(c) E.P. Robles 2012
LITTLE voice speak to me
refrain not from truth
gently whisper what’s to be
I have no other council
save the trees that sway-speak
or mocking birds who sing
My mouth shut and heart open
and do walk in my forest light
Here upon this grand rock
I patiently wait for your wisdom
so speak to me as I will listen
:: 02-06-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2012
WHERE is that grand thing
so elusive the unicorn doubts
and rainbow would walk in arch
and bee turn blood to honey
if it come to visit one day
Love eludes me my gentle one
delay your departure my heart
Faith is my rock and I hold it
it’s weight too heavy to move
:: 02-06-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2012
WHAT do I miss of the older time
before the buzz and dizzy busy?
A quaint moment throughout the day
one of clarity and not dismay
When a walk meant a conversation
between my feet and cobblestone
And a tip of my hat to passerby
was just a kind and noble gesture
What do I miss of the older time…
a sense of sanity and kind humanity
:: 02-06-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2013
LISTEN to the radio on the AM dial
what you hear isn’t prefab noise
but the crackle of creative past
You say the past is fogey old
but the juice was sweet and new
and gave us the best of music
Good-chu-ku-ku-ku
didn’t you know
Dickinsonian cool
I sit on a Monet stroke
swimming in the Lillie’s
a bridge in the willows
What we wish catching
a filament on a egg shell
and you’re crying
Boo-hoo-a-hoo!
We all want to sleep
but the pea is a giant
and the princess is dancing
I’m crying
so sore thigh
bruised from love
:: 02-04-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles – 2013
SLEEPING I dreamed I had a wardrobe
and there were every kind of costume,
each one for the fantasy of life.
But the police cuffed my hands
saying, “Don’t you know kind sir,
we control the fate of humanity.”
The dream police took me away,
saying there’s no court for my offense
and they threw me back into the cell
where waking people sit and wait,
hoping of a life where they can dream too.
:: 02-04-2014 ::
WHAT pull that magical force
that keeps our feet upon the ground
I surmise the same…
that which makes us fall in love
:: 02-0-2014 :
(c) E.P. Robles 2011
And when did you forget
living is for those
that trust feelings
and shed a tear or two
the fields are dry
and the crows cry
scare be that heart
a husk bleached bone
one never owned
it is the end of winter
and I fear your Spring
more than late in coming
:: 02-05-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2011
I CRY —
not for the dead
for they have lived
Not for the living
for they will die
— having lived
I cry for nature
for it must contend
with those that ruin
and plunder its vast
beauty
:: 02-05-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2013
SISTER who did this to you?
What I am is less than zero
Sister give me his name
I am just a ghost in flesh
Sister stay focused with me
What’s that saying about life?
Life, and Death, and Giants [Dickinson]
I pray for you and me
and what does that say about us all?
I don’t care about everyone else
I just want to be me
I want to tear apart his face
and take back the jewel of my heart
Sometimes I want to rip out his throat
Just to make him as vulnerable as me
Do you hear what I am saying daddy?
What does that say about me…
:: 02-04-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2013
Crazy is not such a bad thing
it grabs people’s attention
and brings them back to reality
:: 02-04-2014 ::
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
 | Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
| EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.