Have, Lee Robison’s collection of poems, may now be ordered at your local bookstore. Although it is available on-line, if you are inclined to purchase Have, I recommend you place an order to your local book seller and pick it up there. There are three reasons I recommend this: First it gets you out of … Continue reading HAVE, Poetry by Lee Robison, Available at Bookstores or On-line
It was a long day. They rode most of it, climbing through bottoms heavily timbered by fir and spruce with patches of aspen yellow in the draws and along the creek. At first, they followed a marked USG Forest Service trail, the blazes browned with time. Ora lead the packhorse and Mike rode behind. Near … Continue reading Probably Should have Taken the Trail
O plaintive for plainted skies for plaintive waves of plaint, for plaintly mountains plaint above the plaintive plaint. O plainted land! O plaintive land! Plaint shed His complaint on thee And plaint thy plaint with plaint From plaint to plaintive plaint. A review of the American patriotic hymn "America the Beautiful" with apologies to those … Continue reading This Plainted Land
to lie in summer grass uncut by suburbia or the commerce of hay to lie in this aura, this odor of soil and cured grass, to lie under the flagging blooms of Timothy, Brome or Western Bunch bannering against a blue so vast that whole lives cannot know it, to lie in this overture of … Continue reading To Lie in Summer
A little-big white guy shambled into El Paso, Texas, the other day. And all his shams came tumbling after him. He is the President of the United States. According to protocol his purpose was to mourn with and console the living in their hurt after a mass killing. This is what people who are elected … Continue reading The Sham is a Shame
Summer fallow plot, cheat grass and pigweed tangle— wild sunflower yellow!
Back in the day Doreen was quite busty and an on-her-back young lusty; but the bust drooped, and the back stooped, and now Doreen is an upright old fusty. Darrel was a boasty young lust sparking Doreen for her bust; but the lust went gloppy and Doreen went floppy. Now Darrel’s an crusty old fust.
Summer dusk, poem thought— hummingbird hums in, whirs out— gone, just like that, it's gone. A poem composed last night before the Ragtag Community WOD, transition, was posted—but applicable.
This Montana boy is dinkum apologetic because "dinkum" does not appear in his poetic aesthetic For, though a dinkum shameless lingual thief, He’s ashamed, as a dinkum fly-over American inlander, (O, let us in dinkum shame be brief) to never have pilfered "dinkum" from any dinkum New Zealander!
Deek Komplec and Danny Fars were hunting cutthroat trout in the lake they had known as Congress Lake since they were boys. They weren’t skinny, fleet-footed boys chasing the biggest fish anymore. Neither of them were paunchy in their age, but bones rumbled and creaked when they moved, and when they stood from a chair … Continue reading Fishing and the Names of Mountains