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Best Joe Maverick Poems

Below are the all-time best Joe Maverick poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I am willing,, a miracle

To win is the trying..!' gainst despairs blank stare, a wounded earth still 
rolls on..! Midst the throes of territorial vying..

Shows our shattered crystal the counsel of despair
As the pales; of circumvention, invade earth's free sod and air, 

Oh.! such power we covet To maintain..! what is "right?" what is yours.. 
can be theirs" or is it ours..? should we fight..?

Yes it tears through our city's this division reprised, 
To the call of soulless ambition, destruction quickens in stride,

And! yet not new its existence..) "for know ye satan he is a liar"
Though it was hid deep in shadow; was to emerge its sly desire.

 Yet how ask us "innocent's" & why should this be?
Whilst we gaze upon its sickness and water the seeds..!

So we stand without reason, or we lay down condemned, 
Yet open hearts to salvation; on Jesus depend, 

Call his name now in season) let the fetters free fall, 
The Miracle is "willing" none should perish is all..!


Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2011

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Ode to Sake from Noritake

invert & impassive,

moon reflective like.. shadow"

taste blossom; copper chablis..

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2011

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The full fallow moon was hung low in July
 As white stars & fireflies lit the night sky
A sight to behold was the feline bold
Drawing sighs from the violin, his arms did enfold
He played on the breeze to the harvest to come
As An orchestra of crickets rasped to each thrum...'
He raised now the tempo and thought
 Of a dish & a spoon that had shone
In delighted off they did run!
And so he made ‘paws' quaffing wine from a tun 
Then throwing the fiddle up tight to his chin
He forgot about thinking in pursuit of more din!
The cow swished her tail to the music he made
As the dog danced the polka, through a small garden maze! 
He played till the pearly dawn light did show
Then the crickets fell silent; and the bird calls did grow!
He slept where he fell, to bother no more...
As a ship makes its way to the safest of shores..’
As he turns in his slumber, as she rolls o'er the waves
He would hold no regrets ‘till the ending of days.'

©Joe Maverick 12-10-13

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2013

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On loving the literary soup,,

When my spirit was fogged in gloom
After i impacted concrete; like a lead balloon

It lifted my strength as i started to write
Of a beautiful girls toy; on its maiden flight

Intended for a contest by souper trouper P D
But i wrote it wrong in "form" if you look you'll see...)

Yet on its immersion in "the soup" i felt satisfied
It seemed to numb the pain; i had been feeling inside

Its not winning or losing while on "the soup" 
Though neither string bean; or minestrone (i feel) in "the loop"

There are many places to spend a while,
But the "draw" for me is "the soups" unique flavor & style

It has content..) that's peaceful, stimulating," its fine"
Yet words versus" its essence is exercising my mind,

Let its writers and their themes be the answer to why
I extol "the soups" virtue; that's my definitely my very best try..!

Copyright Joe Maverick 2012
in support of Carol Browns what you love about "the soup"
amended 19 02 2012.  




Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2012

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A voice crying out in the wilderness

Hard edged (unreality) you face away from my immediacy (candour eschewing) inimically you parody, offering as nice the complexity of ''vice''exploiting even nature 

(as voyeur and narrator) your intention anethema to the nations, 
as you   coerce ''your creation'' encouraging over consumption, 

with a hard nosed gumption, yet my God who is greater 
is no longer willing to be a waiter!sickle in hand he is walking his land, 

with the sun as his shadow is this (One)
to be Hallowed..!

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2011

Details | Joe Maverick Poem |


All round the ring of Kerry’s highways, people point and cry
It’s 4 o’clock on the very dot and Mick’s rig is passing by,
It has glistening sheens of yellow, with cinnabar spots in red
Rich lozenges of orange complete the livery, as this butterfly forges ahead!
She’s kissing those dew damp breezes, on a morn like an Irish dream
As the sun’s rays like golden spokes 
Steal silently; through oaks of emerald green.
 lighting up a meadow’s buttercups, that border a hillside stream.
She hauls her load of butter, fresh from the herds of ‘Kerry’s spreads’
To sweeten the taste of a million slices, of European bread!
She’s making good time this morning in passing the various towns,
By 9 am she makes Letterkenny, to lay her cargo down.
Mick checks his trusty wristwatch
He needs to be back in Clonakilty; to make a special call
For by, begosh and begorrah ‘tis Father’s Day ‘n all. and
His sweet Molly will be waiting there, by an ancient rock built wall!
So he spins the painted lady round, to take the south west route,
Tooting  to folks he recognises; as along that road he shoots.

At 1 o’clock he’s made it back, and parks the painted lady up
He wanders up the dusty track; just a Dad in working gear
Straightening  an aching back, now his destination’s near
He searches the milling kids all around, many colours their faces show
And then he picks out his Molly. as those raven curls she throws!
She runs to greet him at his call, raising her face to be kissed
And she had chosen a painted lady, sure.. He felt how he had been missed!
He swings Molly up on high and they head back to the farm
She showers him with sweet butterfly kisses
As rabbles of the creatures unravel, in clouds and colours of charm!

NB the Painted Lady is an Irish species of Butterfly

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2013

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Of bud bossed delicate; in its aroma much will enfold!
The turbulence of youth; also the seasoned and the old.
Tetra pedes, cross pages, sober.. in black, throughout the ages
Oh! to pass to others this understanding; and in bold.

Manifold are images, ‘thrusting now fresh into flower,
To awareness, of precious cargo; as in life’s laden bower...’
Penta metron sketch outlines, though imperfectly employed;
I reach to the stars today; as yet passes my hour!...

Translucence shows within the fading of life’s colour
As this continuing expressive awaits its turn, of another!..
My thoughts fill like pages, to blossoms in bloom
A soft falling, as petals; to your earth, my sister & brother...

To re-count of life’s possibility's... in the Rubaiyat form;
Melding its grandeur; to the bland magnitude of today’s norm!
Opening in its intricacy, the doorway to ecstasy 
Playing many a cadence, relayed from its echoes borne.

Ever may its blossoms & completeness be flowering, 
Entwining with the lines of the sages, to forever cling!
Refreshing the heart; perhaps a world? now tired and worn.
To a climax of prosody, does this weave of true praises sing.

© Joe

I have added notes in the ‘To know more about this poem area’.

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2013

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Red Cloud

Melding thoughts.. A guiding force;
Showed strength through sharing Ways, 
drew spirit, from the great One, following the wind,
finding a hollow,  gliding the currents stringing a bow,
Being close at hand for us, What more was there to know?
amid familiar scents of pines so fresh, taking for our needs enough, 
To sustain the tribes, to be all; all we Ever should Want to know, 
in this knowing to be as one!

© Joe Maverick 23-11-2013

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2013

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A Peace Of My Heart

Believe not in lies in this, a time of deceiving, for; 
Far too soon, would run fair chance, with sidence; its errant way.." 
I've heard ears of clay. will oft 'reck not of the hour; 
Though sun-gold were to fall, in its bursts and showers; 
As would molten fables.. 'Cross ripening fields of wheat, 
And so must I now on alone to dance?? 
Ee'n whithin these daze, of fruitful summer sweet?? 
Sparing not even the seconds glance.." 
Oh." but bring to me your eagerness fleet,
For tis the very richness in its flower.
“Come.! Pare with me scripts each day; and hour."
With your honesty a sustenance; step into every inference.." 
That waiting beauty be not kept at bay..! 
copyright Joe Maverick 2012

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2012

Details | Joe Maverick Poem |

On liquid plains

Upon the waters waiting still,, a scudding duck decends.!

Dragonflies hover over blossoms and leeches deep,
Geese shake their heads, as they are passing the fronded willows, in verdant pleats
Hissy hiss is all they say,with their blatant contempt for the lush summers day!
The ganders enjoying their swaggering time on this fecund month of may.
While on meadow banks are waxing longer the source of septembers hay 

Near lily pads 
A gaggle of goslings go
Deep yellow fluffing they bob
Eyes on mom stay (close)

Egrets stream like banners
( Art white) on aqua skies.

Joe Maverick for Constance La France's four beautiful birds contest.
copyright may 2011


Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2011