jane solanrobertson

jane solanrobertson Poems

My head is full of 'something',
I wonder if I'll burst-
I get the weidest feeling
That somehow I've been cursed.

I think I am losing my mind.
My thoughts and feelings
Are crowding

Warrington, the sixties.

When my children cry boredom
I look back and see

Each dark night
I lie cold and alone
Watching raindrops fall:
Never-ending tears of lovers

She's beautiful and bubbly
And mixes easily
Her warmth descends on anyone
That her green eyes might see.

I'm drawn by the spirits
Of long-ago souls
To stairwells that spiral
Through claustraphobic holes

This silence is eerie
The sickly stench of desecration
Catches in my throat
Your tiny coats still swinging

Imagine that I am a candle-
Look into my flame:
Although my beauty tempts you
To me it's just a game.

But I saw you.
Through the chink in the curtain
When I almost didn't look
And the curtain blew

Know what?
You've changed.
Used to be a laugh
Now it's

Dinosaurs in the breadbin,
Fish fingers in the loo -
If you had to live in our house,
You'd be crazy too!

Beneath a room
Where cherubs slept
You lay

Solid strong and steadfast
But quiet and cold, I wait:
My flowered walls call out to you
To walk in through my gate.

Rows and rows of boxes
All of them the same
With rooms and rooms of people
Each without a name

I've had my share of lovers
Passionate or cool
Excitable or brooding

Through the open window
My arms reach out
Past curtains that quiver;
Where the sky is darkening to midnight blue-black.

Figment Man
Back where you came
Whaddya look like
Don't know your name

They met again by chance
And in a split second
The years had vanished
A polite handshake doing nothing to cool the fire

I am sleeping when the tremors begin.
Stronger and stronger they grow
The soft wet walls closing in on me and out again.
I am afraid.

My numbers are there - I 'm a millionaire!
What shall I do with the money?
One minute in hock, the next in deep shock -
Being wealthy feels ever so funny.

jane solanrobertson Biography

Hi! I'm a single mum of four, and my children are now all between 16 and 25 years old.I always wrote poetry and short stories as a child, then wrote quite a lot of poetry in my 30 s, having about 24 pieces published in anthologies. I then struggled to find the time and put it all on the back burner for a while.Ive recently decided its time to put pen to paper once more, so I'd very much appreciate any comments you may have on reading my work. Thankyou all! jane)

The Best Poem Of jane solanrobertson

The Literary Curse

My head is full of 'something',
I wonder if I'll burst-
I get the weidest feeling
That somehow I've been cursed.
I feel it brimming over
Into ever-increasing surges
And know I must make sense of
These strange creative urges.
They ooze out onto paper
To relieve a frantic mind,
So many thoughts deciphered
Into words I have to find.
Outbreak turns to outlet
And a gradual release
Of emotions somehow channelled
Into a literary piece.
The tremors are subsiding
I'm in remission, I know it
From this sickness, the price I pay
For being born A POET!

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