Comments Posted By robyn

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coated

Chocolate coated. Coat coated human. Sugar-coated truths. These are the first three things that coats remind me of and I wonder if there’s a correlation for the three items and their decreasing relative levels of sweetness. Chocolate coated strawberries or marshmallows or cakes are, literally, sweet. A human being, bundled up against the cold in a lush parka, may or may not have a sweet demeanor. I mean, hopefully being warm would raise their spirits considerably if the alternative would be lacking the parka and, therefore, freezing in the cold? But sugar as a disguise for something altogether bitter and much too complicated to be made tolerable by a dusting of white powder? I should think that the deceptive nature of this sugar would render any of its physical sweetness a toxic impostor.
Indeed, we often like to think that we can cover up the tastes, the sights, the memories, the mistakes, the lies, the past with sprinkling of something more palatable; but in reality, it is this additional compound, this attempt to alter what is, that may be the greater poison.

» Posted By Robyn On 08.14.2017 @ 9:22 pm

concert

My first concert was with a boy that I no longer speak to. We went to see The All-American Rejects, A Day to Remember, and Blink-182. I knew the words to approximately three songs and I wish I had listened to the playlist he made a little bit more before we went so that I could sing along. But it also just made me happy to see how happy he looked while belting out the lyrics to (all) the songs. You see, he went to see some of his favorite bands perform; I went to see some bands from which I knew one song each and all the joy they would bring to one of my favorite people. He’s not one of my favorites anymore, but that concert was a good day for us. Bittersweet, I suppose, but I don’t think the memory is tainted just because of the way things are now. The past is the past; past happiness brings current happiness; good things are not tarnished after-the-fact. A remembrance of a shiny silver spoon will always feature that spoon. The tarnished monstrosity that currently resides in the door is but an after thought. No need to be any more or any less real than what existed in a bygone season.

» Posted By Robyn On 08.01.2017 @ 11:26 pm

crosses

The church was creepy as fuck and he didn’t know how to tell her that without offending her so he just kept quiet. Someone was obviously super passionate about collecting crosses because there must have been a couple thousand of them hung up on every bare inch of wall space.

» Posted By Robyn On 07.31.2017 @ 5:54 pm

balcony

She peered through the grating and saw just the body down below. No movement. Which was expected, honestly, I mean, how much would she be moving if she had just plummeted fourteen stories?

» Posted By Robyn On 07.30.2017 @ 11:09 am

chaos

The fire in the kitchen started slowly, moving inexorably around the ground floor of the house, creating chaos as it blazed through the furniture and appliances.

» Posted By Robyn On 05.17.2016 @ 9:44 pm

apple

The fall sun cast a long, arching shadow across the grove. The dew, just beginning to dry, left a soft sheen on the dull skin of the apples.

» Posted By Robyn On 05.15.2016 @ 1:26 pm

reflecting

My reflecting has changed with age.
The face I see in the mirror looks back at me with a less critical eye,
I see acceptance and forgiveness.
My older eyes know to look beyond the mirror.

My reflecting has changed with years.
Near sixty years of life passage –
So much love and death and joy and pain
Already lived.

My reflecting has a wider view.
There is so much more looking back now that
I must, you see, remember to delight in all
There is ahead.

» Posted By Robyn On 03.09.2016 @ 6:59 pm

acrobat

Leap of faith
Free falling
The perfect flight of fancy
The blend of fire and ice
Composed explosion
Feather and rock.

» Posted By Robyn On 03.04.2016 @ 5:43 am

mighty

And just like the mighty he had fallen. He was denied entrance to his home. His heaven. The gates locked to him forever. The lone angel hung his head. He was forced to do the one thing every fiber of his being begged him not to do. He asked for help from mankind.

» Posted By Robyn On 06.01.2015 @ 6:12 am

deafening

The silence was deafening. But how can silence be deafening? Isn’t silence silent, and doesn’t it take noise to be deafening? This is a stupid statement: silence is deafening. Silence by definition can’t possibl

» Posted By Robyn On 05.30.2015 @ 9:07 pm

waltzing

Waltzing Matilda….I remember signing the song when I was a child. I love the sing-songy feel and the flowing movements that came to mind in this song.
I could play for hours with this song in my head but, I also imagined waltzing at a grand ball in a castle in Europe. Fun, fun. To get dressed up in a fancy ball gown and twirl around hour after hour with a handsome gent. Curtsy and bow, dip and twirl. I love to

» Posted By Robyn On 05.16.2015 @ 6:09 am

controller

She looked at the controller. Her mind went blank. “How am I supposed to do this?” she thought to herself. The pilot was unconscious. She knew she was the only chance the rest of the flight had. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” she chanted silently to herself. But how? All her training, all of those hours in flight simulators, and nothing had prepared her for this. She slowly hovered a hand over the panels, lightly touching the joystick. I CAN do this.

» Posted By Robyn On 03.17.2015 @ 9:45 am

adorable

She looked so adorable in that pink sweater. I couldn’t stop looking at her blue eyes. The way she stared out at the dog across the street was so adorable. I need to stop saying that – adorable. But that’s what she is to me. I am so in love. No, wait. I can’t be in love. I don’t know this girl. You’re right, I’m not in love. There’s just a girl. And she is adorable. No, wait. I said i would stop using that word. Okay, but she really really is. That pink sweater and those softly faded blue jeans and her blue eyes and her green hair.

» Posted By Robyn On 03.12.2015 @ 11:51 am

cub

There is was. It was so small I almost missed it. Cute, a fuzzy little lynx cub. I didn’t know what to do with it. It was just left there in the middle of the road. I scooped it up and slipped it into my coat pocket and away we went.

» Posted By Robyn On 12.03.2014 @ 6:20 pm

hardly

if we are all just mirrors
of the places we’ve born witness to,
then i would still love him for all of it

» Posted By robyn On 09.22.2014 @ 3:53 pm

patch

This makes me think of a pirate with one eye; one eye because he lost it in battle, a battle of which we shall never know the true details but his patch gives us enough illusion to imagine battlegrounds and ship crusades and cannons and pirateous

» Posted By Robyn On 07.04.2014 @ 7:12 am

backtrack

two things.

I. if i loved you any less
i would still swallow you whole —

II. that moment when you leaned in near to me
to say something just as fragile;
i was too caught up on slowing my heart to pay attention,
i always miss the important parts

» Posted By robyn On 05.17.2014 @ 10:49 am

stillness

he doesn’t talk to me about the silver lining
he says, if i don’t know it, he can’t take me there;
it’s a stillness in the collapsed lungs between our breaths,
and in the morning when he wakes up beside me
he pulls a journal from underneath his bed
writes down last night’s dream
and doesn’t let me read

at breakfast he will peel an orange
and for the rest of the day his hands will smell like sweet citrus,
but by breakfast i’ll be gone
and have to remember them from the moving distance of my car

» Posted By robyn On 04.24.2014 @ 10:19 am

withhold

She was upset. There was no need to bother but still she decided to withhold the information from him. It wasn’t like it was a massive secret after all, but she didn’t want to make him angry, or worse, disappointed. There was nothing worse than someone disappointed in you.

» Posted By Robyn On 04.18.2014 @ 1:54 pm

welcoming

i want to see a plot-driven theory answering the mechanics of the world
why did you move
to move
(stepping over grass, you’ve made the soil too dense for worms to crawl to the surface — every tiny bit of life is given to you from another’s)

» Posted By robyn On 04.02.2014 @ 8:35 am

dealer

my dad was a car dealer. And it consumed his life perhaps it was sort of like being a drug dealer. Just slightly more legal. And anything that consumes you and your family that much is a drug after all, isn’t it?

» Posted By robyn On 03.12.2014 @ 10:01 pm

orphans

The children’s home stood empty and abandoned on the corner. No one dared buy it. The was run down and rotting away. Cold empty beds sat inside.

» Posted By Robyn On 02.07.2014 @ 4:54 am

starlit

As she looked out unto the new world she had created thousands of stars began to fall from the sky. As she stared they stopped being stars and became angels falling out from the starlit sky.

» Posted By Robyn On 02.05.2014 @ 7:17 pm

slip

Her eyes were cast down, as she looked at the ice, cracked but solid, pressed down over the grass, preserved in a writhing, swirling pattern, clearly visible until the ice was crushed by her foot. Splintering out from the gash she made, it formed it’s own fractal pattern. She lost herself in this world of simple line and colour, and then her foot slid, and with a whoosh she slipped.

» Posted By Robyn On 01.04.2014 @ 11:22 am

sniper

I saw the tiny speck of light glinting in the distance. I knew I had to shoot it. I knew it was some poor sod’s hand but I knew I had to shoot it. What would the outcome be? Execution for cowardice more than likely. But then, death was inevitable.

» Posted By Robyn On 01.04.2014 @ 11:09 am

exactly

she said
Hell
is waiting for a definition.
The in-betweens of
one woman’s finger’s from the next,
a man plays music
by their candle-lit table,
and they look into each other’s
eyes and just as all the room starts to sway
from the jesting of diners
– pointing with their forks –
but when they stand up to leave
(the bill was split)
it is a hug with one arm
(the weight of purses in priority)
and when they begin to walk
it is in different directions
forks breaking the skin of steaks.

» Posted By robyn On 01.01.2014 @ 4:33 pm

nothing comes in as hard or as fast as the asymmetrical wanderlust that accompanies short-range shotguns in the passenger side of a two-door truck whose backseat you had to climb into before 4-a-m or risk being late to a cross-country road trip spurred by an existentialist fear projected onto the limits of geography & even though it’s the closest to prayer you’ll get it’s the angriest you’ve been in a while, reasons to be against your father are substitutions for confession, he puts the guns in the front

» Posted By robyn On 01.01.2014 @ 4:19 pm

aperture

the nostalgia of strangers’ photo albums;
if i were to put something on the coffee table
for the entertainment of waiting visitors
i am not sure it would be my childhood

and i have been coached that domestic success
will manifest as annual portraits of well-dressed young couples in the holiday season
but the longest partner i ever held (for three days, arms-in-arms, legs&legs)
had matted hair and tangles

for the kind of photos
lovers only exchange among each other;
the snapshot of the back of your thigh
framed on the kitchen counter,
we have not decorated for winter.

» Posted By robyn On 12.12.2013 @ 12:27 pm

scalp

william puts cigarettes out on the back of his palm;
forearm tattoo that reads ‘grace’ and bicep that says ‘forever’,
his step-father was a minister.

in grade ten he set the janitor’s car on fire
for molesting the freshman girls,
he talks about ultimate respect
and his own inadequacies.

we both know he thinks too much
and the hours between 5pm when we first meet
and 2am when i become too cold
are spent looking in mirrors of each other,
testing sentences, saying ‘me too.’

i think every person i’ve kissed is the one,
me too.

» Posted By robyn On 10.16.2013 @ 6:30 pm

stamped

this idea of homecoming:
that after the long end has passed
you will come to me
as though i am an identifiable place that can be found, and static, and claimable;
i would love to map the movement of people
like constellations,
if your morning route left traces
i could see from the sky

i have been less romantic than this
but one day we’ll be old
and think of all the stories we could’ve told
and even loving you will be finite

» Posted By robyn On 10.15.2013 @ 12:07 pm

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