Poetry from Michael Robinson

Tick; Tick; Tick,

That when the bomb inside of me was set.
At any time it may go off,
And then at that moment,
I would commit my suicide.
It’s been ticking for years,
It started in 1964,
Inside my mind is the bomb from 64.
Will someone defuse it?
Can it be defused?
Time is running out for me.

Tick, Tick, Tick.

*****

 

Star Night Star Bright

Shooting stars shooting past me,
Shooting guns shooting at me,
Shooting stars shooting past shooting guns,
A soul shooting past shooting stars,

There’s hope!

*****

The Beating

She never beat me with the wooden spoon.
The switch was fresh from the tree.
I had to pick my own switch,
While I stood there in my underpants,
Waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting.
I began to cry;
I begin to dance as the switch hit my brown legs.
The next time, I will hide under the porch.

 *****

 

Sorrows

I know of grief in the early morning hours;
As you sleep, I think of those who have died
Without ceremony or fanfare.
They lie by the drain and bleed
Red blood, American blood,
And I watch with young soulful eyes,
And wonder when my turn will come.

 *****

 

Yesterday

My soul was twisted and frozen;
My laughter died in the snow;
My life floated on the icy river;
My heart waited for the light of the moon while in total darkness.
You crossed the street wearing a wedding gown,
A gown that revealed your core.
I smiled yesterday,
And fought back the tears of losing you today.

*****

Out of the Ghetto

I want a home out of the ghetto,
A home where I laugh and cry,
With all its pain and misery,
Out of the ghetto,
With all of its shootings and stabbings.
Home is where I want to be,
Where the birds fly while the peacock crows,
No single parent to raise me,
To watch over and feed me.
Out of the ghetto,
So that I can be sensitive, gentle, and kind.
To climb mountains and watch the sunrise,
Out of the ghetto,
For the first time but not the last time.

*****

Lucky to be Alive

It was luck that kept me sane
In an insane world.
It was luck that I didn’t die of that overdose.
It was luck that kept me
From being shot on a Saturday night.
It was luck that got me off the streets.
It was luck that God found me on a rainy Thursday night.

I would want to give thanks to Doc Jerry for her many years of editing my work. I would also like to express my profound appreciation for all of you that encouraged me to write.

 

2 thoughts on “Poetry from Michael Robinson”

  1. I really enjoyed all of your poems in this set. I especially like “SORROWS” because I can relate to that one.

    1. Thank you for your comment. I only wish that any of poems gives others something to relate too.

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