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Best Poems Written by Rob Carter

Below are the all-time best Rob Carter poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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She Possesses Me

She possesses me like a fire possesses the devil
She possesses me like a Harley possesses its metal
She lures me like a child is lured to candy
She lures me like Indians lured by Gandhi


I'm usually strong but with her I go weak
Under her spell my mind starts to leak
Controlled by her charms
Willingly with no qualms
I follow her like a cult obsessed freak


She possesses me like an owner possesses a dog
She possesses me like a termite possesses a log
She lures me like a moth is lured to light
She lures me like a bat is lured by night


I'm usually strong but with her I go weak
Under her spell my mind starts to leak
Controlled by her charms
Willingly with no qualms
I follow her like a cult obsessed freak

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Sexy Redhead

Daphne, I love you
in your purple dress
You're my favourite of the gang
to that I must confess
Your blonde friend just makes traps
and the brainy one is nerdy
The canine and the skinny one
eat huge burgers quite insanely
Your role is kind of quirky
but you're prettier than the others
I don't know who to thank for that
perhaps the animators

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Noises In the Night

One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care

Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland   
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand

Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground           

Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats   
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap

Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared

Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend 
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"

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Slave To the Job

Vampires suck, they drain my life
it feels like that in this god damn place
A pound of flesh I'm sure they'll take
but even then they won't be full
not satisfied until
I'm worn and I'm weary
they chip chip chip away
then I'm nothing but a shell
I wish I could enjoy this time
on the short path to the inevitable
A pension not too far off for some years of frailty
but what's the point shall I give up now
to stop the pain of being a zombie
I'll carry on because I'm programmed to
but the vultures, the leeches and parasites continue
to bleed me for my life

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Mum's Dinner

The boy rides on the pavement 
on his mountain bike
across cracked slabs 
and tarmac patches
bumps and holes 
make him hold tight 
whilst cycling home 
for his dinner 
he pedals faster 
dreaming of pizza
or maybe its chips 
or possibly both
he's nearly back 
in time for his feast 
ice cream for afters 
or chocolate cake he thinks
his appetite builds
finally he's home 
The front door opens
the smell wafts out
Its mum's shepherds pie again
The boy gets back on his bike

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Cake Thief

I wish I could bake
I like to eat cake
But my culinary skills are crap
I go to a wake
Make some handshakes
Then leave with a sponge in my bag

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Evil Revenge

Seal pup eyed,
forgiveness she cried.
Mistakes were made
but deceit and lies
remain to blame
for where she now lays.

Bludgeoned to death
by a word made club.
Born of revenge
for sins to my heart,
punishment fits
her backstabbing ways.

She took the kicks
but wasn't aware
the blows came from me.
Slanderous jibes
to colleagues and friends
tore down her life.

The breakdown befits
her crime to mock.

She sought my shoulder.
Comfort I gave;
"Pills are the answer,
they numb the pain.
Swallow the bottle,
vodka will help"

Following my call
tragic news came.
Oh no what a shame,
I won that game.

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Old Fart

Walking slowly dazed and bemused
Thinking about what I was just told
"It'll be an opportunity" she said
Dressing it up as a gold plated crap
"The change will be good" she said
Straight faced through gritted teeth
A move to a different department I pondered
Filling me with angst and dread
I thought I'd escaped that awful old fart
Now I'm back working for him AGAIN

Details | Rob Carter Poem

In the City

Market stall sellers, spewing out cheap tat, for bargain hunting peabrains parting with their cash; items disintegrating from one single use.

City traders impress with tall tales of the day, lapping up each others crap enjoying it's scent and taste; not caring for the common man whose lives they have wrecked.

Office workers looking grey, another mundane day. Sitting at their desks, day-dreaming of a different life while listening to bosses drivel on about deadlines.

Shop workers getting by, mastering people skills, satisfying customers; some are born to please but for others it's just painful.

Buskers playing tunes, some are good, some are not. They enjoy what they do, even to an audience unattentive to the soundtrack of their day.

Beggars in doorways trying to prise money from our wallets but who are the genuine needy? Alcoholics, drug addicts or rich Romanian gangs who treat it as a living.

Cyclists whizz past, jumping the red lights. An obstacle for pedestrians and motorists alike; two wheeled accidents waiting to happen.

Motorists zoom past at speed with arrogance and aggression; the survivors way to driving through city streets. A combination with potential for fatal consequences.

Some walk through the streets, head down, oblivious to all around, focusing on getting to their destination. Others soak it all in; buskers, coffee shops, the bustle of life.

If you're in the city, enjoy the city, even with the smog. Life's too short to be annoyed with the things that irritate us. Embrace what's on offer but accept you'll be ripped off!

Details | Rob Carter Poem

Justice Is Colour Blind

A blot they want to wash, detergents do not work
Ineffectual, institutional and cover ups a stir
Excuses abound, squirming hierarchy found 
"Its just a darkie, why so narky"
The corridors would sound
It still goes on, gone several years 
Distrustful patronising leaders
A scurge we hope that does not surge 
To Nazi ways and olden days
Where races they would purge