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Best Poems Written by Lora Robinson

Below are the all-time best Lora Robinson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Be Good Or Be Good At It

Say good morning to the cold bathroom floor-
mouthwash tastes like a reused mojito
vomit erupting from a molten core-
in the sink, fermented blood starts to show
from sacrament taken on Thursday night,
my last supper. Judas, feel what I feel-
whiskey nailed to a cross, my final fight. 
No more beer or tonics will make me kneel 
genuflected for a porcelain god-
today I will rise steady on two feet,
not carried by a bouncer as he plods
to a dented cab in a smoky side street
My dear friend, you dined silent at my side,
But under your thorns I cannot hide

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Prince

He tides me,
Like the moon stirs the seas-
Pulling me in, pushing me
Out,
Burying my feet in the sand
As if to say-

"I don't want you to go,
I don't want you to stay"

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The G Word

G- giving?
O- only
D- deceiving

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Icarus

Love, the noon time sun-
You'd melt the wax off my 
Arms, soaring
Before I could fly within reach 
Of your great heights


Revision One: Round Poem Revision 

(I need ideas to make this into a round poem)
Before I could fly within reach
Of your great heights. 
Love, the noon time sun,
You'd melt the wax off my
Arms, soaring-

Details | Lora Robinson Poem

Woman of God

"Have you ever seen a rainbow?"
through a rain-soaked window pane, 
cathedral for my rosary

Can you believe in Him?
no more than I believe in myself 

What of the Son?
I am mother to no man 

The Holy Spirit?
little more than vapor

Would you join your Sisters?
my only habit is deceit 

What of heaven?
the cold does little for my lungs 

Would you wait between?
my soul is promised to an angel named Death

Will you burn eternal then?
I savor the ash

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Fly

Clip a bird's wings at birth
so she may never feel
the deprivation of stolen freedom,
never a sitting bystander to the open
air, her song never leaving the nest 
from her body, trapped 
Eternal

Details | Lora Robinson Poem

Late August

I feel the chill of the Birth Month
that kills the season of the drop top meanders in firefly fields,
rhythmic beating of bugs against flesh,
soaking golds and sparkling reds
a richer filter, an exquisite endlessness that terrifies in the permafrost,
but stirs a chorus in the vibrato of the cicadas,
a crescendo rustling through the cattails that arc over 
the banks, like a dome in this sphere of the unkempt and the sacred,
the spontaneity we choreograph-

is this forever,
or is it finally September?

Details | Lora Robinson Poem

Divide

"I have spent a lifetime separating,"
like the spaces between his fingers,

or the breaths between our lips-
his taut, 
like pulling back a rubber-band that snaps on mine
and hangs loose

or the riverbed of crimson sheets
between our lying figures-

turned away from our closed hearts
and open eyes

Details | Lora Robinson Poem

Offerings

he makes me offerings,
little strings of his face he places on my knee,
a line of black ink
in a bowl of milk

one day I slid
my lover's beard barb across his cheek-
watching him squirm and giggle made me giggle too,
for he could not fathom the ecstasy of a hundred on my neck,
or a thousand between my legs