Andy Brookes

Gold Star - 39,170 Points (11 May 1954 / Macclesfield)

Andy Brookes Poems

161. Damp Squib 6/29/2016
162. Museless 7/5/2016
163. Chopped Liver? (Another Poem That No One Will Read) 7/5/2016
164. Wuddled Mords (C W T M 50) 7/6/2016
165. Sodding Sodden 7/6/2016
166. Loonie Tombs (C W T M 51) 7/6/2016
167. A Racket For Racquets 7/7/2016
168. Passers By 7/8/2016
169. Snippets 7/8/2016
170. Body In The Corridor (C W T M 54) 7/8/2016
171. Left In The Wake (C W T M 55) 7/10/2016
172. Disc Edged Dusk 7/23/2016
173. Soggy Bottoms (C W T M 60) 7/26/2016
174. Personal Poets Panegyric Pean 7/26/2016
175. She Who Must Be Obeyed (C W T M 65) 8/11/2016
176. Out Going Tide 8/28/2016
177. Hunter And Prey 8/30/2016
178. A Plea For Rhyming Poets 8/30/2016
179. Bejewelled 8/31/2016
180. Death's Something To Hold On To, So Sure And Certain. 9/1/2016
181. Invisibility Pill Conversation With The Muse 108 9/1/2016
182. The Art Of Politness And Stiff Upper Lips 9/2/2016
183. The Cat And The Canary A Tale From The Psychiatrists Couch Or Conversation With The Muse 110 9/3/2016
184. Unrendered Seascape Conversation With The Muse 120 9/5/2016
185. 'Collywobbles' Conversation With The Muse 136 9/10/2016
186. Life Runs Too Swift 9/11/2016
187. Autumn's Decent 10/12/2016
188. Unborn Forms 10/12/2016
189. Green Whales In A Purple Sea 10/13/2016
190. Emancipated 10/13/2016
191. Corrugations, Gurgles And Umbrellas 10/13/2016
192. Catching Cold Craving Complex Cliches 10/14/2016
193. Feast For Crows 10/14/2016
194. Testimony 10/14/2016
195. The Borderman 10/16/2016
196. Croc Du Croc A Nonsence Verse A Few Crocks Take A Walk 10/16/2016
197. Soliloquy On The Cryptic Crossing Swords With The Crossword 10/18/2016
198. Oxford Overlord 10/19/2016
199. Comedy, Irony And Seriousness 10/19/2016
200. Comedy, Irony And Seriousness Ii 10/19/2016

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Best Poem of Andy Brookes

I'm Only Human

I work my fingers to the bone,
And I know I shouldn't moan.
Not get upset about my work,
If criticised by some jerk.

It's sad to say, my skin is thin,
Tough exterior, soft within.
I try so not to let it hurt,
When hit by a poem expert.

I know I have a lot to learn,
But cruel remarks, they just burn.
And you know I have no fear,
Of ever becoming like Shakespeare.

I write just whims, airy fancies,
Which people stab with their lances.
With their thrusts they put me down,
Making me feel like a clown.

But be it good or be it ...

Read the full of I'm Only Human

Broken Pen

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