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Best Poems Written by Keith Robson

Below are the all-time best Keith Robson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Creations Song

As rain clouds clear striated blue
And sun streaks write their names once more
Upon dawn meadows tranquil green
And all along the distant shore,
On far horizons dappled white
The morning creeps across the sea
On scattered wings of silver lace
That bring the song so close to me.

And every kind of whisper joined
In softly traced creations song
Where life wakes to its sweet refrain
A yearning chorus to belong,
It reaches all around the world
 Where children of their lands stand tall
And permeates their pain filled hearts
Each time they hear their Angels call.

And all by itself in a far flung field
A tree sheds whispers of its own
No matter where you live your life
There’s no such thing as being alone,
Yet in the islands of our hearts
We feel like castaways sometimes
So many bottles cast adrift
As we wait for returning rhymes.

Yet when we sleep, life’s reason calms
The furthest reaches of our soul
Within its own embracing arms
To make us waken feeling whole,
Perhaps one day there’ll be no pain
Across the world, just smiles of joy
As heaven’s lessons grow inside
Each man and woman, girl and boy…

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Always

Just a tiny scrap of
night sky
Set with
A single star,
Wrapped
In shining evensong
And tied
With a ribbon
Of moonlight,
Kept with me
To remind me
Always
That no darkness
Is total.


Just a quiet soft
green valley
Washed with
A gentle rain,
Safe
From sadness and
regret
And touched
With a feeling
Of deep peace,
Kept with me
To remind me
Always
That no despair
Is final.


Just a small pressed
flower
Saved from
A Wedding bouquet,
Kissed
With memories of the
heart
And faded
With the feelings
Of long ago,
Kept with me
To remind me
that
Always
Is but a moment
in time

Details | Keith Robson Poem

The Poetry of Life

I feel the tiredness of my years, those quiet times when breath appears
in melting mosaic imagery, upon the mirrors of a sea
that only calls so many names, through pious sunlit tortured flames
that scrape themselves away from light, then wander off into a night
of promises and empty eyes, the kind that used to hold surprise
when church songs played in moonlit rain, afraid to wander back again
through open doors and empty hearts, until the rhythm of night departs,
like shadow paintings on a wall, the kind that dance, but never call.


I know the mysticism of time, so much gone by within my rhyme
so much still here, so much to come, yet even time stands still for some,
for hours are bolsters for a head to dream of life and death instead
of dreaming silently away the hours of each poem of day,
life’s poetry holds certain charm, it holds you up from fault or harm,
then brings you back to Earth again, to laugh your joys, or feel your pain,
I write to breathe, I breathe to live, for words hold many things to give
to tortured souls and hearts that grieve, to countless spirits that believe.


I seek the beauty that seeks me, a celtic song, a sleeping sea,
a moonlit road that points the way to everything life needs to say,
a baby’s laugh, a robin’s call, so much to touch me after all,
the souls I meet upon the road, the friends who wish to share my load
to lift me up, to share a joke, when shoulders bow beneath the yoke
but most of all a heart to share, to walk with me to who knows where
to hold me close when it gets dark, to raise me up just like a lark
to lay by me as evenings dim, so much of life is like a hymn...

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Blues and Grey

As I was wrapped up in the blues one gently fading Summers day
I watched the coming twilight’s clouds as they crept slowly up the bay,
 And from shade tinted ocean whispers, while remembering many things
 I zipped up my guitar as seagulls stitched the air with snow white wings,
Then I strolled into a dream of such spectacular design
That it spoke to me of shadows through a crystal glass of wine,
And as I walked into an evening of remembrance tinted grey
There was much for me to think about, yet not too much to say.

Such dreams can cast you to the winds, and take you far away
To many books you havn’t read, or some place you cant stay,
Life holds so many burnished stories and so many twisting lanes
That it can tell you countless things that still never explains
Why blues men play and poets write of love and life and woe
Yet each and every one of them seldom knows the way to go,
For some corners hold shadows and yet others hold the sun
And some lead down to darkness, and yet some are heaven spun.

And yet I can speak with certainty for I have found my way
To stanzas of uplifting joy, from nothingness at play,
For poetry winds around my heart and whispers to my soul
With such hush soft serenity that once more I feel whole,
While prayers can bring you many things, so also can the blues
It can bring you down or stand you up as you put on your shoes,
Then dance your way through living dreams that sing of so much pain
And yet when the music finishes, it drifts back once again…

Details | Keith Robson Poem

A Church Without the Need For Prayer

There is a place that’s dear to me
Upon the rolling Cumbrian hills
A church without the need for prayer
Where Wordsworth saw his daffodils,
A place where poetry writes itself
With soft simplistic elegance
In words that dance and interplay
With timeless grace and sweet romance.


There is a song I love to hear
When memories are not yet dead
So far away, so crystal clear
It wanders softly through my head,
To make my dreams feel sanctified
Extraordinary as it seems
My song gives me the deep insight
That dreams are never merely dreams.
 

There is a moment that I need
When every motion fades away
A touch of newborn innocence
That signifies the coming day,
A pause before the rising dawn
When sun tied clouds have struggled free
To let my moment wander on
In search of what is soon to be.


Between the morning and the night
The sounds of life are dear to me,
Like waves that crash upon a shore 
Or children’s laughter dancing free ,
But most of all my senses feel
The need for what is pure and true,
For every poem I ever penned
Is never more than ”I love you…”

Details | Keith Robson Poem

My Church

In the church are whispers high, so sweet that they defy belief
They wave their branches to the sky, bared warnings to the Autumn thief
And down below in cloistered shade, the hymns of evening bare their souls
Regretfully the echoes fade, as down the aisles their darkness rolls,
And rainbow glass turned deepest grey, touches the heart of evensong
While twilight sacrifices day, two endings that just don’t belong,
Soft bird song peels away the eve, and every single painted call
So beautiful I cant believe the curtained silence slowly fall.


Through the windows heaven high, an emerald essence on the air
And though we were taught not to cry, soft silver teardrops everywhere
Sift metronome like to the ground, within their quiet tiptoed dance,
A peaceful time touched tick-tock sound, that gives so much a second chance,
While wandering in spectral shade, so many living pieces make
A jigsaw that will never fade, a segment of creation’s lake,
So many sighs of breathless green, and many more of perfect peace
The church is a forever scene, a form of heavenly release.


Around the church there are no walls, it’s organ is the stream’s sweet song
And birdsong echoes from it’s walls, angelic wings that still belong
To heaven in it’s many forms, for churches can take many shapes
Those havens from life’s many storms, those corners where the soul escapes
And where life’s poetry is composed, between the arbours of the dawn
So many Prayers  lay unexposed, as if they’re waiting to be born
Into the church that I attend, the one that lives inside of me
The church I always recommend, the one that I will always be…

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Baby's Breath

Baby’s Breath.

Please give to me the right address
And I will reach you with my rhyme,
Though they may seem expressionless
They excel in the art of mime,
Like trickling brooks upon the page
Like haystacks built with new mown hay,
Like  writings from an ancient sage,
Or morning sounds upon the day.


Please tender me your sympathy
And let me bid to leave the night,
Then I will take you out with me
Where we can bind the early light,
That kindles in the burning dawn
And softly wanders in your eyes,
Like promises, as yet unborn
Before the first new baby cries.


Please give me time to change my song
Into a gentle melody,
For innocence is rarely wrong
And  newborn hearts will ever be,
Poetic nuances of joy
That set a smile upon your face,
That mortal man can not destroy
In this, or any other place.


Please bear with me just once again
And I will kiss the child’s soft face,
Then we’ll go walking in the rain
So grateful for this gift of grace,
And I can hear your laughter sound
Like wind chimes chasing down the bay
Before you skip and blow around
Like pages from another day…

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Eternal Rainbows

When the world paints itself in a butterfly style
We can sit in its meadows and watch for a while,
And remember how beauty can rise from the earth
When rainbow wings rise from a butterfly birth,
In a fluttering heaven of life’s sparkling skies
Each sweet soul is a butterfly that never dies,
Wherever life tumbles through soul scattered days
There is always a field where the butterfly plays.

When the Springtime and Summer are merged into one
The butterflies dance before warm dreams are gone,
And when Summertime shifts into rich Autumn gold
It becomes the right time to come in from the cold,
So the butterflies search for a safe place to sleep
Until Springtime returns and the newborn lambs leap,
As the meadows grow carpets of exquisite blooms
And the butterflies feed in their colourful rooms,

The butterfly flutters by on Summer wings
Like a verse from a poem that quietly sings
As earth’s cycle returns to its elegant style
Still the butterfly lingered for just a short while,
Before leaving their eggs to hatch young ones one day
As the circle continues its wondrous way…

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Oh Such Sweet Exhilaration

In the corner of a hillside cave
Upon a rocky outcrop laid
A crown of soothing wishes made
With sacred vows that she once gave.

And ancient prayers of whispered grace
Still waited with such patient calm
To touch our heart, to take our arm
To walk with us through misted lace.

So far away their voices told
In choral Celtic overtones
Of star cast stones and ancient bones
And memories they forever hold.

A priestess in so many ways
Of trees and streams and come to be’s
Of softly sighing rune cast seas
And most of all, of blessed days.

In glades of soft Celtic creation
A whispering tree, a fluttering bird
So many prayers there, though unheard
Yet oh such sweet exhilaration…

Details | Keith Robson Poem

Tears On the Wind

I turned slowly around and met tears on the wind
As from tattered cloud memories I heard once again
Every verse of the poetry we once composed
As we bathed in life’s whispers, so safe from life’s pain
When our dreams were last vestiges of fading love
And  our smiles were like pages torn out from a book
That we used as the kindling to light our fire
Yet before we had burned them we took one last look.


Though the sun came and touched me, I still felt the cold
I was wrapped in a Winter of heart rending chill
That remembered each moment of all of our rhyme
And then left me alone, like a fool on a hill,
In the depths of my silence I wept in the rain
And I heard the trees speaking, as they often do
Then in some sombre way I felt mended once more
As her tears on the wind felt so near and so true.


Then I got up and wandered through wild garlic waves
To a glade of silk secrets that we had both known
When our feelings were all that we felt them to be
And yet feelings can change when two hearts are alone.
And when tears on the wind touch two souls once again
Through a rose briar arbour I stared into space
 Where our deep mirrored eyes touched the depths of our being
No more tired and grey, just blue sea through white lace…