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Best Poems Written by Robert O'brien

Below are the all-time best Robert O'brien poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Geronimo

They called me white cheese,
I was there,
to put a flower in my hair.
No experience can compare,
for five long years.
           
On Thanksgiving,
I stood there...
And high up on a tree,
hung a reindeer.

Just across the street,
was a wiki-up in my sight.
But what did I know...
about Apache ways?
                                 
The medicine man, he was there,
to pour water on my head.
Lucky I wasn't dead,
trompin' on their sacred land!

I was invited, in my time,
to a dance and to unwind...
No white man would go there,
where they would share.

But they knew all in good time,
about that fire,
way down, deep...
as a treasure, I would keep,
down in my belly!

Boundaries, I would know,
with a fire, lit all a-glow.
And what about the fight?
Geronimo will tell you!

San Carlos was my home,
and I would never be alone.
And never would I be the same...
again.

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2016



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The Orchid

As an orchid in his life,
a reflection from his strife...
He's a flower in his way
and he would say...

I am living as a poem...
choosing freedom on my own,
and the mask of God would 
speak...
Here is a clue!

From a message he would live
an adventure that would give...
special meaning to his life...
as he went on...

This would be an evolution,
not for him a revolution...
and he danced it all inside...
out in the rain.

All he needed was a room
and a time of day to bloom...
Such a place he didn't know
where to begin.

He brought forth within a day..
what became all in his way...
His experience would say...
Life is a poem!

And he found a sacred place...
he would use it for his space...
find a meaning for his life...
but there was strife!

Pain and suffering he'd achieve,
life with horror_he would leave
all he needed to get back...
was 'on the track.'

It had been there all the while
but his life became a trial...
Could he see or would he 
choose...
another path?

For a life he should be living,
was the one when he was 
giving...
He was living out a dream...
that was his own...

and he became a flower...
in the rain.

All the people in his field
opened doors for him to yield,
a refreshment for his bliss...
but he would miss!

So he followed just a thread...
to a path where he was led...
in a journey that for him,
required a death!

A renewal from his past...
something sacred that would 
last...
One condition for another
he would find...

There were trials and 
revelations...
for a while an incubation.
He found more about himself
as he went on...

Such a dragon he would slay...
no longer bound to his own 
way.to
Something  greater he would 
give
in all his bliss...

From a mystery in life,
he found value in his strife...
and he became a flower...
in the rain.

July 27th, 2012
from The Power of Myth by 
Joseph Campbell

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2012

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The Master's Way

It is all designed in time
     the rhythm of your heart,
     like breathing in and breathing out...
     before you even start.

     Who will choose the nobler part
     and hear his calling near?
     For the maker is at hand,
     he reaches for your ear...

     The touch from one who sows your seeds,
     a ressurection from your deeds,
     your calling from the deep...
     at times, when you are fast asleep.

     Oh spread your wings eternally,
     stretch forth your soul today.
     Receive the flow, sustain your glow...
     it is the Master's way!

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2012

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I Am the Teacher

I am the teacher, preacher.
 The pulpit is my hands.
 I move them with a gesture,
 perform just as I can.

 I'm all about the room, in time,
 I do not miss a beat.
 My steady tempo is in line
 with all those dancing feet.

 In time with every measure, now,
 the music let's me hear,
 the beating of each gentle heart,
 attention to each ear.

I play the part,
and I will teach...
with all my
heart!

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2016

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Bon Voyage

Shipwrecks, Ye Sailors, take courage,
  the bounty is beyond the reef.
  Oh fortunate ones, seek destiny,
  the journey is in your belief!

  Turn the wheel gently, not lonely,
  and share with the Captain of souls.
  Bring me the gold and the booty,
  and be at peace with your goals.

  Your sails, are they tossed to the wind,
  but your stern, does it steady the bow?
  Shipwrecks, Ye Sailors, take courage,
  the time of your destiny is now!

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2012



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Be Happy

I.    CONTEMPLATION

Happy? Say... Be Happy!
Be Happy with all you may!
Forget the past, it's done at last,
Be Happy for today!

The sweetest proposition...
Begins with state of mind.
Far better to be Happy...
A choice of being kind!

Thinking of tomorrow?
For it shall come your way...
Forgetting deeds, now sowing
seeds...
with Joy along the way!

Cares may be like raindrops...
falling on the ground.
Raindrops bringing flowers...
Blooming fragrance all around.

Happy? Say... Be Happy!
Time beats on it's way...
The day will pass, it may not 
last,
Be Happy for today!

Happy just to be content,
Fulfillment of a dream...
Seeking out one's pleasures...
No appointments for a scheme!

To be Happy...Say... Be Happy!
There's treasure to be found.
To be secure and to endure...
Life's beauty all around.

Happy for Possession?
Obtain it all you can.
All for me, and you may see...
Another different man!

Be Happy for one's appetite,
Be Happy at the very site...
And just to eat... A life so sweet,
Be Happy for today!

II. CONTRADICTION

Contradiction speaks of all 
the leaks,
The highs and lows, and so it 
goes...
The ups and downs, and all 
arounds...
Happy now... at last?

The time it passes, birds still 
sing...
And all the church bells, they 
do ring...
But after all, Yes, all of this...
Be Happy now, for life is bliss..
Be Happy?

Attraction of the opposites,
He's soft he's hard,
And he's a bard!
And there is lard, and more of 
lard...
Be Happy?

He's so hot, then he is cold,
So I am told!
He's freezing cold... but he is 
bold!
He's Happy...being cold?

Go fast, go slow...
Then stop, now go!
Be Happy...
I am told!

Contradiction speaks of all the 
leaks...
And in time, you're getting old!
Be Happy...still?
Be Happy?

III.    THE CHOICE

Dissonance or harmony...
Which would you choose?
The former or the later....
now, before you lose!

Confutatis, Malidictis! 
It shall come with all the rage,
and disappointment still,
of being on the run!

Happy, as a choice could be...
An attitude, perhaps!
The attitude of gratitude,
The Joy...of being glad!

Being glad for all you had..
All better now than being sad!
Be Happy... You say?
And what about "The Self?"

To lose oneself in other things..
To be myself is not myself!
When I am all about...
Wrapped up in things beside 
myself....

That's it!!
So I'll be on my way!

April 22, 2014
Robert E. O'Brien

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2014

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Young Stalin

A time of revolution...
of a poet was at hand.
Of turbulence and triumph,
independent in a land.

On Golovinsky Prospect
to the main street of Tiflis.
Exploits of Djugashvili...
Tilipuchui Tavern was a fleese.

European fashions, Pushkin gardens,
grand hotels.
Often singing melodies, 
he claimed poetry for his swells.

A wandering existence of a 
Bolshevik to be.
The perfect crime was hidden... 
as a mask, a robbery!

A poet was becoming... 
a romantic in his life.
With a faith devoted to a struggle...
storm and strife!

Yet he never wavered, 
an existence he believed,
that he alone was destined... 
trial and suffering he'd achieve.

Liberation-freedom, 
and the forces of a chain.
Death and combat were essential
for a lasting thing to gain.

The only lasting thing, 
torn with conflict on the brink,
that would mark a struggle... 
for a cause within a link.

There was constant trouble 
and a lasting reprimand.
Return to seminary would not happen, 
there again.

Yet he chose philosophy,
he created from the start.
A prisoner and in exile, 
revolution was his art!

A new world he would order 
from Baku to Petrograd.
Upon the Russian stage he'd step, 
perhaps he had gone mad!

But he would bear a will... 
that remained for all his days...
forever with a shadow, 
contradiction in a haze.

Chernyshevsky, Dostoevsky, 
and the devils were his due...
A russian revolution 
was the making of a Coup!

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2012

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Liebestraum

Have you heard the cello play?
It's Liebestraum, by Liszt, his way.
While in this tender melody...
it sets me free from time.

Fond memories of childhood past,
may be the ones that may not last.
But memories are precious, still,
the melody plays on...

Of sadness, ore the meaning,
it rings clearer to my mind.
Those waisted days of treasure...
all the gifts this life would measure.

To the music...
as it speaks unto my heart.
And playing every part...
Franz knew it all the while!

Just a picture of them sighing,
for the loved ones that are dying,
and it's Liebestraum 
that brings it to my ear...
for me to hear.



From the song, "Liebestraum"
by Franz Liszt

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2016

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Soldier Boy

CARRY ON...
MY SOLDIER BOY!
BENEATH THE SETTING SUN...
YOUR TIME HAS, SURELY, COME!

THROUGH THE WRECKAGE
OF THE PAST...YOUR TRIALS...
THEY WILL NOT LAST,
FOREVER!

YET, THEY DOTH APPEAR...
THROUGH STORM AND STRIFE
YOU CARRY ON...
UPON YOUR LIFE, SO DEAR !

YOU HOLD YOUR BANNER HIGH...
BENEATH THE SKY,
AND IN THE BATTLE CRY,
MARCH STRAIGHT AHEAD...

YOU MAKE YOUR BED
WHERE SHADOWS FALL...
FOR ONE AND ALL TO SEE,
YOU WILL BE FREE...
TO CARRY ON...

NOW IN THE SETTING SUN,
YOUR DREAMS, AGAIN,
WILL COME ...
JUST WHERE YOU LAY TO REST...
YOU'LL BE THE BEST!

AND CARRY ON...
MY SOLDIER BOY !


from My Mother...
October 11, 2016

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2016

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The Curse

Prolonged agony...
it hung on him like a dead weight.
You'd think Marley had come back for a visit...
was there no escape?

It went after him like a ravenous wolf,
tore him up from the inside,
till his ashes were spread out...
over Lake Louisa.

It took her to the grave,
like hell hath no fury!
That place of nothing but loneliness...
and devastation.

Why would he come back to face the wolf?
Would it get him, as well,
tore him upside-down...
just like his mother?

Who can tell the tale
of the tell-tale heart?
Tear up the planks,
Edgar knows!

And why would he come back,
to that place, 
that curse...
at Vacation Village?

Would he follow her
to the grave?
The wolves
will tell you!

Copyright © Robert Obrien | Year Posted 2016

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things