Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,281 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Robert Rorabeck Poems

2081. Expecting And Describing That Only She Can Be Real 1/25/2010
2082. The Band Plays Something That We Should Not Have To See 1/25/2010
2083. This Avalanche Of Lost And Melancholy Time 1/25/2010
2084. Cursing Every Hurricane 1/25/2010
2085. If He Isn'T Immortal 1/25/2010
2086. Toward The Finish Line 1/25/2010
2087. The Heart Of Me 1/25/2010
2088. That Very Afternoon 1/26/2010
2089. To Escape What She Is Doing 1/26/2010
2090. To The Rivers Or The Woods 1/26/2010
2091. The First Star Of Morning 1/26/2010
2092. Who We Intend To Be 1/26/2010
2093. In Such A Way 1/28/2010
2094. Before They Can Even Take Care To Step Aside 1/28/2010
2095. The Avenue On Eight Wheels Of Skates 1/28/2010
2096. Onto A Pillow Of Innocent Grass 1/28/2010
2097. In An Anonymous Week 1/28/2010
2098. Their Coffins And Their Tombstones 1/28/2010
2099. If You Know What You Do 1/28/2010
2100. Which Makes Me The Boss 1/28/2010
2101. Twice On Sundays 1/28/2010
2102. Sleeping Afterschool Against The Playgrounds 1/28/2010
2103. Diana 1/28/2010
2104. Blueberries 1/28/2010
2105. The Little Picassos 1/30/2010
2106. The Always Impossible Being 1/30/2010
2107. The Threshold Of A Vastly Apathetic World 1/30/2010
2108. The Seashore That Fit Her Abscense Perfectly 1/30/2010
2109. The World You Thought You Had Made 1/30/2010
2110. In Their Battalions Of Loneliness 1/30/2010
2111. The Riches Which Were His To Explore 1/30/2010
2112. That Wonderful Old English Summer 1/30/2010
2113. In The High Meadows Of Their Oh So Special Wars 1/30/2010
2114. That Awful Equation Of Occam's Easy Razor 1/30/2010
2115. How Little All Of That Must Cost 1/30/2010
2116. The Sweet Back Of The Far Flung Moon 1/30/2010
2117. The End Of The Week 1/30/2010
2118. The Promises That Were Never Made 1/30/2010
2119. To A Place I Am Sure Doesn'T Belong 1/30/2010
2120. Like Somniferous Tan Lines 1/30/2010

Comments about Robert Rorabeck

  • Z. M. Wise Z. M. Wise (4/23/2015 12:03:00 AM)

    From what minescule fragments of a stockpile of poetic brilliance, I am completely blown away by Mr. Rorabeck's work. From his style and influences to his timing, rhythm, etc...I hope he never ceases this archaic and timeless craft. POETRY LIVES! !

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Justin Reamer Justin Reamer (5/17/2012 12:41:00 PM)

    I believe Bret is a very good poet. He seems to know what it takes to be a good poet. His rime and rhythm is evenly matched, and he knows how to convey his message in his poem. His poetry is flowing and soothing to the ear. He is one of the best modern poets on this site.

  • Peter O'Brien (9/18/2011 1:53:00 PM)

    A lovely selection of poems! The silver & gold of of famous wordsmiths - Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Lorca, Whitman & others! 'These fragment have I shored against my ruin...'. thanks

  • Jim Troy (8/10/2011 5:56:00 AM)

    I have read just one and had to leave my applause.
    Gratefully looking forward, the honor to read more of your great works........Jim Troy

  • Jenda Lecroy (4/14/2010 9:14:00 PM)

    A true poet. Old soul, new life.

  • Virginie Guillemette (3/6/2008 1:41:00 PM)

    i really enjoy your work...i feel the sense of time given your words, as if you choose them as one chooses the ripest cherries in the pile. clever and from an honest place.

Best Poem of Robert Rorabeck

A Flower In The Rain

I want to fall on you like rain
upon a wildflower
Opening new reason from you
Scaring all the old bees away from
Pollinating your bed
Scaring all the fake men off who
Can only stand the sun
So it’s just me and you in the
The rabbits in the hole
The grasses are wet and beginning to bow
The forest is damp and sleepy
And in the meadow
I bend down and kiss your petals wetly
Falling all over you
Letting your pistil slip into my mouth
Sucking off your honey,
Almost plucking you
But not going so far
Just pulling you so that you can ...

Read the full of A Flower In The Rain


In bed with the early morning shadows
bleeding the night into another killing
where glorious colors like afterbirth flows
in nebular jets into the horizon’s bowl,
revealed, I have the presentiment that my
life will fail, and rising against my Northern
dreams, I secede against their human impulse
of hope, and the cities inside me scream,
“You will never have her. She will never love you! ”

[Report Error]