When I find the girl of my dreams
She needn't be gallant not supreme.
Neither must she be
Pristine and part of the scene.
She does not have to be
Just like me.

My dream girl might be many things, with many traits ascribed to her,
But I only need her
To be one very special thing.

Mine, for now and forever.

Come blow away the deary leaves of Winter
          scattered everywhere

Wash the dust from all the dead and dying
          green of spring magnifying

Bathe the Earth in Rainbow
          colored hope

A few of my relatives have become screen doors -
trying to hold back a Winter storm

Jack-o-Lanterns and Tennessee breezes
Sweet potato cobbler , Apple cider , frosted
scenery
Sweet memories 'neath the Pumpkin Moon
Whittling sugarcane to the sounds of pure Autumn
The Coyote yodel and the Barn Owl holler* ..

Birds turn white in the morning light
The riddle of sunrise exposed
The unchecked infirmity of age continues on
as we slowly succumb to the cold , as we
quietly move along
Fall bush appears set afire
Silver Maples quiver in desire
Earths Lamp calls on tea stained wild grass
doused in dawn wine , in living brine

My words and my poems
Are no more than explanations
And embellishments
My means of expression
For my life is my "art"
It's what I am and what I write
It's why I need to write
To make sense of the things
I've seen and done
And there are times when
I think I've done far too much
Then, in deep contemplation
I realise I could have done more
And that kind of inner debate
And discussion with myself
Are a large part of my life
Which becomes my version
Of something like "art"

                                         By Phil Roberts

Spinal necessity exists
Between ludicrous *****
And the pulsating brain
Lumbering and slobbering
Separate from the mind
Which is tuned to distraction
Feeling every nuance
As a ricochet
For this sensitivity is not delicate
But damning and demanding

Tentative toes step around
Lightly sleeping memories
Which will bawl upon waking
Demanding delivery
Into the light of recognition
But, evading perspective
They become demonic in aspect
Causing crashes
Stamping all over corpses
Bringing them alive
And each of these ghastly debutantes
mutters softly
"Dream of me"

                                By Phil Roberts