Rob Clarke
Rob Clarke Poems
Ho! Buffalo brother
How sad and sorry we must look
To these few folk gathered here.
See them push and jostle for a glimpse
...
Pharaoh's children played with these
(Roll 'em this way, roll 'em that.)
Down upon sand dusted knees.
(Roll 'em this way, roll 'em that.)
...
sun sets, pouring crimson adoration
over the nova scotian snow.
homeward to margaret he goes -
willis, on his homemade wooden sledge,
...
Father, father! Tell me, what must I do?
What must I say to be compared with you?
...
I'm sitting here with me while
She's lying. There with him,
The healer who won't be healed
Becomes, instead, a martyr and
...
when ants put on their small white faces
and prance around in picnic places
they utter not a single word
for antomimes should not be heard.
...
A vulgar April moon leers down as
They stand necking carelessly in
The darkened, deserted schoolyard;
Enticing to the universal voyeur
...
Mercurial is my love for you;
Shape shifting apparition blithe.
In state of flux and never still
I dance with step unceasing lithe
...
These days I wake up
To the sound of sirens and
Mr. Wu screaming at his wife.
When I was young I woke up
...
At land's end she stands.
Ocean wind strikes granite face,
Soaring heavenward, exultant.
(It's a good day to fly.)
...
The storm blew in with maritime fury,
Drifting a long, white, frozen wave
The length of our farm's laneway.
The mailman slewed his VW to a stop
...
Geese are weird but losely-useful.
They wibble-wobble as they go
Around the barnyard, gracely-gooseful.
Watch them waddle to-and-fro.
...
Rob Clarke Biography
To quote John Lennon: 'I'm just a guy.' In this case, a guy who plays The Blues. And though I haven't the foggiest 'why' It's seems today I wear poet's shoes. Born and raised on the East Coast of Canada some 50 very odd years ago. Divorced, Two great kids, bothin post grad studies. Playing in a very promising blues 5 piece called BLUEZFERYOUZ. Harp, rythmn and slide guitar and lead vocals. Gotta great woman and, except for very uncooperative knees, pretty good health. Got a cat - Matt The Blues Cat - he's my baby! Been writing poetry since I could write anything at all but the last 10 years or so have seen me writing lyrics not poetry. Stumbled on this site whilst looking for the words to Nature by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Great Xmas poem) and I do believe I'll stay. Cheers, Rob)
The Best Poem Of Rob Clarke
Sioux Warrior's Last Buffalo Hunt
Ho! Buffalo brother
How sad and sorry we must look
To these few folk gathered here.
See them push and jostle for a glimpse
Of regality so lately lost.
Earning our daily bread,
We keep soul and flesh as one
By pretending to be ourselves
While the spirit in us slowly dies
Never counting up the cost.
The Miller Boys count coup
Because I hunt you one last time.
They've sprung me from the white stockade!
Now I'm riding in some soulless, white man's thing
Around the ring of One-O-One.
You stand there, motionless for a moment,
Not knowing what to do.
Maybe you are simply lost in prairie dreaming;
Endless sky, dry grass and dust,
The great migration just begun.
When my grandfather hunted yours
Our people were too many for us to count.
Your sea of hooves ground the plains to powder.
We asked the Great Spirit for deliverance.
He heard our prayer and sent us you.
But now we are laid low
By whiskey, bullets and bad planning.
Your kind are nearly gone.
My kind have no home left to fight for;
The white man's burden nearly through.
Come now, buffalo brother!
We must not keep these human beings waiting!
They have bartered their Silver Eagles
To see old Yellow Hair's Destiny
Kill you one last time.
How I wish that they had loaded
This carbine with real bullets.
Then we would no longer suffer this indignity,
But, their bullets are as blank as my heart.
So, buffalo brother, do your job and I'll do mine.
Robert Clarke
Copyright 1995
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4/17/2024 7:13:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Rob This is a very moving touch of work with lots of emotions on a ride that ends so smoothly I am fond of this poem Dicky Cantrell