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Best Poems Written by Peter Dorr

Below are the all-time best Peter Dorr poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Peculiar Sea

The polystyrene waves whip the sea of earth on

a Spring tide as the crows nonchalantly look on  

patiently waiting for the styrene spray to uncover 

the fishes of  the dusty dry earth to feed  their young.

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Open Closed

Open Closed





 Open letter addressed by me to myself as  

               as though I am in any way complicit in my 

               third time failure; entering what is becoming 

               an annual crop failure in the beautiful place 

               where I was ugly born; where the judge year 

               after year looks red rock faced with rage,

               or with tears streaming down their cheeks 

               with incredulity at my wide off the mark poesy.


               

               My crop this year was two haikus short on 
            
               which reasonable people (whoever they are)

               would love to quaff while the other, long lines,

               (just within the limits) as though I, a Camusian 

               existentialist, had counted, discounted again, 

               and again, until the dizziness of decision made

               me yelp, "yeah! it does me proud oh judge".


                

               'Perception is All' as it foxily upsets our stall.

               In our life expressed for truth it is hard to tell 

               even if quarried deep for it is still queried deep. 

               Shallow or short 'Truth is not open to all' but  

               is seen as so precious as to be hermentic, sealed, 

               so only the few, only the right-on literati can judge.



               

               Never mind! This old comforter raises one's eyes

               from the list of winners - one, two, three; 'Highly 

               Commended' too; the sentence embossed by one's

               writing on the envelope, for the arena of the sky 

               backdrops the shushing green yellow tree leaves

               and slowing turning gold beach hedge that the  

               red hot copper has so speedily, successfully infiltrated.



              

               As the Constable clouds stately sail by on their voyage

               eastwards there is always next year, an easier open,

               or my very own closed, competition - even then not winning!

               All this is small beer compared to the rum of worldly strife,

               the champagne of celebrity, the vin ordinaire of the good, 

               the bitter of labour, and our sometimes burgundy blessed days. 



                       

               

               Peter Dorr                                             25th. October 2011

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If Manners Maketh Man - and Woman Too

If manners maketh man - and woman too

then why do no manners men - women fit 

any boot or shoe? If you expect better you 

are "inconsiderite, a bloody stuped fool as 

you oppused to the freedom for us do what 

the hell I or us like - as you and youres have

no recip ur - no rihght, as onely we have writes".


Freedom comes with responsibility: This is why 

many dislike freedom in practice, preferring a 

little dictator of their country or community to 

tell them what to do, or it is neighbour against 

neighbour at home or abroad where either the 

bullying majority or the fanatical minority rule the roust.


It's easy in practice to spout the above but it is not 

always others who are led astray, however much 

we like to think that I or we always deserve the day; 

sometimes I or we are the culprits too, but by reticence, 

consideration, thinking before acting we may deserve the day.

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Bullfinch

beautiful bullfinch 
                                    
                                       flits from lawn to rose bush to

                                       beach hedge this bright morn

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A Child's Puzzle Answered

Because it wanted to go to the library!

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Poem On a Theme By Robert Herrick

Is it a farce to lean on Lent
 
                                 to receive the black ash Cross
                              
                                 on our foreheads, to walk

                                 home in humble pride alive 

                                 to people's puzzlement;

                                 to look forward to Holy Week

                                 not to correct our weak wills?


                                 Is it false to keep a True Lent

                                 to tell others it is our intent  

                                an unholy act to practice?



                                Is it to quit the dish of our 
                             
                                failings , to fill our hearts with 

                                sanctimony , to have pride 

                                in our many dreadful duties?               


                               Is it to conpete for favour on our 

                               Lenten voyage of spiritual quest 

                               to show the comedy of our worth?



                              Is it to mock materialism that God 

                              provides by putting it upon others

                              to show its limitation in our lives?


                              Is it to show false humility for our 

                             road of rights not our responsibility, 

                             to apologise for the flesh of Christ

                             in case it so offends our fellows?



                            It is to keep a True Lent by the boon 

                            of Jesus Christ's Resurrection?

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Hip Hip Hooray

Hip Hip Hooray

              Hip Hip Hooray for today Naseby Day!
             
              On these Northamptonshire fields in the middle of England

              in 1645 (given a calendar change around a century later) 

              the Parliamentarians defeated the Royalists in the most 

              decisive battle of the Great Civil War, to in full time created 

              this royal republic that to tell truth to power Whitehall and 

              Westminster will be brought to book as to tell truth to influence 

              much of the media specially the oligopoly Press with its self-righteous 

              arrogance will be altered for good by the judicial Leveson Enquiry

              untying the Gordian knot tying party to papers as today most rightly, 

              should be sad too the as today is Liberation Day in the Falkland Islands 

              as we and the Argentinians remember the war dead, praying that 

              that these two Christian states and liberal democracies may truly 

              try to keep to the high principles that both claim as their truest cause.


              Hip Hip Hooray for Naseby Day, for Leveson Days, and for  Falklands Day!

Details | Peter Dorr Poem

Vernal Equinox, Spring Begins

Spring begins as a spring, the roads shining wet, the earth desultory floats the water as 

the lawns are pricking green welcoming the Spring. At dawn the birds chatter with delight 

at the worms' awful plight while commuters mutter imprecations to one and all as if 

weather lore will do for us all, until they remember the Easter holiday that still seems so 

far off as the weather seems to be spoiling our lot.  


Snow shovels the warm dry sunny weather we had for over a week far away as it reminds 

us of its power to be bloody awkward of its own accord. 


In Spring we all fancy a smile that is not wry and weather to warm our bodies and souls 

after a grotty winter. Let us Hope!

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Golden Calf

A Golden Calf came through our old town for people to worship whether deft or daft.

If anyone impedes this Olympian flame in disporting procession coming from this flawed 

home (like all ours) of demos kratos - Greece will save itself if it be true to 'people 

power' that now has a spring in its not always athletic step, gamy leg they will be 

game, a terrorist to to types of boot, receiving their (in) just desserts if they spoil (be 

fair) many people's pleasure. It will be an arresting scene for we vin ordinaire to drink 

in the sights  of champagne wasting sporty types, Olympic worthies, 'celebrities', 

politicos like bouncy Boris in his and their special Soviet fast lanes that no war or civil 

hero just 'sporting' ones will ride in this four times over budget shindig that we 

taxpayers of the world, mainly this faire isle will gladly pay for them to play knowing 

that they shaft us every day yet cannot they take our souls from us whether we are 

                   believers or no - each our very selves will truly show.

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Our Different Natures

Why is it that when we decline and we are dying there is no beauty in our bodies

though there may be nobility in our natures and in our souls, yet when trees in 

arboreal arabesque let fly their leaves floating to earth giving all creatures colourful 

hope, but we are at our worst in deathly pale and black croaking at the end the  

hope of eternity in different many ways, as the leaves do bunker compost go, 

                                  or the autumn fires so?