Robert Rorabeck

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

Robert Rorabeck Poems

3641. Taking Their Own Turns 10/8/2010
3642. That They Were Wrong 10/8/2010
3643. The Beginning Of Something Really Big 10/8/2010
3644. The Door That I Am Afraid That I Will Never See 10/10/2010
3645. The Neighborhood's Merry Go Round 10/10/2010
3646. Who Might Still Be Trying To Survive 10/10/2010
3647. Such Troubling Things 10/10/2010
3648. The Venom Of Rattlesnakes 10/10/2010
3649. Into The Richest Hillsides Of All Of Her Mexicos 10/10/2010
3650. Until I Have To Leave Myself 10/10/2010
3651. From The Reasons Towards Her Accords 10/10/2010
3652. Your Strange And Sad Numbers 10/10/2010
3653. From The Old Mailboxes 10/10/2010
3654. Her Playgrounds That She Cannot Possibly Remember 10/11/2010
3655. The Beauty Of Her Angles 10/11/2010
3656. The Vanquished Daylight Of What Man Had To Say 10/11/2010
3657. The First Car 10/11/2010
3658. Perspective 10/11/2010
3659. The Insatiable Mouth Of An Undefeatable Giant 10/11/2010
3660. Taking From Our Open Hands 10/11/2010
3661. Tender Box For Banshees 10/11/2010
3662. The Forgotten Tennis Courts Of Ancient Kingdom 10/11/2010
3663. The Forgotten Tennis Courts Of Ancient Kingdoms 10/11/2010
3664. Into My Soft And Anonymous World 10/11/2010
3665. The Very Wish Of My Soul 10/12/2010
3666. Like A Conquistador Atop The Roofs Of Cars 10/12/2010
3667. The Songbirds Who Sing With Our Tongues 10/12/2010
3668. So Many Green Talismans 10/12/2010
3669. The Linear Flights Of Airplanes 10/12/2010
3670. Linear Flights Of Airplanes 10/12/2010
3671. The Great Body Of Excuses For This Love 10/12/2010
3672. Both Our Virgin And Our Mary 10/12/2010
3673. The Birthdays Of Long Ago 10/12/2010
3674. The Usual Flight Paths 10/12/2010
3675. Into Its Little Brown Reservoir 10/12/2010
3676. What She Will Do Tomorrow 10/14/2010
3677. From Their Lovely Game 10/14/2010
3678. Sucreased From Their Lovely Game 10/14/2010
3679. What It Is They Truly Want 10/14/2010
3680. Just To Indian Give 10/14/2010

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! !

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  • 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
    Peter

  • 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
Meadow
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

Appomattox

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! ”

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