Rob Clarke

Rob Clarke Poems

Heat hovers above the road,


Cat pounce!
Bird scream!
Daughter comes runnin',
Cries 'Daddy, Daddy

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,

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

Father, father! Tell me, what must I do?
What must I say to be compared with you?


 Mercurial is my love for you;
Shape shifting apparition blithe.
In state of flux and never still
I dance with step unceasing lithe

 In her mouth
she held the moon.

it shone there,

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

Green Day

Heat hovers above the road,
A distortion of rural space,
Ready to pounce as we pass.
Out of the sun,
Emerald dragon flies
Dart at us, utterly harmless,
Yet sinister to the eye.
Our sure steps falter,
Just a little,
At their flash and flight.
We skirt the pond,
Scaring jittery cattle
From their afternoon refreshment.
Languid in the hoof smeared depression,
Its grey-green waters lie.
The mud smells vaguely
Of rancid oil.

Here there are frogs.

In the spring, jelly egg clusters
Hang like bunches of translucent grapes
In the stagnant water;
Each embryo, a black eye peering out.
Ridiculous tadpoles dart everywhere;
Later there are small frogs -
With tails! And by mid-summer,
Full grown leopards leap,
Ready for sport.
From the dark water
Frog eyes stare, expressionless,
As cicadas hiss at us.
From evergreen ambush
We raise our Daisies and take aim.

Robert Clarke
Copyright 1993

Rob Clarke Comments

Cantrell Dicky 17 January 2006

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

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