I am
theatre bred
I am
poet born
I will not tread lightly
I will blow my horn
I will make practice
of practice
Till every act is
that of mastery
I will steal history
for so long
that it will linger upon
me. For centuries

There's a shower of rain
Yet the sun still shines
There must be a rainbow
Somewhere

An old man nods in his chair
He came from nowhere
And went nowhere else
Journeying all the way

Now he journeys through time
Down the aching years
Things that he's seen and done
Some good and wondrous
And some of them terrible

An old man nods in his chair
Travelling
Behind closed eyes
All the things he's seen and done
The people he's known
All the things he's said
Within his nodding head

Tears pour down his face
Down the canyons grooved by time
And yet he smiles
Gently and softly
There must be a rainbow
Somewhere

                       By Phil Roberts

I was falling,
then crawling,
fighting to find my way

You materialized,
a lantern in the storm,
Offering warmth and safety

I held your hand
and off we ran
Headlong into insanity

Just for a moment,
I had a feeling
that life would be better,
but instead I was sent reeling.

You’ve been trying to help me,
hoping you’d free me
But I’ve slowly been dying
And I fear nothing can heal me.

I yearn for the days
when I could pull poetry
from my brain
like a string of pearls,
shimmering opal,
so beautiful to all.

Where    have    my    pearls    gone?