Alven L. Robinson Poems

Sweat drenched, sucking air,
Crowds screaming Xanax fare - -
A game that's all, composite leather ball,
Not Campion Hall - - just round, pebble ground
...

Who waits for me? And why for me to wait?
The Gate swings a pearl door - the beckoning,
Perhaps a fate.
Alas, the ancient gods, the ghostly hands,
...

The bamboo feels the wind and bends
a harmony transcends
the temple of it home
the grove residing on its own
...

The colored pills,

the silent wills of mood,
...

Two old Navajo
on a bench
changing slowly
with the leaves
...

Three years on, the leaves of spring still fall.

The river views of pearl dawns are gone;
poems of dust have drifted from the shore.
...

Awaken to the art, the light,
the dark that filters through
the panes, each window blessed
of sight and gain and memories
...

The mountain night was heard,

no Word, just the trails of sound,
...

The mind of silk, woven with a rosary of jade,

lingers as a saint beside the fire, watching
...

The world of dreams
sometimes gone
sometimes a forgotten song
replayed as if today
...