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Best Poems Written by Robynn Simmons

Below are the all-time best Robynn Simmons poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

The Lunar Vein and Sunken Emeralds

The cragged moon, a curdled, midnight bloom,
Where veins of frost, dissect a shadowed room.
A galaxy of mold, on lunar stone,
A whispered legend, soft and darkly known.
It weeps a brine, a sharp, celestial tear,
A pungent phantom, banishing all fear.
Then, amber relics, in a glassy tomb,
Where time's slow fingers, weave a spiced perfume.
Each wrinkled emerald, a sunken, ancient eye,
That holds the secrets, of a bygone sky.
They swim in brine, a sun-kissed, golden sea,
Where sharpness sleeps, and tangy memories flee.
These kindred spirits, in a twilight tryst,
A marriage strange, by starlight's silver kissed.
One, a moon's decay, a noble, bitter grace,
The other, time's own kiss, upon a verdant space.
A symphony of tang, a whispered, aged lore,
Where phantom flavors, haunt forevermore.
A taste of ages, in a shadowed, secret place,
A paradox of pleasure, etched on time's worn face.
A velvet darkness, and a sunlit, sour dream,
Where sharpened shadows, and aged sunbeams gleam.

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

The Culinary Shepherd

In the heart of the kitchen, where flavors collide,  
You wield your vocation, with passion and pride.  
Anointed by Heaven, with gifts that you bring,  
To nourish both body and spirit, you sing.  

With skilled hands you blend, a mosaic so fine,  
A feast for the senses, where taste interlines.  
In the sizzle and simmer, your love comes alive,  
Each dish that you serve is where spirit may thrive.  

From humble beginnings to grand tables set,  
You weave joy in the meals, a bond we won't forget.  
With every fresh ingredient, your heart finds its way,  
Transforming mere food into love on a plate.  

You craft every morsel with care and delight,  
A banquet of blessings that ignites the night.  
With laughter and kindness, you gather them near,  
For the hungry, the weary, you've made your path clear.  

But beyond the fine dishes, there's something more true,  
A calling that whispers, "Keep feeding them, too."  
For with each spoonful seasoned by grace,  
You fulfill a divine and sacred embrace.  

So rise up, dear chef, with your heart full of fire,  
In each heart you nourish, let faith and love inspire.  
For you are a vessel, in kitchens divine,  
Anointed to serve, where the body and spirit entwine.  

May your table be ample, your spirit alight,  
As you feed hungry souls in the soft morning light.  
Continue to craft your legacy bold,  
In the kitchen of Heaven, your story is told.

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

Song Of The Anointed

In the hush of the morning, where whispers arise,  
A voice filled with purpose reaches the skies.  
Your heart, like a beacon, shines hope from within,  
Anointed in spirit, where healing begins.  

With every note soaring, like eagles in flight,  
You weave through the darkness, bringing forth the light.  
A melody crafted by hands touched by grace,  
Encircling the weary in a warm, sweet embrace.  

The chains that once bound them, you shatter with sound,  
In the depths of your worship, true freedom is found.  
Each lyric a promise, each harmony and prayer,  
Brings life to the broken, reminding them you “Care.”  

Lift up your voice, let it rise like the sun,  
For your journey is sacred; it has only begun.  
In valleys of shadow or peaks full of praise,  
Your song brings the light, in countless of ways.  

You are a soft whisper, a tempest profound,  
A vessel of blessings, where love can abound.  
From the depths of your spirit, sweet healing is drawn,  
Keep soaring, dear leader, for new hopes dawn.  

So stride forth with courage, let your heart ignite,  
In the echoes of worship, hearts will take flight.  
For you hold a treasure, both precious and true,  
Anointed with purpose, a gift meant for you.

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

Rime fires Edge Inspired by Rime of the Ancient Mariner

The albatross, a frozen, spectral wing,
Hangs heavy 'cross the sky, no solace it can bring.
A ship of bones, on seas of liquid lead,
Where cursed winds howl, and ancient horrors spread.
The mariner's gaze, a hollow, burning stare,
Reflects the ice, and whispers of despair.
The serpent coils, beneath the frosted wave,
A living shadow, from a watery grave.
The moon, a skull, with eyes of glacial fire,
Watches the dance, of madness and desire.
No stars ignite, this desolate domain,
Only the rime, and endless, biting pain.
The crew, a legion, with eyes like empty shells,
Their voices lost, in echoing, frozen knells.
They haunt the decks, a phantom, silent horde,
Their souls consumed, by what the sea's abhorred.
The ancient curse, a chain of icy might,
Binds them to darkness, in eternal night.
The mariner's tale, a fevered, chilling plea,
A warning etched, for all eternity.
To heed the signs, the whispers of the deep,
Where ancient forces, vigilantly sleep.
For on the edge, of rimefire's icy breath,
Lies madness waiting, and the chill of death.
The ship sails on, a ghost upon the tide,
Where frozen echoes, forevermore abide.
A monument to hubris, and to dread,
A chilling saga, of the living dead.
The albatross, a symbol stark and cold,
A story whispered, in the ages old.

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

The Backstroke of Bitter Tears

I dove into the deep end, headfirst, quite a splash,
Not of the pool, you see, but grief's enormous gash.
It’s Olympic-sized, this sorrow, chlorinated blue,
And I’m the sole competitor, with nothing else to do.
The butterfly of heartache, a relentless, flailing thing,
Propels me through the sadness, making my wet soul sing.
Or rather, weep, a muffled, gurgling sound,
As salty tears mix freely, where grief is always found.
The freestyle of frustration, a frantic, splashing spree,
I’m kicking at the memories, that constantly haunt me.
I’m doing laps of “Why?” and “What if?” and “Oh dear,”
While treading water, burdened by a monumental fear.
The breaststroke of bereavement, a slow and heavy crawl,
Each stroke a painful reminder, of how much I’ve let fall.
I’m gasping for composure, with every sodden breath,
And fighting off the undertow, of existential death.
The synchronized despair, I’ve mastered all alone,
A graceful, watery ballet, on a grief-encrusted stone.
I’m twirling with the "should haves," and pirouetting with the "coulds,"
Performing for an audience, of silent, weeping woods.
The diving board of darkness, I’ve launched from, time and time,
A perfect ten for plummeting, in this emotional climb.
I’m executing somersaults, of self-deprecating wit,
While landing on my belly, in a pool of dripping grit.
So, if you see me floating, with a faraway, wet stare,
Don’t throw a life preserver, or attempt to lend a care.
Just toss a rubber ducky, or a tiny, plastic boat,
And let me drown in sorrow, with a humorous, soggy note.

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

A Prayer Warriors Light

In shadows deep, where troubles weave,  
You stand, unwavering, firm in belief.  
With arms raised high, in faith, you soar,  
A beacon of hope, forevermore.  

Your heart’s a vessel, drenched in grace,  
In every challenge, you find your place.  
Through whispered prayers, your spirit ignites,  
In the quiet moments, you summon the light.  

Though the path may twist, and storms may roar,  
You wear the armor, you’ve trained for war.  
Each prayer a warrior's weapon, that shines bright with the light, with every prayer you break through the night.

Encouraged by angels who stand by your side,  
In battles unseen, your hope is your guide.  
The weight of the world may press on your soul,  
Yet within you burns an unyielding goal.  

So rise, oh warrior, let your spirit soar,  
For your prayers are powerful, they open each door.  
With joy in the journey, and strength in the fight,  
You are a warrior, a shining light.  

Keep pressing forward, let love be your tune,  
With each step you take, you’ll dance with the moon.  
For every heart you touch, each soul that you mend,  
You’re anointed and cherished, your spirit won’t bend.  

Let courage embrace you, let hope be your song,  
In the arms of the prayer, you're where you belong.  
So lift your head high, let the world hear your call,  
For you are His warrior, the strongest of all.

Details | Robynn Simmons Poem

Colors Between Time

A GATE of twilight, where hues begin their slow descent.
The fading light, a JEWEL caught in time's soft hand.
A SHADOW falls, a silent, whispered, deep MUTTER.
 Through time's vast GATE, a spectrum's memory flows.
 A MUTTER of rust and gold, where moments interweave.
 The JEWEL of dawn, escaping night's dark SHADOW.
 And time's own GATE, where colored echoes softly hover.