Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,238 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Orchards Of Apple Trees - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Alone at the billfolds of my dogs,
At last with the joy of my scars: my loins drooling over
Another mountain of abandoned cars-
My mouth an opened jewel in the midday of class,
Halfway wondering where the swans have
The moon still visible in her negligee- an open lunch pail,
And way to believe, or to get out of here,
Where all of the eyes of the cannibals have been blinking over
The broken jaws of the stalagmites;
And I have nothing else to believe in, except you
Are beautiful, beautiful, Alma:
In a graveyard
Except that there is not a single apple left in all the orchards
That I know- in all of the orchards of apple trees.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about The Orchards Of Apple Trees by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Poem Edited: Friday, May 13, 2011

[Report Error]