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Best Poems Written by Robert J Moore

Below are the all-time best Robert J Moore poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Empty Chair At Christmas

The Empty Chair at Christmas
by Robert J (Bob) Moore

As Christmas rolls around again, we should take time to remember
to pause, and think of people, who were with us last December
Family, friends, and neighbours, who have left us since that day
an empty space within our heart, which will never go away

A place set at the table, for those who are not there
and as the family gathers, we say a silent prayer
remembering all the fun we had, when you were here with us
and knowing we must carry on, as you wonder at the fuss

Each year the list grows longer, of those whom we will miss
the hand we cannot hold, and the cheek we cannot kiss
but you are here, the memories flow, you would not want the sadness, so
we think of you, and softly say, we will meet again one day

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The First Fleet

The First Fleet
by Robert (Bob) Moore

The 26th of January, is called Australia Day
that was when some 10 pound poms, decided they would stay
they had been, for about a week, at a place called Botany Bay
not much there, just sand and rock, and so they sailed away

Up the coast a little bit, they found another bay
we’ll call this place Port Jackson, and this is where we’ll stay
they saw some Aboriginals, a strange look on their face
They’re Manly looking people, that’s what we’ll call this place

They landed on the southern shore, and brought the others round
we’ll start to build a village here and call it Sydney Town
the convicts and the freemen, will work together here
and send word back to Old England, to send settlers, food and gear

They found there were no buildings, no roads to get around
there was no form of transport, strange animals abound
A paradise for botanists, with many strange plants too
and birds of many colours, through the clear skies flew

They knew that they would have to work, to make the new town grow
but the soil was not too good, and the settlers did not know
how to farm to grow the food, the settlement would need
in the hot and dry unfertile land, unsuitable to seed

The natives they were wary, of the strangers on their land
and the settlers called them Indians, and they did not understand
they yelled, and threw a spear or two, to make them go away
but they were soon to realize, these people were here to stay

they could not live on local plants, and seeds they could collect
not very good at fishing, and at hunting were inept,
ate rats and dogs and kangaroo, so that they would  survive
supplies that they had brought with them, and hoped they’d stay alive.

They were short of shelter, and building tools were few
and local trees were huge, and hard for cutting through
soon the tools were blunt or broken, and the building slowed
with no extra clothing, they wore patched and threadbare clothes

The Syrius was sent away in October ‘88,
To Cape Town for provisions, so they would have to wait
and reduce the farm and building time, cut back on rations too
until May in ’89, when her sails hove into view.

Convicts, free men, and marines, on the HMS Supply
had sailed for Norfolk Island, a new settlement to try
they found the land more fertile, timber easier to cut down
but could not load it on the ships, to send back to Sydney Town.

But from this small beginning, no one there could know
that their sacrifice and fortitude, would make a city grow
and people from around the world, would come here to be free
and Sydney would become a town, of gracious majesty

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The Things Our Parents Said

The Things Our Parents Said
By Robert (Bob) Moore

The things that we remember, from days of long ago
we believed, it was all true, our parents told us so
we now know they were kidding us, a trick on me and you
to make us do just what it was, they wanted us to do

If I was pulling funny faces, from something that was said
my mam would tell me “stop it”, and then she’d shake her head
you’ll be sorry, she would say , “for if the wind should change”
that’s the look you’ll have forever, everyone will think you’re strange

we were told, “to catch the worm, we had to get up early”
you had to “eat all of your crusts, if you wanted your hair curly,”
if you “asked a stupid question, you would get a stupid answer.”
and if you dared to answer back, that would be disaster

it did not matter what went wrong, “a cup of tea would fix it”,
if you were at your Granny’s place, you might even get a biscuit 
“you will live by my rules, while your living at my place”                  
“because I said so, that’s why”, and “wipe that look off your face”

“if all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too”
 “I just hope when you have kids, they’re all as bad as you”
“don’t you dare do what I do, you just do what I say,”
“I’ll even help you pack your bags, if you want to run away”

“be a pigs foot in the morning”, that is what my dad would say 
if I ever hurt myself in some really stupid way
I didn’t want a trotter, growing from my arm or brain
don’t “Kak your Keks”, it’ll soon heal up, and “you’ll be right as rain”

If there’s kids starving in China, does it help to eat my food
“I’ll have to wash your mouth with soap”, if you don’t stop being rude
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you”, “don’t take that tone with me”
“I’ll give you something to cry about” just you wait and see.

We all remember things we heard, and promised not to say
but now and then our parents training, just gets in the way
and we find that we are sounding, just like our parents did
and passing these silly sayings, down the line, and to our kid

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A Tribute To Banjo Pattersons, Road To Old Mans Town

A Tribute to Banjo Pattersons, Road To Old Mans Town
by Robert (Bob) Moore

I read a poem when I was young, by Banjo Patterson
called “The Road To Old Mans Town” about a life near done
I did not understand back then, the meaning was obscure
but as the years go passing by, I understand it more

He spoke of youth, and freedom, of time that had no end
of doing what we wanted, the future ours to spend
time to waste if that’s our want, not count hours as they fly
days that stretch into the distance, don’t yet go rushing by

But as the days grow shorter, and we begin to see
our life is not forever, and what will be will be
and we are sadly looking back, and slowly drifting down
the lonely road we all must tread, to Banjo’s Old Mans Town

He also makes a hope, that we are not alone,
that someone walks beside us, a love whom we have known
that God may not allow us, this dusty road go down
With faltering steps and whitening head, 
on the road to Old Man's Town!

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Our Little Group

Our Little Group
   by Bob (Robert) Moore © 2016
I love to read the poetry, 
the verse, the rhyme, the symmetry
it’s there for all the world to see, 
I love to read the poetry

We started up a group you know, 
so we could let these words just flow
back and forwards, to and fro, 
we started up a group you know

We encourage each other to try and write,
words that rhyme, and some that might
which come to us by day or night, 
we encourage each other to try and write

There’s John and Pam and Williams keen, 
Dennis, Mary, Louisa, Irene
Sheila, Keven and Rik have been,
to tell verse of things they’ve done and seen

With Gareth, John Holmes, William posts for him, 
Pauline, Angie, and Bob are in
the group we started as a bit of fun, 
but we all enjoy what we have done

Many other cheer us on, 
“nice one Bill”, “I enjoyed that John”
“I remember”, and “we used to do that, 
we see it in rhyme, and it brings it all back

If I’ve forgotten anyone who’s posted, 
I really hope, I don’t get roasted
and to all those who, have cheered us on, 
we’re glad you enjoyed our bit of fun.

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They Came Home Today

In Memory of the soldiers brought home
             on 2 June 2016
They Came Home Today
by Robert (Bob) Moore

They are finally coming home today
those, who were left behind
to a different country,
and to a different time

the one they left was patriotic,
Aussie and True Blue
but now, you could be in strife
if the Aussie Flag you flew

They gave their lives, while fighting for, 
a dream we’ve long forgot
and in a far and distant land
a lonely grave their lot

But now these warriors have returned
to their own pleasant land
just hope that we remember
the reason they took their stand

So you and I could live with freedom
and have peace in our lives each day
a country well worth dying for
in a land so far away

And if they could but look around
I wonder what they’d see
is this why they fought and died
and the future they thought would be
                  Lest We Forget
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My Wife the Quilter

by Robert J (Bob) Moore © 2015

My wife she is a quilter, she quilts by day and night
cutting cloth and paper pieces, making sure they’re right
she likes to get me involved, “do these colours look OK”
I ask her, “what does she think”, cause she has the final say

I think they look real good she says, I nod, and I agree
she walks away all happy, more brownie points for me
we’ve been doing this for years, she thinks I have a good mind
never had the nerve to tell her, I am colour blind

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Bath Time In the 40's

by Robert ( Bob) Moore © 2015

When I was a kid with a dirty neck
my mam would scream “wash it”, I’d run like ‘eck
grow spuds in your ears, she’d yell at me
I didn’t care, I couldn’t see

I’d go as long as I could, thinking nothing was wrong
Till somebody said, boy, you sure do pong
then out with the bathtub, hot water and soap
scrub till your raw, with a sponge felt like rope

Then off to bed, all clean and sleek
won’t need another, least not for a week
then it will start, all over again
Having a bath, it was such a pain

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Eighty Today

Eighty Today
by Bob Moore © 7 Feb 2022

I’m 80 today
I don’t know why
the years have got away
and time it did fly

I’ve had a good life
and done lots of things
but where did the years go
they must have had wings

I’ve lived and I’ve loved
and I’ve travelled afar
seen happy and sad times
and can still drive a car

I think I am lucky
to have had a good life
and am still here each day
to spend time
with my family, and my wife.

Bob Moore

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A Free Land

A Free Land
                    by Bob Moore © 2018

The UK’s not the same these days, my dad said to me
it just doesn’t seem to be, the way it used to be
I fought in 2 wars overseas, and then, came home to find
this England’s not the England, which I had left behind

It’s now full of strangers, from all over the earth
but they were not born here, and do not know England’s worth
some of them take what they can, and then give nothing back
and I feel it in my bones, we are on the wrong track

That was in the ‘50’s, but my father he could see
A vision of this England, and the way it just may be
A mix of many races, who would not get along
A land of strife, and trouble, and lives just going wrong

And so he packed his wife and kids, on a boat and sailed away
to what he thought was a better life, in a land where they could play
on beaches, in the sunshine, in a land that was still free
of arguments and trouble, caused by diversity

My dad’s been gone a few years now, I’m glad he cannot see
what has happened in this land, which used to be so free
Ruined by “correctness’ and no right to speak your mind
Its all the same around the world, no new free land to find