Poetry from Michael Robinson

Black Boys Growing Up

For Vincenza


Tying a tail onto a kite,

Watching for the first flowers of spring,

Shaking off the winter cold that had soaked down to the bone,

Kissing a girl for the first time and feeling sane,

Staying away from strangers that carry knives and guns.

Avoiding the war when I turn 18 so that I don’t die in a foreign land,

Living in a world that grasshoppers leap high into the air

And the flowers bloom in my backyard.

Yes, I want to be a black man when I grow up.



It was my foster mother that was my salvation. I held on to her in spirit most of my life. It was her reddish tan skin and her silver gray hair that spoke to my senses ever since I can remember. I always wanted to express my love for her by kissing her on her cheek. Yet, I was always afraid of being rejected by the one lady that meant so much to me. One day, I overcame my fear and kissed her on her cheek, and she accepted it as she had always accepted me.


A Life Lived

after Carol  Frost’s: Autumn Tune

I know of losses, Apples with one bite taken out of them and then thrown into the garden for the worms. Ripening bananas turned to brown, spotted sugar. Love was a picture hanging above my bed. Ideas that were spoiled by clouds moving too fast for the eyes to see. A sore tongue that had not spoken words of peace have only known of vulgar words. Women wearing mini-skirts giving me hope that I would find the right woman. Each step I took was for atonement for lost beliefs and the world was an upside down cake.



One thought on “Poetry from Michael Robinson

  1. Michael, You have expressed so well the yearning for love and acceptance. Your thoughts are from your heart and are spoken so others may learn.

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