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Best Poems Written by Debra Robillard

Below are the all-time best Debra Robillard poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Spaghetti Man

There once was a man with spaghetti for hair
It was long. It was stringy, and it flew everywhere

It was white. It was sticky. It collected in clumps.
It was covered in sauce, and meatballs, and junk.

So I went to the man with spaghetti for hair, 
And I said, "Pasta guy, could I ask if I dare?"

I said, "Aren't you embarrased?" and he said, "Not at all!"
He said, "Everyone's different. Some are short. Some are tall.

But I'm one of a kind. And I'm sure you can see,
That in this whole wide world there's nobody like me.

And if I get hungry, and there's no one there,
I just reach up and grab a big bite of my hair!"

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Bumblebee

They say the bumblebee can't fly
His wings won't aerodynamically comply
He has to flap them far too fast
His body's too fat. His wings won't last
Against the wind
He just can't win
The scientists should know

But he who made the clumsy bee knows better
'Cause He strung all those molecules together
He made the wind. He made the wings
And all the other mysterious things
Against all odds the bumblebee
Just rises up and goes

But aren't we all like bumblebees?
God knows that we're the least of these
Addictions tie us to the dust
Depression turns our dreams to rust
We struggle toward the goal
We buzz our wings. We flail the air.
It doesn't get us anywhere
'Til Jesus takes control

And like the bumblebee they say I'll fail
Against the storms of life my courage pales
My sausage thighs don't fit my pants
I lumber when I want to dance
I've heard them say, "Her mind's clear, but
She's sometimes inarticulate. 
Her future seems quite grim."

But all those bright naysayers miss the mark
'Cause they don't know that Jesus is the spark
It's not clear yet what I will be
But I know Jesus lives in me
He'll call me from the grave and He
Will give me immortality
And like the bumblebee, I'll fly to Him

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Cold Journey

The old draught horse with weary hooves will slog
through wet snow pulling hard and breathing fog

and he glides still near farms and fields where we
dream warm of home and fireside's reverie

The motion lulls--my anxious thoughts depart.
We wander, but we know the way by heart

For I was caught by night, but moonlight shines
o'er hoarfrost-painted flowers on the pines 

It's nearly silent, daylight's din is gone
save padding fox feet, snow break, night bird’s song

Far down the path I know where you will wait
with arms outstretched to draw me through the gate

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Party

For your birthday I give you the sideways articulation
of red-tailed shadows against the 
screaming stop light crush,
The sweat-stained, wine-soaked nights 
Spent nodding into cottons
And a box of dreams felt once then
Unopened and lost.
We’ll sing ether wafted alleys,
robot-kissed breasts
bright ribbons
two-penny condoms-- 
I’d give you the sky if you would speak again
my baby angel

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We'Ll All Feel Fine

Don’t go walking in the forest where the trees have fingers
And the lions go aprowling and the moon hangs low
Don’t go skipping through the alleyways of strange dark shadows
Don’t you dawdle where it’s lonely. Oh my child, don’t go.

Stay here by the fire where the kitten’s furry purry
And the fire snaps and crickle cracks and kettles fairly shine
And the popcorn it kerpopples and the tea is sweet with lemon
And we’ll dine on butter brickle and we’ll all feel fine.

Don’t go tripping by the frozen lake where ice is blue as glaciers
Don’t get caught up in the wild wind and blown up by the storm
Don’t go hiking where the polar bears will growl from hibernation
Stay here by the fire where it’s always safe and warm

And we’ll sing our hearts like multicolored dream-furled flowers
And we’ll throw our arms around each other, dance away the time
And we’ll stare in crazy wonder at the storm through the window
And we’ll play the hurdygurdy and we’ll all feel fine.

Now the fire’s nearly dying and the shadows are much closer
And your featherbed is comfy where the eaves hang low
And your eyes are getting heavy, child. The cabin’s warm and cozy
And we’ll always be together, so to sleep you’ll go.

The wind’s no longer howling and the snow is drifting softly
And the kitten’s curled and snoring and the round moon shines
And the love we share together is so safe and true and perfect
So we’ll dream until tomorrow and we’ll all feel fine.

Details | Debra Robillard Poem

Grandpa Ving

My great Grandpa Ving, he would eat anything
That he picked up in his misadventures. 
He ate lots of snails with their heads and their tails,
Grinding their shells with his dentures.

Toenail clippings with cheese? He’d say, “Yes if you please!”
And he’d slurp them all down with abandon.
He’d go down to the bogs and eat live jumping frogs,
But he’d have to unslime and unsand them.

There were times that we thought the things that he ate
Weren’t as bad as they seemed.
For his birthday we fed him chocolate cake
And tuna fish ripple ice cream.

Well, we thought Grandpa Ving would eat anything
So we all became quite surprised.
He ran out in the street, screaming, “That I won’t eat!”
When we offered him burgers and fries.

Details | Debra Robillard Poem

Where (For Sarah)

Where will I be when your light is snuffed from my life?
When you no longer breathe the air I breathe, and I continue unknowing
chopping onions, typing letters, self-aggrandizing
Not knowing that like a Hiroshima survivor
I am the walking dead
my atomic clock ticking down