Poetry of the Web

Welcome to the poetry of David B. Robinson. Writing has the ability to inspire men to great deeds and may speak of what exists or what may be. Often it may communicate, in and of itself, so for right now we shall let it do that in an original poem or two. The first poem is written in free verse. The last poem is not a haiku poem, but merely has the same length.



Opal Curtains

The windows are open wide
To the stars in the evening sky
As a passing cloud bustles
Into the heavens and passes by.
The opal curtains in the front porch
Shimmer in the moonlight
When the evening east wind
Wafts them to and fro.
The engineer of a passing train
Sounds a lonesome whistle,
Slowing for town,
And the darkness is silent.

Over the Lonesome Night

For that were I a swallow,
A-flying way up high
Over mountains and over valleys,
Not to indemnify.

I'd fly into a cavern,
And in it I would sit
And stay the long night over
Till woods did light admit.

I then would find my consort,--
I'd search the whole day long,--
To vie for such as liking
That would to me belong.



Insincere Clouds

The slinky, twining shades of evening
Fall with a breath on frozen snowplow,
And happy clouds in fleets of something
For instant path traverse somehow.

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