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?
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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) .
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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?
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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.
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A snow flake is so complex, yet soft enough to enhance romance.
No flake is like another, neither is a friend or a lover.
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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,
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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.
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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.
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Its time to rise,
get up in time,
to see the Moon go sleeps,
the clouds blush,
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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.
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