Robert Macmillan Poems

Golden words,
Passing by a boyish grin
Weigh–heavy; What be their worth
Yet are light enough to understand
...

She was standing
In a crowded mall of way
Her knees; Questioning her stable stay
And what made the difference
...

Half–Hatchet! Where gone your Ancestry
Ground–Down & Dull... Stripped of pride
Be no more to roam the open wide
Left only, half–heard wisdom... Echoing a right–proud past
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NINE O'CLOCK LOCAL–69
(Five O'Clock Call)
...

How soft
The Spattered splash of brush
Spread–Gently
‘Cross the pastel–blue
...