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Best Poems Written by Tim Arnold

Below are the all-time best Tim Arnold poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Rumination On the Ruination of Water

Rumination on the ruination of water

A pleasant clearing with lots of grains
but only a touch of water,
the trickle trailed through transparently
and so the migrating chickens stayed,
but as the flock expanded there emerged 
the problem of the water flow 
both quantity and quality
To waste means want, to change or to clamber on 
the chickens debated cluck-ed and scold-ed.
Two sided and entrenched they were,
what option did they have, to move was foolish, 
would cost resources the time invested to purify 
much more worth a look, but studies said 
categorically, that nothing was amiss, 
while the trickle trailed through translucently.
They washed and scraped and pooed some more
and the trickle it did change, it now trailed through turgidly
and the chickens scolded and sickened.
Desperation enforced decision and debate resulted in action.
Powder was bought to make clean water but, there was no mixer
…and the costing was extorting… time for emergency measures!
Hang the cost  and go for broke, debt for future generations.
Dig and scrape and make a lake! …well at least a puny pool or pond…
providing clean and clear; crystal and ethereal,
surley this would be achieved. 
But before the water could reach the middle it passed
through mire deep and dense, there was no clause
in the contract to clean it and so;
the crystal water became a beautiful emerald. That it was a 
pulchritude, a positive feature the chickens were assured
by all of economic sense and ability. No one wanted to argue 
because they weren’t quite sure what it was they were told.
But still more scolding and sickening.
entrepreneurs began to stock their medicines and cures
the chickens bought them and rather than shift stayed in their rift.
That place downstream that plants had cleaned, lay green 
and fresh and forsaken. When this was raised they were horrified!
¨We would die!¨, the chickens did cry,  
rather than drink downstream of this mess.
So they did.
Except for the rooster who retired downstream, still visits above
to scrape and to scratch. The grains grow huge with their liquid food 
and, with a mist in his eye, he transcends the loss of his friends.   

©T.Arnold

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

So something has happened and you are not quite sure
What it is your woman is thinking
Don’t be confused or fret overlong
You only need a translation.
Just look at the words without the distraction
The emotion of the moment
The words stripped bare of the soothing tones
The dress up of dissimulation

This isn’t working ... (you guessed it) You’re Dumped
I wasn’t ready for this ... I was only playing
I’ve got too much on ... You’re not worth the time
I’m so busy ... Won’t/can’t share my life with you
It’s not you it’s me ... You’re not ‘enough’ for me
I’m sorting my priorities ... And you are not there (does she have a pet?)
I need time for family ... There is none left over for you
I want you to be a friend ... We’ll never be really close
I’ll understand if ‘friendship’ is too hard ... I don’t really care, just being polite
It’s not fair to you ... Wish you’d choose to go away
I’m confused ... There is someone else

No matter how it is dressed or dissembled
The results are clear to see.
See them sooner boys and perhaps retain
A semblance of dignity,
Remember men, (a word of caution)
there is no real difference between
romantic persistence and stalking .

For the women who read this,
Embarrassed, outraged!
Your mood is prompted by memories.
A reason please, men can take honesty,
But can you admit your mistakes?

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

Existentialism

Existentialism

What if this is reality but I am out of time?
Perhaps my step is syncopated with the other marching drones
and I am Zen and with the moment or perhaps I missed a beat
could I be disjoint and dislocate from  the moment we are in
Were I as little as two hours behind would
my reality be wholly appropriate?

Take pause, consider the consequence 
if the rest of the world were ahead
a mere two hours would be enough
to profoundly make a difference.

Why that would mean that only this morn
I was wholly indiscreet
I exposed myself in public
my shower was on the street!
I sang like Pavarotti well, with 
enthusiasm if not the skill
what must those passersby have thought?
“This madman will take a chill!”
Am I now wrapped up so tight
and safe in padded cell?

Think of your life were you two hours out
what did you do today?
When you made fun of the boss at lunch 
was it actually with your friends in keeping
or was it instead his 10 o'clock meeting,
do you still have a job at all?
How many wholly inappropriate acts 
are only OK because of their timing.

I think I can be confident 
of what is actually real
and what it is that exists 
but sometimes I absurdly worry 
about WHEN it actually is.  


©T.Arnold

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

The Problem With Movies

The problem with movies.

I’ve watched so many movies they
show a life not quite real
the insidious trap is that 
so many show
 how things should actually be.

On celluloid is shown so many things
that lift an audiences hopes,
connections can be made 
that reconnections are possible,
That redemption and heroism are real!

The movies are so convincing, 
suspend disbelief, allow hopes to lift
live shared moments of happiness, 
promise adventure cathartic release,
justice always gives satisfaction,
visions of love and battling evil
happiness and success.

Real life is not like that 
more complicated, less simple
much much longer,
and not in any way the ideal.
People are not enemies or friends, 
there is no clear love and hate,
shades and shades of drifting grey
now darker now lighter never constant.

Movie over and faced with life, 
should we feel betrayed, By whom? 
Directors producers for presenting ideals
ourselves for temporary hopes and belief?

The betrayal is that we’re shown what should be 
but cannot make it real.

©T.Arnold

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

Garbage Night

Garbage night

Bins line the road as I walk down the street
pristine and clean, rinsed in summers rain
but what filth and smells are lurking inside
the hidden interiors what disclosures
just waiting to be revealed
lidded and kept from view and inspection

My eyes pass over bins glistening lids 
to the houses which stand behind
I wonder about the idea 
which occurred to me in the street
and if a similar concept could be thought to apply
hidden behind brick facades 

My mind wanders on, to a newsagency
with the papers lined by the door
the daily dose of muck raking rag
shouting its’ headlines so bold
pedalling hate and fear for profit 
exhibiting what they’ve unearthed

and as my mind retreats this horror
and wanders back down the street
to find its’ body walking
the last thing it muses 
as it slips back into place,
our society looks so neat from here. 

©T.Arnold

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

Early Morning Tears

Early morning tears

Syncopated sounds of distress 
crying, pain from one 
frustration distress anger from the other 
drag me from bed in wee hours
to wander down the hall …
HEY! … Stop! …easy, … easy. Shhh.
I know you’re upsetfrustrated
it is frustrating when he doesn’t settle
its ok to cry
but don’t get angry, don’t do that.
that won’t stop him.
Just make it worse,
put him down let him cry
let me hold you a little
lean on my shoulder, calm down
you’re overtired, fretting too much
go to bed and I’ll stay with him
I’ll take him to the other end of the house 
so you can sleep. Goodnight.
Ahh my boy, you’re upset tonight, 
and now a little scared
don’t worry, 
I’m only gonna sway with you a little.
Mum loves you
she’s just tired, angry with herself
because she wants to make you happy.
Hmmm, your nappy’s wet,
lets change that, and 
a little cream for the rash.
Good, now lets walk and sway 
while your formula heats
I’ll sing quietly while we wait …
ahh you were hungry
now we are still
you are so focussed
so contented, look at that,
the bottle finished you’re a little droopy.
Not yet, don’t sleep yet,
Lets burp first
whoops, a little puke,
ahh there we are 
fed and degassed
looks like you and me on the couch
so mum can rest till morning
sleep well my boy.
©T.Arnold

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

Unwelcome Intrusion

Unwelcome intrusion

Driving along a country road
dry dust billows behind
heading to work on a summer morn
the heat is yet to rise.

Early gold light in clear blue sky
brush stroke whispy clouds
bluegrey bush and fading mist
dew still on the ground.

Down a hill and round a bend
moving slower now
a wedgetail eagle looks up at me 
over a roadkill repast.

He half spreads wings and glares at me 
as I approach and pass
backs a bouncing step or two
so close I reflect in his eyes.

That instant the Eagle makes so clear
though I’m large he has beak and claw 
wingspan greater than mine, 
I’d regret it if I stopped for his food.

I imagine this noble king of birds
standing in the dust of my wake
thinking of noisy and impolite humans
to him, an unwelcome intrusion.

©T.Arnold

Details | Tim Arnold Poem

Toadlet

Toadlet

Sitting smoking at stupid am
well before coming dawns glow
disturbed from restless sweaty sleep
by spattering mill or two of rain
and as I sit on damp door steps
a toadlet hops into the light 
peeking out from my window.

Bedazzeled she freezes I watch we wait 
we listen together to night
I look away she takes the chance
she moves, a tiny hop,
and freezes once again
I lift my hand and guide my shadow
Towards and over her
She hops and freezes.

We do this dance she and I 
A few times round together,
(I flatter myself, it’s just her instinct 
To avoid all silent night predators)
So I cease my torment of unwanted attention
Directed at this young lady
She is questing for a mate
Using damp for safer travel
Seeking a boasting alluring call

She makes damp grass 
And in a great leap
Disappears into the night
While there I sit in self important
vestments of human skin, but.
 it occurs to me that her life’s mission 
Is no less important than mine
She seeks to survive to find a mate
to raise her tadpoles safe and well
in a home with comfort and food


What more does any creature seek 
When life is stripped of dross
I dust off my human arrogance
And sincerely wish her luck 
Sigh get up and go inside
for large cool drink 
and hopefully sleep.
©T.Arnold

Best Poems Written by Tim Arnold

Fireworks

Origami

Rumination On the Ruination of Water

Translation

Existentialism

The Problem With Movies

Garbage Night

Early Morning Tears

Unwelcome Intrusion

Toadlet