I've got a touch of arthritis
damaged liver and kidneys as well
New ailments are not unexpected
but on something I don't want to dwell.

I generally feel better in summer
when the sunshine warm's up my bones,
I can move about a lot freer
which lessens the volume of groans,
My liver and kidneys are working
but not really up to the mark,
I really must look on the bright side
as the future could really be stark.

I'd love to play with my grand kids
and roll about on the floor,
But that would be really stupid
as rising will be such a chore,
The best I can do at the moment
is have them sit on my lap,
So I can read them a story
before I need a long nap.

In summer we go for a walk in the park
so they can smell all the flowers
With stick in each hand I toddle behind
so a five minute walk lasts for hours.
They really make me so happy
all playful and so full of fun,
When flying a kite in the warm summer wind
or lazing about in the sun.

But "Granddad" is not all that mobile
his joints just don't want to play,
He'd rather be young fit and healthy
than acting a statue all day,
Please don't think I spend my time moaning
or whinging to any degree,
I always do look on the bright side
as there are people in worse states than me.

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The Cottage

Down verdant lanes and muddy tracks
a neglected cottage dwells
encroaching growth of trees and grass
and long gone last farewells.

Broken slates and shattered brick
with ivy clinging tight
encrusted panes and shattered frames
suppress and block the light.

An open door on one hinge swings
to entice and crave attention
to an inky dark forlorn and stark
with a feeling of apprehension.

Wallpaper hangs in tattered threads
mould and damp abundant
an upward stair a broken pipe
water flows inundant.

No longer fit for family life
it's memories fading fast
of children playing in the halls
in a dim and distant past.

Down verdant lanes and muddy tracks
a neglected cottage fading
into the undergrowth of life
and memories remaining.

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Anticipation

I stand and wait by the garden gate
My object of affection is fashionably late
When she appears she will be mine
For a wedding is planned to celebrate.

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Kites

Warm winds blowing hard
Children play in country park
Red kites fly high

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The Bus In Bay 6

Of bus stations I have known, this is by far the worst
A post Victorian folly that's a post Victorian curse.

A waiting room that's cold and dark a room ground down with grime
A fire bricked up no form of heat a floor all wet with slime.

A tiny little bus station behind the old town hall,
Six tiny little bus stands beside a red brick wall.

Built for smaller busses to host sightseeing tours,
For transport to the seaside or the rugged northern moors.

Congestion in the timetable brings many busses in,
To squeeze into the bus station like sardines in a tin.

December winds are blowing hard bring snow in from the north
The crowds just praying for their bus so they can sally forth.

The "Counties" bus at bus stand six is driver-less once more,
It's passengers stand huddled up outside the tight shut door.

The wind still blows the snow gets deep and piles up in the gutter,
The bus can't move the drivers lost the crowd are in a flutter.

At long long last a "rep" appears his clip board boldly waving,
All services canceled for the day it's time to hit the paving.

All services canceled can't get to work I'm wasting my time remaining,
For an act of God is an act of God and there's really no point in complaining.

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Inner Warmth I

Cold winter morning
Bubbling porridge pot on stove
Warm feeling inside

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Hospital Visit

The hospital corridors are silent
but outpatients reception is busy,
muffled voices are heard behind closed doors,
a shuffling dressing gown stalks the silent halls
in fluffy slippers pushing a drip stand,
waiting patients just in from the cold 
disrobe. "Heather" the tannoy remarks,
assessment room three is empty for you,
"Heather" departs, a young girl is frightened
she hug her mum tight, a blood test awaits,
it won't hurt much she says, just a little jab.
appointment for 9 but no movement by 10,
a white uniform amazon appears,
seven vials of blood later I'm let go,
Ray of the X-Ray takes me in tow, strip off
he says chin on the bar make like the chicken.
chest out, big breath, hold it, relax and breath,
you're wearing a cross, chin on the bar,
big breath, hold it, hold it, hold it, relax.
back to reception tell them you're done,
now pay 6.50 for a latte and biscuit,
you've been done, should have had a water.