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Best Poems Written by Tom Forke

Below are the all-time best Tom Forke poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Tom Forke Poem

On a Field Trip Freshman Year

on a field trip freshman year
the boy
in special classes walked 
up the muddy trail.
he
walked on the side,
balancing on the dry stones
aligning the path.
he followed some
acquaintances.
an old coat and
sweatpants with worn elastic
warmed his bones in the gray
mists. bus pass in his pocket
and a few coins, he thought
about lunch - not the rocks he
would have to climb.
his shaven head chilled with drips
from the pines above, the path 
narrowed and inclined 
between two boulders. 
he struggled up the path,
getting dirt on his 
snow white shoes.

Details | Tom Forke Poem

The Sower

Arnold gazed eastward,
squinting. 
His callused hands hung
by thumbs hooked to
his belt. He had beaten
the rooster by at least
an hour, and his hands
lit a pipe in
celebration. 
A cool breeze 
passed through, teasing
the plowed field,
the chimes,
and his arms.
The barn stood sturdy, 
ready for the season.
Seasoned tools hung on the 
new walls. The screen door 
behind him swung and
she stood next to 
him on the porch, his 
hand stroked her back.
She looked at him, he
peered eastward, a subtle
smile concealing a laugh,
“It’s going to be a good year.”

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Hitting Softballs By the Field House

“yeah man, call out
‘aye laddie’ to claim the
ball.” we laughed, and he
hit a grounder, followed by a
pop fly, followed by another
grounder, all thrown back to
the proximity of the pitcher. 
“what’s it gonna be like tomorrow?”
I asked. “In the 70s...I haven't hit
since last spring.” Some clouds
loomed overhead and my hairs stood
on end. He hit a short one and paused,
“What are your dinner plans? I 
got a few pizzas in the freezer.” 
“Wow, that’ll be great weather for the
frisbee tournament then.” The ball
tuckered out of my glove. Dammnit. 
He cranked out another one, and the guy
out left managed to haul it in,
“Aye laddie!” The sun peaked out
a bit, and I saw where the clouds 
would end for a time. “Aye laddie!”
That one, I caught. 
Reds and oranges over the trees, and
none of us believed in sun sets.

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Biting Nails

I bite my nails to keep
order, to keep them in line
I chew my fingers-
feast on the small
shreds of flesh to keep
them groomed-we don’t want
any outliers or any heads
poking out of the crowd-
it doesn’t look good.
That’s how they should be-
bloody disfigured and
inconsistent nails with
the bacteria from the dirt
and germs
going into my mouth.
I create 
scabs 
and 
hangnails 
and 
shreds.

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Winter Song

I’ve felt the seasons each with passing time
each with weather tuned to its own phase
winter brings a cold I may not survive
if it weren’t for warmth that comes in its own ways

some say what’s in the sky depends on what’s in your mind
but how can you light a fire when the rain won’t dry?
to me seems like a big thing to deny
in the long run, just a different way to lie

bring your ice, bring your frost
bring your chills, don’t count the cost

bring your winds, make things die
have no mercy, cloud the sky

spring is bright and warm on certain days
summer is the single most bold
autumn is bright and warm on certain days
they all bring their days of dark, dark cold

winter’s frost forms in ways unclear
many of these chills i cannot relieve
the other seasons hint its coming’s near 
kinda like winter never leaves

bring your ice, bring your frost
bring your chills, don’t count the cost

bring your winds, make things die
have no mercy, cloud my sky

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Treasure

Dad and I dug
for treasure
in the backyard.
My eyes lit up at
the can opener,
it glimmered silver in the earth-
except for the rusty parts.

He made another hole
by the white tree
and I polished off
the rock, that was
so smooth-
except where it was rough.

In the rubble at the bottom,
I found a penny caked in dirt,
so old,
it must have been worth
a fortune.

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Dust

“What a strange fate”
as they gaze on our globe-
generations in a blink
and we knock at their gate.

“Made of things-oxygen
nitrogen, phosphorus
carbon, calcium,
and hydrogen.

They exist with things,
exist as things, experience
things. What a strange fate-
to react to what time brings.

Dust birthed things;
things birth lust;
lust births birth,
and return to dust.”

They look on our sphere;
they wonder like us,
but unlike God,
they shed no tear.

“Like pawns in a game, 
don’t know how the came,
just where they go,
sharing the same name.”

Fluttering wings,
where do they go?
They know of us
they are not things.

Lies produce trust,
battling lust,
falling short of the just,
and return to the dust.

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Sir Rutherford

Oh sir Rutherford
Whose crimson light once shone 
Nature’s summoned darkness
Ne’er could clasp thy fiery tone
A guardian he stood
A savior felled by kiss
Streaking phoenix screaming
Sent the fell to the abyss
What went amiss my knight?
What haunts the phoenix flight?
Our loyal hope diminishes
In unison with your light
One remaining image
Perching on the mound
A scabbard still erect
Draped in your colors –so profound
What foe has cut you down oh Rutherford?
What force is your demise?
Where is the smoldering crimson
That once alit the skies?
Nay was it an enemy 
That ceased the burning glow
For no foe of Rutherford
Could return his fierce some blow
The phoenix would never strike
Those whom he loved
Would these fickle rouges 
Cage this flaming dove?
Alas it’s so oh Rutherford
It was I that cut you down
I and the other worms
That once upheld your crown
My bird did we covet
were we threatened by your flame?
That us the weak 
would desecrate your name
May we all be cursed oh phoenix
Thrown into swamp and pit
In this deserved misery
Eternally emit:

Oh sir Rutherford
Whose crimson light now shows
Nature’s summoned darkness
Ne’er could clasp thy fiery tone

Details | Tom Forke Poem

In the City

i saw him sit in darkness
but he refrained 
from the final slip,
for the city was so
bright in the window and 
light touched the sill like angel
fingers on his cheek, and he
desired the dainty dexterity
to touch him last. The cars,
little lights, living their lives,
lasting as long as the length
of their mechanisms permits.
I felt him feeling the fingers
of millions of lights, 
blinking and flashing until
their fire fades finally.
 
In the reflection on
the window, he saw 
a light;
he smiled,
Blinking, flashing,
and beaming 
in the city.

Details | Tom Forke Poem

Pieces

“remember checkers?”
she looked out the
car window, he
nodded, and
for a moment saw
the great roots by
the gymnasium that must
have been there for centuries.
There was a particular root
the kids would use as a chair
that must have been as big
as the two when they held
each other. 

He remembered checkers,
wondering what that 
had to to with 
Massachusetts. He
saw the root again, 
and the board balanced on it
carefully. They used 
the red squares and, 
she always knocked the board
over before anyone could win.

knowing that she remember the 
root, he asked if they did any
additions to the gym. knowing
what he meant, she lied, 
shaking her head
no. 

the dark horizon was disrupted
by a red car. he saw the root
as she went inside from recess, and
he stayed behind 
to pick up the pieces.