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Joe O'rouke Poem
Boredom shapes the gambler’s curse—
a chafing itch burrows the skin,
and promises of bounties full
draws loss and piteous hunger in.
It wagers not on sense but need,
all wisdom choked at galloping speed-
that trades frail patience in a pulse,
mistaking want for feckless greed.
Tidal leaps the wave, a beast enraged
the shifting boards ,a sweep of losses tilt-
that stilts no longer shudderproof engaged
foundations fall and nothing left but guilt.
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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Joe O'rouke Poem
Would I besmirch the facile and the wicked,
perch-like I browse as lethargy enslaves.
Many the flock that follows flag and anthem
were I so brave to counter flotsam knaves.
Current so strong that most are swept before it,
noble and brave the outcast ne're do well.
Steadfast is he,is he who wags a finger,
nose pinching hard that harbinger from hell.
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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Joe O'rouke Poem
Although I go
and by departure
leave so much behind-
You are never alone.
While love,
that binding quality to God-
grows stronger
in your heart.
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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Joe O'rouke Poem
Into the flames
I pitched the final log,
that I had cut with special care.
Not meant for the fire though,
but to carve names upon.
The names of lovers.
Into the flames
I pitched a final dream -
hallucinating as a child
through a romantic eye.
Seeing shadows in the vapours,
that might have been lovers.
One last look
I remind myself
before the draught takes all.
And a memory hangs there
for a moment.
Disappearing without a word -
the silence of a lover's farewell.
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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Joe O'rouke Poem
Lump metal fits the smithy's hand,
and held in heat a time it glows.
From plainest load to ornament,
upheld no more - the hammer blows!
Each strike,each threat to change it yields,
a different texture,structure,shape.
It bends and folds obedient-like,
from molten heap to perfect state.
And so transformed,it suffers much.
Its twisted form condemned in fire.
A scattering of embers new -
corrupted now to suit desire,
Eternally the anvil sings
with brandished iron upon a stone,
Its back thick-stained with pounded scrap,
the process done,the seed is sown!
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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Joe O'rouke Poem
In saying things,
I say them thought on permanence
Most things I care too much
to write lame words about.
And glad of hopes and promises I found appealing
decide some words have reckoned more
commitment now
- and seen a sacred promise tip the scale.
In doubt,
I venture not with words but with real feeling.
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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Joe O'rouke Poem
It stood alone potbound on a ledge -
wild and unapologetic.
This proud,presumptuous flower
would wince
at the very prospect of a pollen grain molest,
or of an admiring glance -
taking it whole root to tip.
In the raw of a nature manifest.
And so it remains
anti-social,uncaring,arrogant.
Forgetting how to share itself.
Certainly no flighty sort
dare pollinate this flower
or scoop its nectar gone sour.
For its active role in creation -
better dead!
Without tribute,too much alone -
it withers gradual in a heap.
Its only spouse - the soil
in bountiful riches once more,
absorbs the last dissolving leaf.
Inaction - no falsifying now!
Forgotten without trace,without love.
Copyright © Joe O'Rouke | Year Posted 2026
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