Get Your Premium Membership

Best Poems Written by Andy Morfett

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

View ALL Andy Morfett Poems

123
Details | Andy Morfett Poem

Mockery

A nosegay is just a bunch of flowers 
The 'Gift' is a bunch of special powers
A day is just twenty-four hours
Lemons and limes are a pair of sours

A poem is a group of words that rhyme
(At least they do some of the time)
Larceny is just a petty crime
Dirt is just another name for grime

To come out on top is to be the best
To act the fool is to jape and jest
To badger and annoy is to be a pest
Taking a nap is taking much needed rest

To press lips together is to enjoy a kiss
To yearn for someone is to really miss
Trying to find the meaning in all of this
Is to realise I'm just taking the...... !!!

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016



Details | Andy Morfett Poem

Girls Who Wear Glasses

Girls Who Wear Glasses

Girls who wear glasses 
Are seen as geeks or a nerd,
Which is the most ridiculous thing
That I've ever heard!

Girls who wear glasses
Are actually sexy and cool
Whether they’re petite little pixies
Or long-legged and tall.

Girls who wear glasses
Look intelligent and smart;
A look that has always 
Gone straight to my heart

Girls who wear glasses
Are to be praised and admired
And to be told frequently 
They are loved and desired!

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

I Won'T Forget You

I know that I won’t forget you
Did you ever believe that I would?
What we had together was special:
Magical, and exceptionally good.
Even though it’s now over
And we have parted amicably
There is a little piece of you
That will always be a part of me.

You inhabited my life for so many years
Gave me more than I probably deserved
Your love and loyalty and devotion
Was complete and unreserved
And I, in turn, gave you everything
To make you comfortable and happy
We got along pretty well, most of the time
I loved you and you loved me.

But something changed a while back now
There was something gone amiss
I could tell by the way you greeted me
I knew by brevity of your kiss
Oh, you tried hard to hide it from me
And I wanted to believe, and I really tried
But your lies and secretiveness
You could never successfully hide.

I should have confronted you maybe,
Forced the issue, brought it to light
But what would have been the point of that:
Who would have gained from such a fight?
So I swallowed my anguish and pain
And waited for the hammer to fall
Although it took longer than I expected it to
I lived in hope it would not fall at all.

You were kind and gentle with me
I cried and you cried too
It broke my fractured heart to agree that
You had to do what you needed to do
Even then I hoped against rational hope
You’d change your mind and you would stay
However, you just kissed me one last time
Then wiped your eyes and walked away.

So I sit here with my memories
The photographs, mementos and things
All the ephemera of our relationship
Such sadness some this stuff brings
Yet remembrances of happier times, too
Can still raise an affectionate smile
So I’ll sit here looking and remembering
At least for a little while

I know I won’t forget you
It’s not something I’m willing to do
However hurt and lonely I am 
I’ll always hold a candle for you
I will love you forever, no matter what
You are in my heart forever to stay
And maybe, if things don’t work out for you,
You’ll return home to me one day…

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

Do You Like Me

Sometimes I sit and wonder
What you see in me.
I’m not always the nicest guy around: 
Do you just choose not to see?

I don’t always say the right thing:
Put my foot in it often as not.
My big mouth causes me trouble
But it’s the only one I’ve got.

I know I’m not always considerate
Of how you feel and what you say.
How do you put up me like this
Day after day after day?

You know, I break my promises
I sincerely make to you
And often I don’t do what I say
I am going to do.

I’m stupid when you need sensible,
Often late when you want reliable.
I don’t always act my age
Drink too much and act the fool.

I’m untidy, lazy and a slob
I sure don’t pull my weight
I put a lot of pressure on
Your overburdened plate.

On the plus side, though
I know you laugh at me
Even if it’s unintentional
And inappropriately.

I buy you chocolates and flowers
On Valentines and your birthday
At Christmas I buy a present that costs 
More than I can afford to pay

I clean up after the dog daily
And empty the cat-litter tray as well
All because you say you cannot stand
The awful, disgusting smell.

I hug you and I tell you
When you look sexy as hell
(To be fair you say the same thing
To me, sometimes, as well)

I know I’m still crazy about you 
I tell you frequently
You say that you still feel the same
But do you really like me?

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

Look Through Any Window

If you could look through any window
Of any house on any given street,
You might find yourself quite surprised 
At the variety of people you would meet.

The couple at number twenty-three
Have been married nearly seven years
They are having another noisy row:
It will eventually end in tears.

The problem is, the whole street knows,
That he wants a family, she her career.
That relationship is heading just one way:
The divorce court beckons I fear.

Mr Bartholomew at number twenty-six
Nearly ninety years old if he’s a day.
Rarely gets out much any more
Since his wife recently passed away.

He has a carer, a middle-aged woman
Who is bright and bubbly
But she cannot give Bartholomew what he needs most:
Love, affection and company.

The businessman at number twenty-two
Is obese and past his prime.
He spends his money and his lunch hour
Seeking a much happier time.

In the arms of a young prostitute;
Lissom, lithe and beautiful.
With her he’s a young stud again
Not a silly, overweight, deluded fool.

The big house on the corner
Is owned by a couple who are gay
They keep themselves to themselves
They rarely have much to say.


However if you met either of them
You might get a nice surprise.
They are just two happy-go-lucky men:
Just two ordinary pleasant young guys.

Unlike her at twenty-five,
We all know her disgusting game:
She calls herself Miss Emilia Court
But she goes by another name

‘Mistress Cruella – Disciplinarian’
So her business card reads.
Apparently she takes care of
Perverted men’s sexual needs.

They parade in and out her door
All times of day and night.
The biggest surprise of all to me
Is that her house doesn’t boast a red light!

Barry Lane at number twenty-seven
Is home late again tonight.
His wife of fifteen long-suffering years
Can’t wait to put things right.

She knows what he’s up to,
He’s ‘played away’ before.
She’s had enough of being his doormat
She won’t take it anymore.

Her ultimatum will be non-negotiable:
The very final straw.
If he strays just one more time
She’ll finally show him the door.

In the small bedroom of number twenty
Tony Parker waits with anticipation
He’s got the house to himself for once
And he is waiting for his girlfriend Allison.

She promised that she will go ‘all the way’
It’ll be the first time for the teenage pair
Tony can barely catch his breath
As he waits for her there.

He is ready for this, he’s fully prepared
Condoms, flowers, a purloined bottle of wine.
At last! That gentle knock on the door.
Let’s wish them both a really good time.

The story could not be more different
For the couple at number twenty-eight
The spectre of impending death
Waits at the garden gate.

Cancer riddled and fading fast,
Ginette Masters is long past crying.
She has had over a year now
To get used to the idea of dying.

Her sadness is for her family
Her husband, daughter and son.
Who will take care of them 
When she is finally gone?

Number twenty-nine holds many secrets
Of domestic violence and abuse
If you closely at Martine Jones’s make-up
She’s concealing yet another bruise.

The police are regular visitors
To the Jones’s front door
They have taken Rhys Jones away 
Several time before.

But every time Martine lets him back home
After he promises he’ll change his ways.
I expect that there will be a murder enquiry
Conducted in that house one of these days.

By contrast Jim and Mabel Cousins
Have been married fifty years or more
They’ve lived every day of married life
At number twenty-four.

They brought up their family in that house
And the kids visit frequently,
With their own children in tow now:
That house is a happy place to be.

Number twenty-one is an enigma
At the moment it’s unoccupied.
Nobody seems able to settle there,
Though numerous folks have tried.

Couples, singles, young and older
Have all tried but not stayed long
The house looks perfectly ordinary
I wonder what could be wrong?

So, if you could look through any window
Of any house in the street where you reside
What secrets do you think would be uncovered?
More importantly, what secrets do YOU hide?

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016



Details | Andy Morfett Poem

A Poem For a Life

Be the bringer of peace 
In all you say and do
Be an oasis of calm 
When chaos surrounds you.

Try and do the right thing
And be upstanding always
Employ your moral compass
Throughout all your days

Be not the source of conflict
Nor of trouble or of strife
Be above all pettiness
Live a clean and blameless life

Take wisely the counsel of elders
Show them courtesy and respect
Even if you disagree
Do not their words reject

Be aware of your social standing
And of what it means to you
Abide by scruples and values
That influence all you do

Be loyal, honest and trustworthy
Be dedicated, reliable, caring
Earn your pleasure from giving
And of generous sharing.

Above all be the person you are:
Unique and wonderful
Be proud of all you stand for
With head held high and walking tall!

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

Domestic Scene

There are tears in her eyes
As the door slams and the glass rattles
And she watches his retreating back:
His tight, hunched shoulders
Containing his anger and frustration.

She sits and waits, chain-smoking
Cheap king-size cigarettes,
Wanting a cup of tea, but waiting
Until he comes home again
Calmer, like he always does.

This scene is familiar and she,
Like him, is word-perfect in her role
One she’d played for far too long.
She is bored and afraid; not of him
But of change and the unknown.

Later, she places a steaming cup of tea
At his elbow and forces a smile,
Her mind not on him, but upstairs
And the large, heavy suitcase
In their bedroom.

The scene is near-identical
To the ones they’ve played-out before, 
But this time she’s gone from player 
To director and changed the script.
This performance demands a different ending.

She will exit, stage left
And bow out of this production.
After eighteen years in the starring role
Of the long-suffering wife and mother
She is back in the market again. 

CUT!

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

I Have a Serious Case Of

I Have a Serious Case Of... (how the title SUPPOSED to look!!!)

Boredom.
Ennui.
Tedium.
Apathy.
Disinterest.
Indifference.
Lethargy.
Monotony.
Dullness.
Lassitude.
Listlessness.
Repetitiveness (repetitiveness).
Incuriosity.
Jadedness.
Disregard.
Immobility.
Unfocussed.
Distraction.
Disinclination.
Aversion.
Avoidance.
Discontentment…

… or just plain “cannot be arsed”!

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

Responsibility

How
Can you
Just stand there
And pretend that
You don’t see what is
Right in front of your face?
Denial will not cut it:
Take responsibility and
Take appropriate action to curb
The abuse of power by the rich few.

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2018

Details | Andy Morfett Poem

The Streets of Childhood

The streets I trod
As an innocent and naive child
Appeared as gold-paved and rosy-hued
And the brilliant light of optimism
Shone on all and everything,
Banishing worrisome dark shadows.
Only now as an adult,
Weary with experience
Does walking those same streets
Reveal their true character.

There are cracks in the pavements
And weeds line the kerbs.
The house windows seem malevolent
Like the eyes of a beast
Indigenous to the Concrete Jungle,
Waiting to pounce and devour
My childhood hopes and dreams.
Shadows are dark and mysterious
Filled with secret snickering and threat
Of unnameable hurt and pain.

The streets of my childhood
Are hardly changed in all the years
I have been maturing into adulthood.
I have changed and found perception.
How I wish to be a child again
And escape this cruel reality:
Rediscover the age of innocence
That once protected me from life.

Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2017

123

Book: Reflection on the Important Things