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Best Poems Written by Robyn Thomas

Below are the all-time best Robyn Thomas poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Tigress' Mark

She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.

The ominous reflection of moon 
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.

Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.

Her claws prophesy of vengeance 
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency 
for a soul's annihilation. 

Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

The Little Soldier Boy

His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.

Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.

His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.

Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

Waning Hope

Where phantoms dwell in halls beyond recall
Bound to fate in cells of sanity’s fall 
Where souls were left to hunt their past
Cold, lost, bereft. A wasteland vast

Whence I will run, and seek through tombs,
Forget the sun as dark thunder looms.
She too dwells here, a child of strange charms.
Wounds to sear, bled out in late arms.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

The Nightingale and the Swan

Colours bounce in euphoric ecstasy
and another day is birthed, in melody,
as the dawn brings forth emerald reflection,
the sun playing on the looms of nature's glee
with the nightingale's whistle in a harmony.

Dull on it's perch,
determined in his search
for a jewel in creation's crown,
a partner for his song to emerge,
he prepares to lurch.

He spots her on a lake,
a white rose, a snowflake,
drifting on crystal serene,
a beautiful image to make,
her beauty in its surroundings partake.

This fragile goddess
with his best song he tries to caress
and the brooding bud,
a stunning glory ageless,
unfolds to his tune, guileless.

Yet when she tries,
her voice defies,
and he knows she will not sing.
A sudden sorrow in her eyes,
she bows her head and sighs.

But song, his voice like a lyre,
her beauty, her eyes of sapphire
make for a perfect match:
all creation they admire
together compensating for flaws like ice and fire.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

Sea of Forgotten Dreams

Cold and dark, the eyes of the depths
glaring at the stars above.
Few dare descend the steps
which reach down to oblivion’s cove.
Heavy, the desire for truth,
like the chains dragging my body further down
unto fate unknown.

Beyond recompense, lies the ruin
sunken to forbidden ground,
now home only to the strangest of creations
and catacomb to the drowned slaves of history.
Will all memories be as this one day?
Ghosts that haunt the corpses of humanity’s ambition?

Black are the bells that once chimed to announce omen.
Buried are the thoughts that walked my mind.
Broken are the tables where ideas once feasted.
Bound are the hopes, eaten by preying sharks of doubt.

Weighing down, the garments choke the breath of life.
There, where insanity was sane, beneath facade’s streams
lies truth, in the sea of forgotten dreams.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

The Rose That Grew From Concrete

Many a mind hurries past
the gripping splendour
in search of beauty, not to last,
while continuing in rejection of grandeur.

I look as the moments pass
at the wounded walkway.
The sand flows through the hourglass
and time conforms to seconds and seconds to day.

There, in the heart of pain,
at the crack of dawn
grows through the mundane,
purity, life’s mystery in an image drawn

Red bursts open in colours array
but expectation it defied
as time had not intended bloom ‘till the following day
and still nature’s scarlet tears are cried.

Dusk was meant to encompass
the brooding gem in the snows
but the bud unfolded in its stubbornness
and yet not its pedals froze.

I suppose the dark of night
and the bitterness of day
could not smite 
what would have its own way.

The bud grew beautifully in strength
and blossomed in wisdom,
knowledgeable in great length,
yet its leaves forbade a future grim.

Somehow it lacked endurance
and what blind humanity refused to meet
became the trampling of our innocence:
the rose that grew from concrete.

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Let It Be

Let no shadow be cast in my soul
for I have seen the countenance of grace.
Let my heart not build a wall
to hide the furious compassion of Your face.

Let the rain of mercy fall
upon the dry wasteland of my memories.
Let my life answer to Your call
and my own stubbornness cease.

Let me not at the foot of the cross
resent precious blood splattered for me.
Let it cover the pain of loss
and from sin set me free.

Thank the Lord my soul can rejoice
for I am but a sinner whom You gave a choice.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

The Child Within

Beyond smiling lips
carrying the sorrows of the past,
behind the eyes' sparkle
concealing the darkness of horrors still to last
stares a stranger, young and kind.

Yet she shows not her face
for the stroke of death's caress
extinguishes the aroma of her heart.
Not for any sin, but tenderness
so pure. For survival's sake, she died.

Now her corpse haunts the corners of thought.
Her laughter echoes throughout the years
like the singing bird clipped of wings.
Steel nerves creak with the rust formed by her tears
and audibly a cry from her coffin screams.

Perhaps her ghost will someday rest
when justice to her grave is done,
her tombstone placed to mark her existence  
and known in my reflection...

Yes, I killed her. I murdered her in cold blood still flowing.
Now she is vengeful, her dead heart still pounding.

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

True Story: Echo of Insanity

Come the dark, come sleep:
music box tunes commence as commanded
by Father Time to prance tauntingly in years gone by 
and the daunting hours inevitably to come.
Melodies visit long buried memories of faded visions;
adoring their distorted collection 
in the horror house of a once brilliant mind.

“Hush now”, they say.
“You know there is no other way”.
The maniacal visage of unspoken abominations again 
burrows into a skull weary of nocturnal screeches:
A mother rips sight from her toddler as punishment for innocent trust.
A stranger’s mutilation for the torture of a bound, evolving evil.
Children’s demise by poisoned whip wielded by a shadow bearing Cheshire grin.
The screams of a woman, naked and lost, caught in thorns to tear flesh from bone…
17 000 nightmares born into an infant, now grown.

Come the dawn, come the wake:
… ”No! It’s daylight, they cannot be here!
Don’t take sanity, fragile and stressed!”
No answers, no mercy
as reality gets bombarded, 
and friends’ faces once a comfort
rearrange into monstrous mirages.
Cackle laughter I hear nearby
and realize it’s escaped my own throat.

I plead to the breeze that I may still be asleep…
Its only reply a familiar, mocking rhyme:
“Tik-tok, tik-tok.
Time’s up on your clock.
Can't you hear the drum? 
Don’t run, only succumb.”

Despairing what is to come
Despite warnings from my conscious mind I look at my wrist. 
Hair raises, desperate words unspoken.
The watch I've held all my life is broken.

03 October 2016
Scare Me Good Poetry Contest

Details | Robyn Thomas Poem

No Second Glance

There I stood, barely nine
as he was taken in the light of day.
A prisoner of fate was I, given no sign,
to witness his limp body bruised lay,
yet as adult walked away from his shrine. 

There I stood, steeling my stance
for the sake of my silence
as children mocked, giving no chance.
From solitude I drew my resilience
and gave no second glance.