Steven Robinson

Steven Robinson Poems

Is it a dream or reality, do we fade or stay in focus?
We think we are real but who really knows the inside of us.
You have substance; I can feel and hear you speak.
I turn my back. Are you still there? Do you really exist?
...

There once was a parrot name Jack, who thought himeself quite a lad, but one day he met a Goose who decided he was too loose.

Jack tried to chat up the Goose, but the Goose had other games in mind and she stuck a carrot up jack's (well you get the picture) .
...

I was eating a fairy cake the other morn, when I thought I wonder if it's true that for every baby born, a fairy god mother is sworn.

Well now I have grown up, can I still speak to the fairies or am I just away with?
...

I'm looking at me, you're looking at him, she’s looking at you, I am looking at them, they are looking at us, and we are talking about the whole bunch of them.

She's looking at me, you're looking at her, he's looking at you, I am judging them, they are judging us, we are not like them, and they are not like us.
...

A snow flake is so complex, yet soft enough to enhance romance.
No flake is like another, neither is a friend or a lover.
...

Autumn's twilight, orange hew upon the ground, the leaves,
shades of brown and golden yellows make for precious trees.

The wind scuttles the patch work of leaves upon the ground,
...

The roads are clear, but you are not near, the sun beams dance across my windscreen.

The air is cold, my nose is red the traffic is monotonous I pass the time, thoughts running through my head.
...

Oh know what have I done, I spilt the milk and the cats on the run.

An insect lands on my breakfast, I fight it with my spoon, and I pretend I am a swashbuckler in melee with captain fly.
...

Its time to rise,
get up in time,
to see the Moon go sleeps,
the clouds blush,
...

Shadows come and shadows go, they grow long on the side of the road,
the cold bites at my ankles and grasps at me ears.
Sometimes I wish were were hibernating deep in our caves,
like warm cosy animals huddling like bears.
...

Time is fading and I am waiting,
you are beautIful and I am wanting.
The sun goes down and you are sleeping
I am lying in your arms.
...

Sea Gull, she gal, he gal I watch the birds,
flitting and flying they as they dance, tease and flirt.

Lamppost and trees are their perch, they laugh at the motorists as they search and foray,
...

I ponder who is more free, the Goat, the Pig or the Moo Cows and Gi-Gi's?
I think a Pig is really in trouble as bacon and eggs go down with not much trouble.
The goat is much safer, but due to the washing line caper is facing the barrel double.
The Moo Cow is quite safe as long as the milk is rich, they'll never be a beef sandwich.
...

A tune plays in my mind, I slowly wake, and a habit gets me out of bed,
I stagger, wiping sleep form my eyes, a new day if forming.
My day depends on my feelings and the thoughts in my head,
I look forward to the day I have created from observing my morning.
...

My breath is like a dragon's, I snort and cough and bellow out a mouth of steam, winters fairy tale is alive in my breath as I walk amidst winters cold grasp.

All about I see the domain of the crystal kingdom of icicles and frost, where are the boundaries of this land, nobody knows, the Sun is lost.
...

There once was a Bureaucratic who was always on the automatic,
he would stamp and stamp the paper, he was not much fun.
Along came a maniac and challenged the clerk while he was at it,
and that was how the beating if the Bureaucratic was done.
...

An ambassador of love and friendship you are,
an angel who brings light to all of the day.
I thanks you for being my mum and friend,
I thank you for giving me life and showing me the way.
...

The icy wind howls fiercely and gnaws at my face like a rabid dog,
it's claws scratching my nose and the teeth ever so sharp pierce through my over coat and lashing out at me as if never been feed and wanting to feast on my cold bones. The dogs of winter call my name they want my heart of warmth to turn it inside out.

I stay the course and face their fury, they chase me, taunting me, nipping at my heals, It feels like I will never get to my journeys end, the numbness all but taking over. I cannot feel my fingers have they been chewed on? , it feels so!
...

Her wind swept hair, partly covers her face, not masking her beauty.
Her high check bones glistening as the sun shines upon her face.
Her chest rising, catching breath as she sings across the cliffs.
Come to me my beloved, I call to thee, make haste across the sea.
...

Steven Robinson Biography

I am a senior IT consultant in London, England. I am new to poetry in 2007 and have made a website to archive my works - http: //www.365daysofpoetry.com Regards, Steven Robinson)

The Best Poem Of Steven Robinson

I Think It's Me

Is it a dream or reality, do we fade or stay in focus?
We think we are real but who really knows the inside of us.
You have substance; I can feel and hear you speak.
I turn my back. Are you still there? Do you really exist?

Am I my mind or is my mind a stranger or an usurper of my body?
Who's in control? Me or the entity which is my thoughts.
If it is me then I have the power to control what goes on in here.
Surely there must be light switch, so I can see who's here.

Is it a crime to challenge ones mind, to not accept what is normal?
How do I know it's really me in here or is it just a day dream?
Do I exist or am I just an echo of something that is far beyond my intellect?

I can only speak about what I know, I think it's me.

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