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Best Poems Written by Rob Bettridge

Below are the all-time best Rob Bettridge poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Write Your Own

The talentless, envious, plagiarist’s dream
Was to find someone’s ‘Works’ on a shelf or a beam
In a Pub, in a folder, alone and ignored
As the author lay slumped and as drunk as a lord

Stealthily taking those coveted sheets
He rushes off home via dimly lit streets
When his doors were all locked and the curtains drawn tight
He copied his windfall well into the night

First thing next day, not long after he’d phoned
He went to his agent with the stuff that he’d cloned
Dreaming of royalties and acclaim by his peers
But for him it was destined to end up in tears

There’s some gentlemen waiting for him in the hall
(His agent had asked two policemen to call)
“These poems aren’t yours, they’ve already been done
By that drunk in the pub, who is also my Son!”

So, if you aspire to a literary style
You should write your own poems or books but meanwhile
Twixt penning a story, blank verse or a rhyme
Keep your hands off my stuff or be Shamed for your Crime!

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Peace At Last - a Collaboration With Jan Allison

There are women who feel a strong need
To nag men until their ears bleed
In a war of attrition
With relentless petition
Is a cruel way to make men concede
 
Men wish for a life of peace
But get nagged by a tongue that won't cease
Men will just say
It's the female DNA
That must out in it's need for release

We can’t help it; we just HAVE to nag
Guess some folks would call us 'an old hag'
Men get on our nerves
When you paw at our curves
You should give up and wave the white flag

We can suffer from bad PMT,
Become ogres that men want to flee
We Scream and we Shout
Say We’ll throw you out
But for some reason you wont let us be
 
Better by far, we should try this next time 
It's effective and will prove sublime
By wearing Earplugs
In each of our Lugs
We'll be laughing, whilst nagging - in Mime

Laughing together will lighten our day
It's a tonic to chase all our problems away
For a really Big Smile
Can last a long while
And we'll both get on better that way

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Carp Fishing In Winter

Why do I do it, It’s hard to explain
This obsession that’s driving me slowly insane
The dark hours seem endless, the boredom intense
You would think at my age I’d have more common sense

The weather’s ‘Brass Monkey’ bitter and bleak
With many blank sessions for many a week
In pursuit of the Carp that might come my way
Making this session a red letter day

Watching and waiting or making a brew                   
Tying more rigs or warming a stew                                                   
As I sit in my Bivvy set up by the lake
Hoping a Carp will just make one mistake

Darkness gives way to a creeping daylight
I am now well alert for a feeding spell bite
Should I re-cast new baits to better positions 
Or leave well alone, Ah! Decisions, decisions

My Bivvy’s an Igloo, glistening white
(My Rod, Pod and Buzzers got frozen last night)
The lake, from my bed chair, seems peaceful and quiet
When my left rod and buzzer erupt in a riot!

Out in a flash and strike into a fish
This feeling is magic and all I could wish
All the blanking and waiting and doubts that I get             
Are gone as my Carp glides safe into my net

There are not many Carping and I like it that way                           
I can choose any ‘Swim’ that I want, any day
Yes, Carping in Winter is special, if slow
With each triumph hard fought for and that’s why I go

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

End Game

False Dawn's ribbon invades the night
Fear forbids to close my weary eyes 
Drift off, away, never more to rise
What's the point of hanging on?
Should I give in, Let be done?
Riddled body... Lying quiet
I have said my farewells
A lonely tolling of Bells
Kind Spirits implore
Calm acceptance
Of Time called 
To embrace
A new life
With our
Maker
From
Now
On
.

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Pleasure Angling

Cast to the left of me, cast to my right
Cast out in front of me but I can’t get a bite
I’ve changed my tactics many times, tried legering and float
And now the heavy pouring rain has soaked right through my coat

Eyes peeled, alert, despite the odds, I fish my chosen spot
The Brolly that I thought I'd packed is one that I forgot!
The Net I Have brought with me lies unused and at my side
I tell myself, I'll catch one soon and many more beside

Non anglers think we’re barmy and all who fish are mad
“To be obsessed with drowning worms is only for the sad”
But non angling folk have no idea of the Buzz when the line goes tight
And the adrenalin rush when the fish is on and the rod bends to the fight 

Worms and Maggots, corn and flake on every size of hook
I’ve used up all the tricks I know, it seems I’m out of luck
The weather’s gone from bad to worse and now the wind’s a gale
I should be in a nice warm pub and supping pints of ale
 
Not every day is action packed with solid bites and takes
When your angling comes together with very few mistakes
There are days like this when nothing’s right and all you try’s in vain
Just fishing on with not a bite seems pointless and insane

Any size of fish would do, just to avoid a 'Blank'
What’s this! A twitch! About time too, my inert float just sank
I’m getting lots of bites at last ('though the fishless hours were Rotten)
Now it’s a bite with every cast and all before is forgotten

I have learned a bit and caught a few to finish off my day
Carefully I’ve set them free and watched them swim away
I am all packed up but before I go there is one last look to see
That I’ve left it clean and tidy for those who follow me

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Man Cold

Why am I grouchy, tired and upset?
And why can’t I cheer up like others I’ve met
Who go on their way as though walking on air?
Smiling and humming with nary a care

My friends have all shunned me and it’s getting me down
I can’t lift my spirits or shake off my frown
All I can do is to carp and to moan
I suppose that’s the reason I’m left on my own

Is it ‘cause I’m ratty or my jokes are so bad?
Is my aftershave chronic or my clothes really sad?
I am getting a complex, I can’t work it out
What is causing my anguish as I go about?

I should show my mettle, be macho and tough
(But it’s hard to be manly when feeling so rough)
And never show weakness, striving never to fold
But this is quite different; I’m a Bloke with a Cold!!

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Thanks For Your Welcome

'LINDA' and 'SKAT', are two of the group
Who welcomed me warmly to 'Poetry Soup'
They are poetic Sisters with different names
Who are supportive stalwarts and creative dames

To all fellow 'Soupers', I'm so pleased to say
That I'm happy to join you and in my own way  
I'll be writing more soon but it's here I must pause
While I give you my thanks and a round of applause.

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Facing Up To Cancer

Thought I’d be fine, I just hadn’t a clue
 You never think it could happen to you.
 Shock and denial raced to the fore
 My head is in bits, can’t think straight anymore

 Unaware, in the dark, attacked from behind
 Fear grows from not knowing and cripples the mind
 Knowledge I've gained, Strengthened me for the fight
 It’s like someone turned on a very bright light

 I see you now clearly, I recognise you
 As the Beast that would kill me, 'cause that’s what you do
 So now I'm aware of what must be done
 There's no way I'll give in without taking you on

 I am not on my own, I’m supported each day
 With weapons to Cut you or Nuke you away
 From my body and mind until I have won 
 Or controlled and pegged back 'til you’re on the run

 I will look in your eye and you will soon know
 That I've got what it takes to give You a 'Square Go'
 With the support that I have, we will fight tooth and nail.
 As we battle you Cancer and we Will prevail.

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

'hes Bent' - Updated Collaboration With Jan Allison

I feel terribly sorry for Rodger
He developed a kink in his todger
It looked such a sight
when bent to the right
that his poor wife ran off with the lodger! 

When his wife ran away from poor Rodger
Because of the shape of his todger
He cried and he moped
When she upped and eloped
In the dead of the night with the Lodger

But why feel so sorry for Rodger?
Who developed a kink in his todger
There are many that will
(Who just for the thrill)
Put a Smile on the face of that Codger

He is proud that he's now in demand
By those that admire his new stand
If kinky it seems
If only in dreams
To be diddled by Rodger's bent gland

Now Rodger's a Porn Star, of late
Busy making the most of his fate
Though by straining too much
It has worn down a touch
To the point of appearing quite straight

Impressed by events from afar
Of her Ex who became a Porn Star
She planned for a tryst
Twixt the hubby she missed
And the lodger.... 'Ménage à trois'

In the sack with Rodger and lodger
She did not expect them to dodge her
When they started to play
(To her utter dismay)
The lodger proved More bent than Rodger

When faced with their naughty nature
Which was something she just couldn't savour
Having quite lost her mind
She struck from behind
At the roots of their sordid behaviour

She didn't hold back from the guys
Extracting their blood and their cries 
Antics nipped in the Bud
Not surprised that she would
Kick them out with raw fear in their eyes

Poor Rodger could no longer perform
He became so sad and forlorn
He saw his GP
For a costly fee
Could his todger be put back to norm?

His doc said he would operate
Get his todger to an upright state
to Rodger’s surprise
his todger could rise
now he needs to recuperate

So having been kicked into touch
They are walking with help from a crutch
Both Rodger and lodger
Keep trying to dodge her
As She has become a Dom Butch

She wears Fetish outfits so shocking
And Schools her pet subs with cruel mocking
When she's bound them with chain
The screams from their pain
Sees their lashes increase without stopping

Rodger and lodger; Now Cuckolds
Enslaved by their Bonds and Blindfolds 
Feel the bite of her Crop 
But don't wish her to stop
The control over them that she holds


(The Moral)

Be careful of what you may wish for
There could be surprises in store
Wishing all that you might
It could still be your plight
To get what you wished for - And More!


Collaboration with JAN ALLISON

Details | Rob Bettridge Poem

Once a Month

She’s doing my head in; I'm at my wits end
I reckon she’s losing the plot
Her tempers are fierce and her moods have no trend
And I’m struggling to deal with the way that she’s got

She gives me no warning of what is in store
And erupts at the drop of a hat
I’ve stopped trying to find out what is wrong anymore
Why she finds fault in this and in that

My once gentle darling is now snapping and snarling
And all that I do is still wrong
Being caring and loving, reassuring and giving
Brings even more spite from her tongue                        

This female behaviour that causes such stress
(That in men would be labelled ‘Quite Mad’)
Has no rhyming or reason but when it’s in season
PMT wears us blokes down a tad

Who else would she pick on to let it all out?                  
When the needle goes into the Red
Well I’ve had enough; I’m not taking her ‘Stuff’!
So I’ve gone ‘til she sorts out her Head.