Poetry from Michael Robinson


Angels come to mind when I’m alone,
When something seems to have gone wrong in my life,
The words fold like a chair, and I whisper to God.
There’s something in the wind that gives me hope,
Perhaps it’s their wings that open and close,
Giving me comfort as I sleep.

Poet’s Life  

I have to write,
Or I will die
A empty death,
A soulless death.
But when the words,
Come alive on the screen,
Rising from a deep sleep,
I’m rescued from a wasted life.

My Soul Rest

The waves come and go;
The moon’s influence,
Stirs the soul,
While the angels watch,
Warm the troubled spirit,
A spirit captured by
God’s breathe.

Fall Once Again
(For Michael)

Leaves fall to the ground and the clouds move
Forming a perfect shape for a fall evening
I gather the leaves and fall into them,
Once again.
But now I’m grown;
My neighbors wonder what I’m doing,
Like in my childhood,
Life is a wondrous thing to behold,
No thoughts of sickness or death.
I hold onto the hand of God.


She sat in her rocker for years,
Rocking back and forth,
Her long flowing, silver hair,
Moving gently in the evening breeze.
Her eyes had become soft,
But still firm,
The eyes that watched over me
As I raced up and down the sidewalk on my bike,
I was a child.
I sit in my rocking chair and I remember her smile.


After many years of harsh words,
Her voice started to become meaningful
To my senses.
She no longer found a need to raise her voice.
I listened to her as she lay in her hospital bed,
Rubbing her soft tan skin with my frigid fingers.
Her cheeks were warm and soft,
Her eyes bright.
It was the fall of the year and I was old enough,
To understand that life has a special meaning,
Love between a mother and son.

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