Burdens & Smiles

As My Pen Gently Sleeps

2012-01-09T14:08:00.002-06:00

Currently my muse has gone to slumber and rather than force dribble from my pen I choose to let my scribbling heart rest for now. Over the past few year I have written more than possibly any point in my life and may have nearly dried out my imagination. So now I sleep waiting for words to wake me.

Pause

2011-11-08T11:10:00.001-06:00

Pause

My mind is cluttered

The world flies by

Tampering with my emotions

Splitting reality and imagination

Dotting the past with new fresh life

As my memories haze and beige

Too fast for me to take stock

Propelling me to tomorrow

I crave a momentary pause

A chance to catch the floating perfect moments

Before they are whisked away from me

at the dizzying speeds of old age

Before I wither and grey

I want to relish

I want to take my time

Enjoying it all

Especially her

Taking a deep breath

I steady my pen

Knowing the moment I reread

What I have just wrote

The moment will also be gone

Robert Lloyd

8 November 2011

Morning Yearning

2011-10-17T13:07:00.000-05:00

She walked into the room

Teasing me with sway

A night gown that barely hid her sex

She was supposed to be here hours ago

I would have been mad

But she broke me

Just as the day did my window

I was lost

The second she appeared

Wearing a guilty smile

She knew she was forgiven

Say good bye to yesterday

She whispered

Turning Ben Harper up

Just loud enough to drown

Our eventual moans

Robert Lloyd

17 October 2011

perfect moments in color

2011-09-20T15:42:00.000-05:00

perfect moments in color

my feet dangled

in the soft wet water

as she slept on my lap

this was tomorrow

our forever

the perfect love

even with the sun fading

i knew

i would never forget this color of blue

Robert Lloyd

19 September 2011

I’m Sorry

2011-09-19T13:38:00.000-05:00

Her pain was beauty

Tears stained her cheeks

But her eyes

Red, wet, gorgeous

A blue that bright needs tears

She sought redemption

I lost my will

All was forgiven

Forgotten

I was hers again

Forever

Robert Lloyd

19 September 2011

Photo by thedarkknightkik at deviantArt

Grindstone

2011-09-12T09:12:00.000-05:00

Grindstone

Incessant clacks of keyboards echo throughout

Spelled by the occasional water cooler bubble

The fresh smell of coffee lingers to long

And because I don’t drink any it annoys me

I guess I know the pain of nonsmokers

Pass a law for that I think to myself

While deleting important emails

Ones that if I ignore long enough will simply go away

Passed on to someone else

Who pretends to give a damn

I will still get paid

Choosing the simple tasks for now

The fog of the weekend will take a day to lift

And by then the boss will be distracted by something

A problem that only I can solve and seem a savior

It’s repetitive and perfect

I think to myself

Staring out the window

Losing track of time

Robert Lloyd

12 September 2011

Satisfying Eve

2011-08-31T11:26:00.000-05:00

Satisfying Eve

icy pin pricks of pleasure
tickle my skin
I never knew your smile hid so much
behind those lips lies a serpent
a tongue so perfect
I lay like a stemmed apple
ripe for temptation and wrath
and this is just the beginning
since you are not yet naked

Robert Lloyd
31 August 2011

Yeah I know I have been on slightly erotic kick lately. It could be a mid life crisis who knows.

Lace

2011-08-23T14:38:00.004-05:00

Lace

In the shadows I wished for her touch
Plotting my conquest
When the chance came
I faltered for just a moment
Wanting for the silkiness of her thigh
Rushing for the velvet grasp of womanhood upon my fingers
I was given fantasy instead
In the shadows I was no longer in charge
She smiled as my hands stopped their rough excited grope
Awestruck and nervous
They now lightly drifted on lace
I was made that day
Taught to slow my fire
Spent wasn’t always the endgame
In the shadows I let her guide me
She whispered seductively
It was all about the packaging

Robert Lloyd
23 August 2011

Photograph Credit: nb1 by vvola at Deviant Art

Daring

2011-07-20T15:19:00.001-05:00

Daring

I stared at the stars as I walked home
She was worth the blisters on my feet
They always are

I was not to be denied
For that matter
Neither was she

We flirted with disaster
Ignorant of the results
No
Just ignoring the possibilities

For the moment
The world was ours

Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome
One can never be lonelier than this
Waiting for the other shoe to drop

What do you get when two devils play the same game?
The answer is simple
A chance to live
And not be bored

Scared
Heart racing
When that thrill of stupidity passes
I’ll do it again
Knowing it was dumb the first time
Forgetting how it would have burned me the first time
One cannot tame the beast of lust
Not even the power of love

Robert Lloyd
20 July 2011

This was my fortune cookie quote embellished and expanded. The original fortune is highlighted in red within the poem. I love that my imagination can run. Thank you Toads.

Used Car

2011-07-13T12:09:00.001-05:00

Used Car

Where the cigarette burn came from
Who knows
I don’t smoke
Probably never will

What the stain is on the back seat
Can’t really tell
Don’t really want to find out

This beast does it job
Point A to point B
With just a little bit of stale air

The wheel shakes too much
And the brakes are tad touchy
But she’s all mine
Just like she was my sister’s before
My father’s before that
And someone’s before that

That someone probably put the stain there
Smoking while swerving
Moving in and out of traffic
Windows open
Ashes flitting back
Landing on some unsuspecting coed

I can see her
Spilling her Strawberry Hill or Pabts
Soaking her lap and eventually the seat
She panics trying to stop the burn
Who knows where that night led

All I know is it’s there now
I don’t bother hiding it
It gives this old car character
Or it just means I don’t care
Waiting till I get my own new car
One where I can put my own stains
And lost memories

Robert Lloyd
13 July 2011

Private Show

2011-07-06T18:07:00.000-05:00

Private Show

Steam enveloped her
Naked Flesh
Sliding all the way to her bare toes
She was sex

Passion took control as sweat beaded
Over her perfectly shaped body
All eyes were on her
It was a first time
But her animalistic soul behaved as if
She taunted men
On a practiced basis

Her curves swayed to music
Erotically
Dipping and rising
With the heat

Her eyes speared each onlooker with pure lust
They were trapped by her
Desired her
Craved her

She was scared but would not stop
The fire that rose within her
Pushed beyond her hesitation
She was seduction

She tasted the power
Of being a woman
With one simple sip
She knew she would never let go

As the music faded
She already knew she would say yes
Before the carnal crowd begged for more

Robert Lloyd
6 July 2011

Emma

2011-06-06T13:59:00.001-05:00

"Emma" photo by Christopher Sacry

Emma

love was deceit
and her tormented heart
would attest to that

tears kissed the river below
as they fled
staining her seraph face

she was an imperfect beauty
a casualty of sentiment
she sought her revenge

possessing an ache
that was not to be shared
she craved release

his regret would be her undoing
she played Shakespeare’s Ophelia
with one simple leap

Robert Lloyd
6 June 2011

When I saw this photo I was instantly struck with the idea of a modern day "Hamlet". I figured I'd take my writing to the moments before Ophelia was actually found floating in the water. I think this photo is just stunning. What does one think before commiting such an act? The fact that love can be so blind and one sided is amazing to me.

we shouldn’t

2011-06-02T11:58:00.000-05:00

"The Temptress" Greta Garbo -1926

we shouldn’t

she beckons me with a smile.

daring my resolve. her fingers soft and feathery.

stroking my ego. i shouldn’t be here. she shouldn’t be

allowed to tease. as her last bit of scant clothing hits the floor

so does my will to resist. i am the sin of temptation.

the happy at the moment fool.

Robert Lloyd

1 June 2011

pacing myself

2011-05-10T10:39:00.001-05:00

Photo by Sho Shin at Deviant Art

pacing myself

the pitter patter of times feet

pound annoyingly in my head

and i stare blankly at the moments lost

they echo as they fly by teasing

me with what ifs and too bads

but i do not hate or long for them

i simply smile because i realize

the ones that are missed are never more

important than the ones lived or the one

i am living now

Robert Lloyd

10 May 2011

Thanks to all those who occasionally prod me to write again. Its’ something I enjoy and should not let slip away.

the county clerk’s office

2011-03-20T10:16:00.001-05:00

the county clerk’s office

at a day over 18 she was perfection

a bun so tight you’d have sworn her

hair was glued on

he was the bummish 20 something

jeans with holes, hair without a brush

a real go getter

and then there was mom

the mature maybe forceful escort

what was she ensuring?

birth, love or a bit more in the wallet?

30 days the clerk announced

with almost knowing disdain

the girls perfection cracked

is that when we are doing it?

sure…I guess, said the boy

the only other sound I could hear after

was the scratching of the mothers pen

in her check book

~ Robert Lloyd

I would like to say this is a fictional tale but it’s not. As I sat with my fiancé at the county clerk’s office awaiting destiny I was witness to the above tale. The girl came in her air force dress blues. She was so young but proper looking. The boy was a disheveled mess and the mother, who I assumed to be the girls, was very stern. We could only presume what was going on but my guess was it was not love. Maybe it could have been and nerves just got the best of them. I hate to be a pessimist but it was just a bit off and I couldn’t see them lasting, if they even made it to the actual wedding day. I know those are bad thoughts but I couldn’t avoid them. I wish them the best.

Vital Breathing

2011-03-06T11:23:00.001-06:00

Vital Breathing

I shall Breathe the
Breaths that the scared
Hold in

I will live
a million and one years

A single inhale

And a single exhale

at time

The frost of winter
Will escape my
Lungs
Filled with my
Passion
And heat of life

With my last
Gulp and wheeze
I will smile
Knowing
I never missed
A chance to
Suffocate

~ Robert Lloyd

Magic in Your Eyes

2011-02-21T13:41:00.001-06:00

Magic in Your Eyes

The twinkle in your eyes blind my individuality
No need to pretend
Your smile is worth me
I am five in your presence
Chasing, giggling and digging up worms
Look how high I can go
When I am with you I rise to the occasion
No matter if I they tell me “you can’t fly”
For you I am an astronaut
Dark days can’t shade your blue eyes
On the occasion they are kissed by the water of sadness
I will lay down before you
Patiently I shall wait till they dry and glisten again
The twinkle in your eyes blind my individuality
No need to pretend
Your smile is worth me
In the darkness
When I begin to sleep
You lead me into tomorrow’s dreams
When I wake I anticipate
Waiting for those baby blues to peek out
I know there is a reason I wake up
I can get lost in your forever
The twinkle in your eyes blind my individuality
No need to pretend
Your smile is worth me

~ Robert Lloyd

Curves

2011-02-08T21:43:00.001-06:00

Curves

I’m

Smitten

When

She

Walks

Into any

Room I occupy.

She is my world.

Her curves sway

Just enough

To tease

My heart.

She knows it

And still she dares.

Hips and smile

Cocked

Just

Right.

I am

Hers

And

She

Knows

It.

Well...uhm this was my attempt at a shape poem. they are not as easy as they look I now realize lol. But at least I was trying something new lol. I really have no clue how I would have done arms so I am glad I called the poem curves. Aint love sick?

A Bard’s Promise

2011-01-28T13:05:00.000-06:00

As of late, ok maybe longer than as of late, my own writing and creativity has suffered a bit with all that I have taken on: Poets United, the Anthology, my sporting activities, volunteer work, the planning of an extravagantly odd and over the top wedding ( I may just scrap that if I get too busy. Just don’t tell Amber) and of course my full time job. I cannot allow that to be the case. So this is a written promise to me and my readers that I will post at least once a week something of wordy value.

I am in no way complaining about everything in my life. It is all a blessing and I love each aspect but I figure if I write this down here on my two blogs it will help me to solidify a promise to myself!!

So for the faithful few who humor my odd and simple poems please feel free to poke me if this blog gets any sort of cobwebby.

4:00 a.m.

2011-01-21T04:46:00.000-06:00

4:00 a.m.

It is 4:00 a.m.
I lay motionless
Listening to the world scream it’s pains silently
The unforgiving darkness of the night swallows prayers
So I refuse to offer it mine
The denial of sleep grips me tightly
My desire for dreams struggles to breathe
A simple escape suffocates
The neon of the clock is my only companion
It taunts me by not changing
A minute passes maybe every hour or so
As my scattered thoughts pass
I think of yesterday, today and tomorrow
I remember the pleasantry of sleep
I toss
I turn
And my mind wanders yet again
What shall I think of next?
It is 4:01 a.m.
Well at least its progress

By Robert Lloyd
21 Jan 2011

Detroit

2010-12-07T15:56:00.000-06:00

Detroit

gritty unvacuumed floors stick to her feet
as she scuffles trying to feed the baby on her hip
and apply her makeup all in the next 3 minutes

soon she will regretfully hand her child off
to another child who has 3 of her own
just so she can sit on a bench
while the smog strips away the last of her
cheap ill bought perfume

the bus arrives 10 minutes late
and she stands quietly
packed in like a sardine
ignoring the oops gropes on her pleated skirt

eyes frantic she contemplates
a believable explanation that is not the unbelievable truth
all so she can avoid having her already meager wage
reduced for not being wealthy enough to have car

her boss waits
with a smug grin
and she scampers by
her knowing and also victimized co-workers
as the door draws closed
behind her and he begins his fake tirade

when it is over
she swallows…
.
.
.
back her tears knowing
that no matter how bad it gets
it will never get that bad

she spends the rest of her day
without a lunch she never had
waiting in line with hundreds
of others just like her
hoping they have a chance for her
to avoid welfare

she returns home
to once again rest
on her hip her purpose

at least she has a half hour
before her other job starts
this one has windows
and no doors to hide behind
and she can walk there with
plenty of time and cat calls to spare

~ Robert Lloyd
7 Dec 2010

Empty Containers

2010-11-23T15:41:00.000-06:00

Empty Containers

Tongues eagerly anticipate unseen fallings from heaven
Swallowed raindrops are the best candy
Sugar coated laughter and innocence
The acid is just to make them spicy
Heads turned upward
We dance in mud
Craving god
Rain
Rain
Come again
Wash our memories of hate
Bathe us in ignorance and hope
Let us dry only when our hearts are full
It’s these days that when the clouds are so heavy we want distraction

~ Robert Lloyd
22 Nov 2010

Coyote

2010-11-15T14:09:00.002-06:00

Coyote

The music slowed
I kissed her whiskey stained lips
And she smiled guilty
I savored the fantasies
Running round in my head
Somewhere someone bellowed
Last call
We both knew we were headed wrong
The pillow was coming fast
I would not go without
Through clouded thoughts I chose her
My queen for the night
Her brittle dyed hair
Smoke yellowed teeth
All hidden momentarily by my…
Car keys
One hand on the wheel
One hand to cover one eye
One hand in my lap
The fourth hand
Ever so polite
Fumbling at swerved and broken
Speed limits
12 miles of unrecalled vision
It all flashed by
Like film footage of the 20’s
Broken
Jumpy
Hard to understand
When it was all over
She lay there next to me
Muttering about her husband
Morning sun beamed down
Through my bedroom window
Lit her like a fresh rain
I had never seen someone
So ugly

~ Robert Lloyd
15/NOV/2010

Run Ragged

2010-11-02T13:35:00.000-05:00

Run Ragged

Late nights
Incomplete meals
And power naps
The dryer does our ironing
Even though our clothes still go on wrinkly
Before each work day

We volunteer for this
We agree to this
We have to do this to remain sane
… and popular

The quiet of boredom
Threatens life if we don’t
Find the next thing to do
It burns our wings to sit still
We are not butterflies
But social moths

We tempt the flame
So very often
Just to pretend purpose
Or justification

Our taxes swell
And wallets
Shrink and we still
Plastic someone else’s fake smiles
At even higher
Costs or interest rates

Suicide
Is staying home
And realizing
We don’t need any of this

~Robert Lloyd
1 November 2010

Worth

2010-10-01T11:47:00.000-05:00

wortH

i sit and scratcH

having moved from my beD

to the futon 5 feet awaY

the crushed beer canS

and empty handles of jack nearly trip mE

it’s the longest journey of my daY

minus maybe the need for a pisS

sticky from sweat and unpaid billS

i flip through static and court T.V.

my dried hangover tears itcH

i contemplate efforT

she said I was going nowherE

i had to disagreE

i will prove her wronG

tomorroW

or sometime sooN

By Robert Lloyd

1 Oct 2010

Idle Hands

2010-09-21T11:25:00.000-05:00

Idle Hands

The dark haze of the day sets in
A Storm is coming
The sweat of my ignorance
Drops from my brow
I stand bored
In the thick humidity
Fingers jump at vanishing dreams
My Smile breaks at impossible thoughts
As the mosquito sucks from my arm
I watch
Enthralled
With nothing better to do

I have no money
Because I have no work
I have no work
Because I have no skill
I have no reasoning
As the first drops fall from the skies
Tomorrow beckons with the same boring occurrence

My couch cushions no longer yield pennies
The ones I used to gather
For corner store brown bag escapes
In order to get the drunk for forgetting

I dwell on who has extra
Will the last levy of civility break
I decide how to take what should be mine
The skies open up
Pouring rain
Washing away any future guilt

By Robert Lloyd
21 September 2010

.

One too Many

2010-09-18T00:25:00.000-05:00

One too Many

A sip to fill, floods

My eyes listen to heart

A hazel tinged by pink itchy memories

She sleeps as I brood

I poison my kidney and weep

As smoke wafts the foolish past near to touch

A melody of old breaks the levy of thought

Places I have not visited in a long while

I don’t really know why I go back

Yet I enjoy the remember

My whiskey stained kisses

Will wake her briefly as I stumble to slumber

She won’t judge

In the morning

She will offer me savior pills

The liquid of life

Both will fix my dry heavy tongue

And my broken cloudy remembered forgotten yesterdays

I forced the last one down

With no concept of tomorrow

She understands

My foolish trips to grey hazy once upon a times

And smiles

Knowing our tomorrow is brighter

Than my misfit moments

Robert Lloyd

17 September 2010

American Legion

2010-09-01T13:10:00.000-05:00

American Legion

Just this side of legal
She glistens as she sways
Smiling at dirty insinuations

The light bulbs dangle dull

Approaching death

She can’t swallow what she pushes

But she profits on old age

And better days

The 11 am sun burns bright outside

And yet it doesn’t pierce this den
Of broken and faded dreams
Her laughter is laced with just enough flirt
To tempt another unnecessary round
The bourbon burns all the way down
As the pockets empty with overdone tips
Her stare is seduction, near perfect
She polishes the cigarette scarred counter
Leaning just the right way
And for a moment they can live again

Robert Lloyd
1 Sept 2010

This poem is a reminder of friend of mine. Years back she worked as a bartender at an American Legion (A haven for veterans of past wars and military service). It was open at all hours, dank, moldy and depressing but the booze flowed and I would stop in to keep her company and have a few free sips at her request. She would be the youngest in the place by sometimes 40 years so I was obligated in a misery loves company kind of way. Every day she smiled and laughed at the same old stories and jokes and pocketed the cash to pay bills. The same folks were always there wasting their days away drowning in memories, hiding from the present. They only seemed to ever miss a day to attend a funeral. Its not to say we didnt have good times, it was just a harsh reality of life sometimes. The mood was always...unique.

Monday at Noon

2010-08-30T13:51:00.000-05:00

Monday at Noon

His thoughts are
Cradled between yesterday and tomorrow
He sits picking at his soggy sandwich
The workday fog settling in on his mind
Lettuce be free
He thinks while smiling stupidly to himself
Seven stories beneath him
He spies the drones of life
Wondering why they have it better
He taps at the glass
How on earth can an ant climb that high
The wind should blow it away
Just as easily as his thoughts
Switching from this and that
Stuck here
His 30 minute haven of leftovers
Soon he will be reined in
The clack of keys call and someone
Who cannot help but screw up the copier
Will want his paid for paper degree
To help with a screw driver and binder clip
But first
He has to see what mushy dessert sits
At the bottom of his brown paper bag

Robert Lloyd
30 August 2010

The funny thing about this writing is that I love my job and never eally experinec what I wrote. My wondered and I wrote.

Fishing from the Harbor

2010-08-29T18:36:00.000-05:00

Fishing from the Harbor

As the flowers wilt in the summer sun

And the waves crash

The man in the harbor fishes

Unknown to the world

At peace with life

He has not a complaint

Not even of the smell of rotten fish

From the marina near by

He fishes on

Trying to catch the one that won’t get away

Robert Lloyd

withered

2010-08-25T12:16:00.000-05:00

withered

                                                               once was beautiful
                                                               once was loved
                                                               the spinning so grand
                                                               the ache so right
                                                               no questions
                                                               no obstacles
                                                               passions easily declared
                                                               priorities denied

                                                               worlds clash
                                                               wills subside
                                                               sunny days are broken by shadows
                                                               silver spoons slip into the disposal
                                                               roses fade and wither
                                                               reality takes hold
                                                               dousing the roaring flames
                                                               dried tears stain our cheeks

                                                               only if the past were present
                                                               only if the future could be seen
                                                               the chance missed
                                                               the moment passed
                                                               the ignorant forgiven
                                                               no regret held
                                                               no bitterness felt
                                                               passions no longer carried out
                                                               priorities are realized

                                                                                      Robert Lloyd
                                                                                      4 December 1995

I found some of my older writings and enjoyed this one. I figured I would share it. So now it moves from yellowed paper to forever print.

Foreign Land

2010-08-12T11:56:00.000-05:00

Foreign Land

The scratch of the dry dusty earth

on my bare calloused feet

almost made me break

Rust on the rough iron bars

that attempt to wrestle away my soul

bloody my hands

Screams from a place so close and

yet too far for me to comfort

spin one cruel mind fuck

Alone

in a cool cast shadow

I sit

thinking of

my life on you tube

ending

My thirst for god cause

my prayers to speed

beyond recognition in my head

I am comforted about the end

because I know

I was righteous

Robert Lloyd

12 August 2010

The photograph used for this poem was taken by Christopher Sacry.

Hide N Seek

2010-08-06T14:43:00.000-05:00

Hide N Seek

I lie here
Surrounded by the thrum of summer
The yellow waves of a vast sea sway around me
Grass taller than my imagination
I can smell the earth
It is mingled with soil and fading wildflowers
I pray the birds do not give me away
I am ever so still
Holding my breath
The distance shares the laughter of my sister
As it dances closer amongst the sound of the creek
The crack and thump of her footfalls flutter my stomach
Teasing me, telling me
To Rise, to run
But the haze of comfort
Weighs heavy on me
And as my cloud thickens
With the warm sun in my eyes
I hear her murmur
                                                                    Just before sleep takes me
                                                                    Come out Come out
                                                                    Wherever you are

                                                                                              Robert Lloyd
                                                                                              6 August 2010

Childhood was a wonderful thing wasn't it?

Grandmother Told Me

2010-08-05T15:13:00.000-05:00

Grandmother Told Me

Remorse crawled through my mind today

Thoughts like dry vines spread through our memories

I could hear the crack of the leaves as they fanned out

Searching for my missing laughter

These days my head usually does not yield anything

Save for bits of dirt and old heart

Where water once ran you can only smell rust

A cloud passed shading my forgetfulness

Awakening me, plunging me into sadness

I knew now who I was

I screamed for the sun to come out

Wanting to be bathed in a world of not knowing better

These summer storms torture me

I prefer the dry abandoned garden

I want a desert life or please drown my sorrows
Not this cruel in between
Please…Don’t wake me again until I’m dead
Why are you in my room?

Robert Lloyd
5 August 2010

Written for Magpie Tales - Prompt #26

The story behind this set of prose unraveled in my head as I stared at the photo. Why the idea of Alzheimer’s or dementia popped in my head I cannot explain. I have never been around it or experienced it and do not envy those who do. I just know were it me suffering this horrible fate, I would never want to be granted a moment of reality. I would most likely hate myself the moment I knew who I was. But that is just me and my own opinion. My prayers and thoughts go out to all those who must deal with the realities of this in their lives.

Spare Time

2010-07-24T11:48:00.000-05:00

Spare Time

I wish I could recycle my littered minutes
Not the ones wasted on day dreaming
Those are well spent
I want the ones that slip by unnoticed

Can you see the corporation
Hired men like highway cleanup crews
Follow behind
During the day
Unnoticed
As a minute slips by truly wasted
They stab it with their sticks
As if it were a piece of trash
Blowing down the road

Eventually
You are presented with a monthly fee
A percentage price
For a substantial block of time
Of life gone by

You empty your wallet
In exchange for a box of
Recycled minutes

Imagine life
Imagine what you could do with these minutes

Do I extend a great evening
on the town
Or give to doctors
Who could have used just a second more

Do I share
Giving a soldier that extra chance
Does some of it go into the offering plate
Can I last longer in the sack
The possibilities would be endless

I wish I could recycle my littered minutes
Not the ones just wasted
On this day dream
Those are well spent
I want the ones that slip by unnoticed

Robert Lloyd
24 July 2010

I woke up this morning with this idea running through my head and figured I should write it down. I know the concept can have many negative twists but I refused to go that route. I wanted to only be an optimist blind to the abuse of this idea. There is so much we can do if we just had more time.

an angel lies to her forsaken

2010-07-11T14:54:00.000-05:00

an angel lies to her forsaken

Bruised and battered

My soul

Lies slumped upon the floor

How many times

Can you shock it back to life?

She soothes my heart

With soft well placed words

Her whisper in my ear is perfect

She attempts to rekindle my flame

She works to save me

But I catch her

When she thinks I’m not looking

Wings folded

Cursing at the same place

That just spits upon me

She wipes a tear

Turns and smiles in my direction

It will be ok she says

She lies for me

And maybe for herself

Robert Lloyd
11 July 2010

I Am Me Because of Me Because of Her

2010-07-04T14:04:00.001-05:00

I Am Me Because of Me Because of Her

(Let the Right One In)

how can she know me

when I am never myself

I change for my world

and my world

is always changing

she knows the me now

that was a few times before

a person I wanted to be

so I’m trying again

but in being that person

I may have lost who I am

and if that is the case

at least I’m not who I was

because then

she wouldn’t get close enough

to show me who I can be

I am me because of me

because of her

Robert Lloyd

This was written for Sunday Scribblings

Prompt #222 - Me

Its funny how the people in your lives make you who you are. No matter how much you act like they don't. Curse that woman I tell ya!!

Hagerstown

2010-06-24T10:28:00.001-05:00

Hagerstown

My yesterday, today and tomorrow

A season that is always anticipated and never dismissed
Not my love, but a lifeline
A someone who forgives and never forgets

I stumble, fall, and run hard
Then the next crash
My battery dies
The seamstress works

A weaver of life
She judges not a thing
My heart is known
The next mistake is praised before the crumble

No judgment is cast
Only hugs and warm welcomes
I cry and she wipes away the tears
Why does she remain?

I offer nothing similar in return
Still, she smiles when I say hello
A one sided bargain I grow to expect
I fear the day there is no echo

My tequila sunrise shows me I was stupid
But every second till then she chants go
My rainbows are unseen
She knows they are there, somewhere

Slowly I learn to cherish those words
Expect them
Crave the understanding
Anticipate shelter from my caused storms

Silent for years
Say hello and today is right next to yesterday
No matter how far I fell between
That is the comfort

I may never repay the heart
It’s not expected
Still she says, "how have you been?"
Nothing less will ever happen

By Robert Lloyd
(23 June 2010)

This poem is a simple one about friendship. It's about an old friend, thousands of miles away, seen only every few years but who is always there, no matter what. I am amazed by her and the fact we are still friends, no thanks to my efforts. She has been the glue of our friendship. No matter how long I vanish chasing my own dreams, I still can find her living her life and smiling when I stumble back into her world. This is my thank you written for her. She is my family.

Prison Walls & Yard Time

2010-06-22T17:15:00.000-05:00

Prison Walls & Yard Time

he screams at how lonely he is
no one wants to hear him
to feel his pain
although his treatment is fair and just
it was his turn
he had to
it couldn’t be avoided

pacing wildly back and forth
spewing indignations
eyeing any person that nears
he stands praying for acknowledgement
a chance to prove he is not a beast
he wants someone to yell at
to deem a savior

he should be happy for this time
any prisoner would beg for it
no matter his crimes
he is fed twice a day
is allowed sleep
yet he still faults us all
he stands there screaming about our cruelty

finally his curses end
no longer does he despise us on our watch
he forgives us our responsibility
is it that easy to forget?
this happens every day
he realizes this is his life
he quiets and succumbs to it

That’s when we let the dog back inside

By Robert Lloyd
22 June 2010

I could not post a photo for this one because I felt it would have given away the end. I also cannot lie my dog is still outside crying about the fact that he had to be outside for a half hour while I wrote this instead of him being inside with me in the air conditioning. He is spoiled brat. When we go to the beach he gets, alergy meds, bug spray and sun block (he is a white boxer) and I get sunburned because I forget to take care of myself. Thanks for the inspiration you mutt.

Vacant Tomorrows

2010-06-20T15:43:00.001-05:00

Vacant Tomorrows

Lips soft and perfect

But mind unfinished

He is me a few years yesterday

Young with lust and ignorant to love

Fickle souls don’t realize what's come and gone

At least not till it’s too late

He stands to hold my regret soon

This is not a vengeful hope, just our reality

Warriors of the rainbow fight so many battles

Keeping love is just one casualty

He is a young cub to the pride

Wounding others is obvious commonplace

There is not a tutor for matters of a gay heart

Fleeting memories will teach that lesson

He is meant to stumble, fall and rise again

He is me yesterday and I his vacant tomorrow

By Robert Lloyd

June 20, 2010

They say that writing from another’s view is great tool in making one a better writer. I don’t know if that is fact but I did try it here. I have a friend who is a young gay man. He asked me to write about love lost from his perspective, a challenge if you will. I’ve done it from old and young alike, woman and man so why not a gay male. He recently had possibly “The One” get away and all he could get out of it is that he was the same way a few years back. He was the guy who had so much to explore and had too much going for him to be concerned with something as paltry as another’s heart. It seems as though that may be rite of passage for confident gay man and hindsight is something you are rewarded with once it’s too late. So this is my take on it from his perspective. Thank you for the prompt.

I found the photo for this prompt Byron Beck's Window it was taken by Devon Rhodes.

Laughter Revolution

2010-06-16T22:10:00.000-05:00

Laughter Revolution

We need new hippies
Another generation to enjoy the now
A people that pull rainbows from the dull cities
Flowers in the rifle barrels part two
Society should be looking beyond tabloids and our own dead ends
When we sweat, yank the clothes from our bodies and teach us to dance in the gritty acid rains

Our neighbors should take their last dollars and use it on instant smiles
It’s a time for the poets and songwriters to quicken the pulse of the world
To show us there is more to life than cable boxes and the latest tickle me Elmo
We should smile more often and wander the streets like gypsies
Camp out on the sidewalks sucking in the yellow rays of sunlight and laughter

We need to open borders and close-minded fools
Allow the daring to run to the top of any mountain they choose
And while there let them scream from the top of their lungs
Holler every verse of Dylan’s Do Not Go Gentle

Families should learn to not despise who our children are
They need to embrace them
Empty their pockets till they have every crayon possible, even periwinkle

Extract the dreams from the dulling eyes and witness them happen
Let us all be spent by one another’s exhausting joy

We need to relish today so that tomorrow they know it is what they will do

Robert Lloyd (16/June/2010)

Souless Soldiers?

2010-06-12T15:22:00.001-05:00

Souless Soldiers?

Crash the gates and

run for freedom; it
drives me mad to see
I work for the unseen,
a servant for the
dammed or an uppity
divine one. I know,
curse my foul tongue.
If that were so,
therein would lie truth,
proof for my burden.
Yet none are teased
with a tender morsel,
a slight flavor of purpose;
just fake faith, bought beliefs
and ignorant influences. My
how naive, how ironic to
see that we cannot see
but still we hope and walk on
marching blindly as soulless
soldiers of obscurity.

By Robert Lloyd
(13/July/1998)

I wrote this a long time ago while in my pursuit of God, religion and anything that would give me purpose. I am in a different place now but found it interesting to reflect on who I was 12 plus years ago. This is why I enjoy writing so much it shows me so much more than a simple photograph.

As You Gently Fade Away

2010-06-09T16:10:00.000-05:00

As You Gently Fade Away

You cringe at thought of his heart breaking in front of you

Pushing him far enough away to not hear him flat line

You are the cocaine he needs to quit

Slowly weaning him from your romance and sex

Sorry I have been just so busy lately

Timing your delayed response

No there’s nothing wrong

Slow to find your phone

That’s odd I never got that text

He never realizes you left him a long time ago

When he does, you won’t feel the burn

Maybe he won’t either

By Robert Lloyd (9/June/2010)

Well this was a poem that was inspired by some overheard advice involving unnamed folks. The conversation was on how to breakup with a person without dealing with all the drama. A simple lesson and as a guy with a shady past I know the practice all too well. The lets just slowly drift apart so I can avoid the bother to me because I really don’t care how you feel. Yep been there, done that. The I make you break up with me so I don't have to do it routine. In the defense of others though, sometimes this is the better of two evils. Now I wonder, is it easier just to end it or does this really work? I guess those that practice it are never around to see the result. Either way I am glad I do not have to participate in that part of life anymore. But I still can write about it...

As the Down Thickens

2010-06-07T14:45:00.000-05:00

As the Down Thickens

As the down thickens

My heart sinks

We drown in sludge rainbows

The black of sin covers us all

Though ours will wash away as quickly as we can change the channel

Others will swallow it down as death

Soothsayers, Spin Doctors and Sideshow Bob all fumble with an end

Yet poisonous fingers stretch greedily for more blue water

Echoes of next time are shouted on the slim screen wall box
Received in places where no clumped saltwater will ever touch
Never mind the pillows of snow white cousins upon our beds
We remorse before the next new thing divides our attention
Black gold is now liquid death in high definition

As tears spill onto our unwashable hands
We watch the feathers bind and flight stop
Our souls ache
And we do nothing

The black of sin covers us all
We drown in sludge rainbows
My heart sinks
As the down thickens

By Robert Lloyd (7 June 2010)

I was too immature to realize the impact of the Exxon Valdez oil spill in 1989. Having just graduated high school I had the world to conquer and paid it no mind. Now I’m an aware individual in my 30's and seeing the oil spill in the gulf makes me feel ashamed. I know I had nothing to do with, but I still feel so guilty. The images that are flying onto our screens from the Gulf are heartbreaking. I’m not a PETA person, nor have I been a great huge animal activist of any sort but I can’t help but nearly tear up at the thought of the animals and people affected by this. I am crushed by the fact that I can’t do anything about it and by the thought that most folks don’t pay it any mind. It’s a glance on TV for them. In this day and age “Out of sight, Out of mind” rings true for many folks. Yet still I can’t blame them because I was the same way till about 2 or 3 years back. So enough rambling, this is some of my feelings on the oils spill in poetry. I hope it makes the people who read it think.

Constipated Scribe

2010-06-05T14:38:00.000-05:00

I was battling a severe case of writer’s block for this one. I sat there wanting to write something, needing to write something. It was almost like holding a cigarette and not having a lighter around for miles. What you want is teasing you and tearing at you. You have everything except for one small piece. But that small item is what stops everything. With no lighter or matches you can have all the cigarettes you ever dream of but no way to enjoy them. You start getting creative, wondering “Will the toaster work, how about the iron?” Your frustration mounts and still nothing, you have no release. This is my forced outcome, my forced release. I figure take what owns you and conquer it. So I took my writer’s block and wrote about it. What you going to do now writer’s block?

Intoxicating

2010-06-02T11:14:00.000-05:00

Intoxicating

She is that first sip
That dangerous and unsure one
I drink in her beauty
Wondering if I should swallow any more of the allure

She is the next sip
No, a large swallow
I love how unbalanced she stumbles me
I am lost in her smile

She is the Glass
The second and third round and I still want more of her
Have to have her
To stare into those eyes

She is the bottle
Seduction, Smokey, Sweet
My want is for her
Her desire controls me

She is my vineyard
Her world is mine twining through my drunken laughter
I must taste more of her always
I can’t stop or I will forever bear the hangover

Robert Lloyd (2 June 2010)

I wrote this one with the one simple thought in mind, desire. It simply amazes me how another person can make you (even unintentionally)lose sight of your own world. Call it love, passion even addiction, whatever name you put on it (in my case her) you cant control yourself. You get so wrapped up in that person or thing that when they vanish or its gone, the void after the fact is such a horrid feeling. Its a long night of drinking only to be dead weight the next morning in the absence alcohol. Or in simpler terms to lose a person you invested so much with just rips the heart right of your chest. So in order to avoid you just give, give, give.

The Dog Park

2010-05-26T15:56:00.000-05:00

The Dog Park

We’ve locked eyes before

Each day I am led by four paws past his hideaway

The sun rises by him each morning

He is my coffee

My first smile of the day

A chance at more always drifts away with my hesitation

Every so often I am just a mere few feet from those curious stares

All I muster is a good boy and a flirting glance

My best quality is a sad one

I bring a bag and don’t leave my poop

By Robert Lloyd ( 26 May, 2010)

This came about in an odd way. I was discussing with a friend a need to have hobbies to distract her from the wrecked dating world that was her life. I told her she should write as it was a great release for me. We back and forthed (can I do that? lol) on how simple it was to write and I told her if I could do something in three minutes so could she. Somehow the concept of a dog park came up and then I wrote this quickly for her to prove my point. It was meant to be silly and inspiring to her. It actually was something I enjoyed and found worth putting on here. I envisioned a cute girl always seeing a cute guy but never having the guts to say hey. I know its very cliche and movie like but oh well I like it and you have already read it.

Paranoid Heart

2010-05-25T10:52:00.000-05:00

Paranoid Heart

The cracks are so small
At least they were small
Now I see them stretching
Branching out in too many directions to focus

Is my vision and affection exaggerating their spread
No longer can they be kept at arm’s length
I am trying to keep up with my Elmer’s glue
A flower plugged here, a smile there, even a lie just to make it all ok

I watch our surface splinter and wonder
Is it a layered love
Or will we fall right through to a separate end
Damn my paranoid heart

By Robert Lloyd

(May 2010)

Everyone panics is the point of this one. Some have severe jealousy issues and some just think the wrong things. Me, well I imagine that if it is this good something will go wrong. A pessimistic poet now thats irony huh? Anyways this is about bickering really. My misses has always said she hates the thoughtful me (especially after drinking) because it usually leads to the dark places. This was one of those times. I know its just a little fight but what if...CRACK!!

The Egotistical Synapse That Fires Redirected

2010-05-24T12:57:00.000-05:00

The Egotistical Synapse That Fires Redirected

(my troubled thoughts)

When a stranger cries it is because of me
My ego thinks so
I stumble blindly through existence
Always lugging these curious thoughts along

I think to myself and not to others
So I am all that matters
If it were meant to be any different, someone would be in here with me

Someone would then burn away the thoughts that darken my soul

The soft side looks out through holes and sees a world I can shape

The world that I have not created
When I grimace and feel, it is because I have decided to
Not because it was already

I pull away when she threatens my imagined control
Why show me the fool
I only see it when I want to because I want to
Me, me, me

My head is waves of color drowning in shadows of the unknown
The crayon is in my hands to color life
Yet with good intent they sometimes take it away
In doing so they plunge me deeper into myself

By Robert Lloyd (May 2010)

This Moment

2010-05-12T14:34:00.000-05:00

This Moment

Escape
I push to forget
My Stomach pains for something
Anything

The void is undesirable
I would give up correct just to cancel the ache
Damn the knowledge that will propel me to tomorrow and comfort
Damn me for knowing it’s wrong to ignore right

Yesterday I would so easily embrace
Today, without hesitation, I would quickly skip
Tomorrow I will review my ignorance

Bile could be replaced by laughter
My longing may vanish
But what of my now?

I struggle with here
Tick tock
And here
Tick tock
And here
Tick Tock
And here

Escape
I push to forget
Yet my Stomach pains for something
Anything


                                    By Robert Lloyd
                                    (May 12, 2010)

Just for Kicks

2010-04-19T14:50:00.000-05:00

Just for kicks

The hot sun beats down upon me
      The asphalt melts my sole
My tongue hangs out with thirst
      I ponder where she has gone
We were once a nice pair
      And now nothing seems to have gone our way
I lay here staring up at ones who have reached out and touched the sky
      Exhaust fumes are now my only companion
Soon the orange clad beast will stumble along and stab me
      My misery silenced as I am forced to my final resting place

                                                                   By Robert Lloyd
                                                                   April 2009

I wrote this one because, oddly enough, it was bothering me for a few days why a shoe would be all by itself on the side of the road. I know I'm old enough to have seen it hundreds of times but the last time just really stuck in my head causing so many questions. Why just one shoe? Where is the other shoe? Then I started thinking about the shoes on the telephone wires. If shoes had feelings would the ones on the ground be jealous of the ones on the wire? That was my silly inspiration for this poem and I finaly took the time to write it down. I know the "Just for Kicks" is a little over the top and Punny title but oh well the whole poem is a little odd.

Head In The Clouds

2010-04-16T10:00:00.000-05:00

Head in the Clouds
(Writers Block)

I need heartache for my pen to work
My scribble fades in the presence of happiness
Some need to be broken to create

Here I sit with a blank mind and dumb smile
Struggling to capture a moment
Realizing I want to live it, not write about it

So since I’m Happy
Since I can’t seem to mold my words
You tell me how this should end

By Robert Lloyd (16 April, 2010)

My Finest Hour

2010-03-28T13:37:00.000-05:00

My Finest Hour

(The Barnett Effect)

Stones way heavy where I should only hunger
The fog whispers in my mind of my misdeeds
Each week I stand renewed with guilt
After an hour's worth of right, I set off with lofty ideals
I envision and I intend a better way

I am ready to make new
Ready to be unselfish
Ready to…
Ready…
Ready to be misled
Ready to forget

I begin my blunder
Stacking the stones whose weight I will not realize till Sunday
The fog drifts onto the road newly repaved
I can’t see my steps
After 167 hours of wrong I will return
The light switch of understanding will flip on once again
I envision and I intend a better way

By Robert Lloyd (28 March, 2010)

The Park Bench

2010-03-23T20:09:00.000-05:00

The Park Bench

                                                     I fed the fat birds
                                                     While stepping in some ones gum
                                                     Then sat wondering why?

                                                                                                       Robert Lloyd (March 2010)

Born Abroad

2010-03-17T13:54:00.000-05:00

Born Abroad
"Heilbronn, Germany"

I’ve never seen the Rhine or smelled the Black Forrest
But the snow ball fights I had there were amazing
So the pictures show

I can’t remember Germany
And that’s because I’ve never been
I was only born there

Other than passport troubles, my beginning has no claim
Those were the days of my youth I’m told
And to think, I’m amazed if I can remember some of High School

My Oma loved me
Enjoyed holding me when I was a toddler
I was sad when she died, before I ever met her

Packages came showering me with things I would miss from home
All the wonderful things I have yet to see
The Chocolate coins and Liqueur filled candies were my favorite

Eight Aunts and Uncles, all so proud of me
My how I have grown into a man they echo through my mother
I do not know them, never seen them

I reflect on the past that I have not lived
It seems great in those faded photos
One day I hope to return and visit the place I’ve never been

By Robert Lloyd (17 Mar 2010)

She Pushed Me and She Wasn't Even There

2010-03-17T12:44:00.000-05:00

She Pushed Me and She Wasn’t Even There
(An Extraordinary Friend)

Alone standing on the edge I stared down at the clear blue water below
I watched with envy as those I knew splashed about
Desire filled my heart but fear kept me from jumping

I have attempted vaulting in amongst those that are carefree many times
Sometimes it’s a brazen run to the cliff’s edge just to stop short
Others, it’s a close my eyes and imagine I took a blind leap, arms flailing, into the abyss
Unscrunching my eyes in dismay, I found I was still standing there, dry

As of late she stood by me adjusting my floaties on my arms
I, an adult four year old afraid to take the jump and swim
The unknown is scary thing no matter your age, so still I resisted

She has even walked with me to a lower cliff
Never forcing, she hoped that I can see that it’s not impossible
Every so often she herself leapt into the clear blue lagoon to show me it’s ok
Only to climb all the way back up and again stand next to me

On occasion she cannot tend to my constant childlike “whys”
So every so often I stood on the edge once again alone
I closed my eyes and heard her soothing words and knew I was not really by myself

I had no reason to go swimming
No reason to stand on the edge admiring the water down below
But I swear she pushed me and she wasn’t even there

Now I am floating here, eyes closed, body drenched, arms out, smiling
She adjusted those rubber duckies just right on my arms
And the girl was right they do hold me up

I’m not drowning
But I’m not swimming
I am floating amongst friends who are willing to wait while I doggie paddle in the deep parts

By Robert Lloyd (19 April 2009)

The Player

2010-03-14T17:01:00.000-05:00

The Player

To live and dance upon the earth
To thrive on hearts since my birth
Emotions and feeling are what I dare
Some people think my games unfair

My Tease, my suave, my charm and lies
How low I will sink should be no surprise
                                                          To get what I want I will perform
                                                          All for some cozy company during a winter storm

                                                           I have no worries, no regret
                                                           Those who ache will eventually forget
                                                           I love power and total control
                                                          My cares, I have none, possibly not even a soul

                                                           All is done to feed my mood
                                                           No matter the beauty over which I brood
                                                           If you sulk and cry I may lend an ear
                                                           For later you may say what I truly wish to hear

                                                           Beware and look out for I’m always around
                                                           I like to take advantage of those that are lost or a little down
                                                           To cheer up and boost their meager pride
                                                           But my true goal I can easily hide

                                                           My desire for what you possess
                                                           This will put my wits to a true test


                                                                                                                 Robert Lloyd 1997

Incarnation

2010-03-13T17:27:00.000-06:00

Incarnation

Unbridled passion that paves way
      To a regretted past

Pleasures of a moment
      However it doesn’t last
To forget would be so easy
      To ignore so male
Such a ravaged and overrun tale

No longer am I to quench my individual hunger pangs
For now the spawn of lust now bears its fangs

                                    By Robert Lloyd 97

Happy Hour and Cigarette Smoke

2009-12-21T10:23:00.000-06:00

Happy Hour and Cigarette Smoke

It’s late by man’s clocks

Yet people mill around in flocks
There he stands with cigarettes in a flip top box
With a watered down scotch on the rocks

Darkness falls throughout the blocks

Some will soon be in detox

Others fumble with keys to place in moving locks

He is led astray by passion, so typical of males and their cocks

A silent rendezvous with soft knocks

His coat strewn on the floor next to a strange woman’s frock

Passed out on the bed only wearing one sock

Dreaming of days filled with cheerleaders and him the jock

Energy expended, but still sly as a fox

The next day he’ll swallow aspirin and take stock
Preparing for a new evening, he’ll have bourbon on the rocks

Eyeing the new crowd milling in flocks

Ready, yet again for another chance at chastity’s locks

By Robert Lloyd

Losing Gaea

2009-12-19T18:41:00.000-06:00

Losing Gaea

Listen…
I can hear the mother crying
Some think its maturity beckoning
Her wisdom is lost
The tears she sheds grow less with each instance of disregard

Why care when her warnings fall on deaf ears
As she ages, dries and wrinkles
Her clutch drive on foolishly
Not stopping
                                                         Not caring

                                                         There are some who realize and try to return some favor
                                                         They are quickly overrun by the masses
                                                         Those few lie on their backs trampled by the selfish
                                                         Weeping for the one woman that gave them life
                                                         So now, forsaken, she may speak no more

                                                         Silenced and no longer growing
                                                         Her health is failing
                                                         With her health may go our future
                                                         One we so blindly and recklessly chase

                                                                                                              By Robert Lloyd

Silent Guardian

2009-12-18T15:48:00.000-06:00

Silent Gaurdian

Candlelight bouncing madly upon the walls
Miles quietly wailing in the night
And you
Motionless on the couch
Lost in the large world of sleep
All this I watch
Inches from my touch
Ready to pounce upon anything
Anything that may try to steal my sight away
Claws sharpened
Heart racing
Studying the motion of the night
No one shall disturb my charge
I sit quietly watching beauty age

By Robert Lloyd

Davis After Light

2009-12-16T13:58:00.000-06:00

Davis After light

Listen to the bark and caterwaul of the horn
A simple and complicated description of life
Each moment we have survived can be painted through his notes
Long and drawn
Quick and Sharp

Miles said it best when he blew the tunes
None can mimic the joy and pain of the heart as perfect as he

Our evenings can close no better than our eyes slipping shut
                                                      All the while envisioning his deeply flavored music

                                                      My what beauty heard
                                                      What beauty seen
                                                    And definitely what beauty lived

                                                                                             By Robert Lloyd

Watching Ansel

2009-12-12T12:37:00.000-06:00

Watching Ansel

I like this…
The way the wind makes your heart race
Barefoot, dangling in the sea
The part of life that’s not wrong

It’s a treasure to step out and rest
To ignore our self-created difficulties

Man in gaining intelligence has lost peace
The foot race to tomorrow is complicated
Too much for the likes of us

Simple people
We need music, food, the ability to stop and watch
Nothing more

I like viewing the ripple of water travel across the once calm pool
I like to watch as it once again quiets

If I could get lost in Ansel Adams…
I’d be there forever
Watching those looking in
Trying to see where it is that they missed peace
And living every moment

By Robert Lloyd
©Persona 2002 Press Corps, Inc

Craving Autumn in the North East

2009-12-11T15:44:00.000-06:00

Craving Autumn in the North East

A Chill
The cold you welcome

The bitter bite of a cool breeze
You know it's coming
Old Man Winter

Every hue imagined is lying about
All originating from the now barren trees

Memories, all of them so pleasant
A time when...
A time when I smiled

Now just a taste drives me mad
A familiar wet smell
A breeze that strikes me just right

Instantly I am again walking on the quaint streets of a Maryland town

But only briefly
For I awaken
Sweating
With no need for my thick wool coat

By Robert Lloyd

Only A Few

2009-12-11T15:24:00.000-06:00

ONLY A FEW

“Another Round for Fred”

His heart was full of lead
Only a few drinks he said
As the car sped

The light was bright red
All the children fled
Screams and tears were shed
For one lie dead

His name was Fred
He tried to run they said
But he struck his head
And all watched, helpless as he bled

The driver was filled with dread
What a life he had led
On drunken fear he was fed
And on others he had tread
What happened? He said

His heart was full of lead
Only a few drinks he said
As the car sped

Robert Lloyd
(Jan 95)

Raped Skeptic

2009-12-11T14:00:00.000-06:00

Raped Skeptic

I am a container

Of unbelief

Yet I saw my heart stop

Someone claimed to be knowledge

The laughter is mine

But only for a loud moment

When all went shush

I focused

Blinked unbelieving

My life was tossed before me

By one unknown

Jealousy and then envy flooded my soul

Someone saw my existence

Past, present, possibly future

All was told

And all I could do was lie exposed

Robert Lloyd
(April 99)

A Poem

2009-12-11T11:34:00.000-06:00

A Poem

A true poem does not have to involve a rhyme
Just a little play with words and time
A poem is just a thought placed on display
To mold and shape like a sculptor’s clay

Those who read and understand
Know poems, like life, are never bland
A poem can intrigue or complicate
It can even place a romantic twist on fate

A poem is there for those that are pleasurable and kind
Even for the mad like Poe, who lost his mind
It is there for the sad and depressed
A poem can be relief for those who are overstressed

A poem can describe a somber rainy day
Or a glorious sunrise in early may
It can recapture a fading memory
A poem can share a dream that will never be

A poem is something that anyone can appreciate
For in the mind it opens a little gate
A passageway to all that can possibly be
All it takes is you and little creativity

By Robert Lloyd (Jan 95)

A Simple Thought

2009-12-11T11:04:00.000-06:00

                        A Simple Thought

                Burning kisses
                Fall to earth
                Struck down by love
                My heaven is discovered
                Your embrace

                                        By Robert Lloyd

At Day's End

2009-12-10T15:31:00.000-06:00

At Day’s End

The spirits have awakened
The sun has set
I lie quietly allowing the day to forget

Our youth, your beauty
Life’s simple treasure
All vital for a heart and soul’s pleasure

Shadows dancing peacefully upon the wall
Listening to the new days that cautiously call
Sleep has yet to capture my eyes
For we battle with tired’s compromise

Live a little and also take
Now is one less breath that we must make
A day races by eventually two
All precious moments spent with you

We are growing old yet I don’t care
So long as every beat I possess
You are there

Slipping off quietly to bed
Next to you I place my head
Smiling and content we shall lay
For tomorrow is yet another day

By Robert Lloyd

As I pull scribblings from the past some of them instantly spring to life crystal clear memories of what I was doing, who I was with and how life was going for me. Then there are times I look into my foggy mind and wonder what prompted me write this. This is one of those times. This had no date and I have no idea if I was dreaming of possibilities or inspired by someone. Either way the fact that I wrote anything at all makes me smile.

Mixed Emotions

2009-12-09T21:07:00.000-06:00

Mixed Emotions

Happiness, sadness
Cruelty, madness
A wicked thought of love
Acid rain from above
Poison ivy, black rose
Sensual and provocative clothes
Creativeness, poetry, passion
Calmness, stability, action
The grimace of deception
And joy of conception
The betrayal of a man’s heart
Or the envy of a good start

Robert Lloyd (Aug 94)

About The Author

2009-12-09T20:47:00.000-06:00

Robert Lloyd

Robert Lloyd is vagabond and adventurist. He is truly a jack of all trades and a master of none. He’s done a little of everything from serving ten years in the military while working in human and animal medicine, to having attended five different colleges and universities. He is now working as a cost analyst for an environmental engineering firm while living in San Antonio Texas. He is a true example of the restless generation that came of age in the 90’s. Born in 1974 in Germany to a Puerto Rican father and a German mother, he has traveled the globe far and wide and has only managed to call Texas home because that is where he has been the longest. The one thing that he has as a constant in his life is his friends and his joy of writing. He is a scribbler by heart and has always turned to words to better express himself. Robert doesn’t look for fame or accomplishment he is just a free spirit that loves sharing his thoughts with others. No matter that those thoughts may not be the best or that they don’t fit into some sort of rule. Robert writes for pleasure and personal release, should anyone cling to his words along the way then he is all the more blessed.

Poem List

2009-12-09T19:21:00.001-06:00

A Poem
A Simple Thought
At Day's End
Born Abroad
Craving Autumn in the North East
Davis After Light
Happy Hour and Cigarette Smoke
Head in the Clouds
Incarnation
Losing Gaea
Mixed Emotions
My Finest Hour
Only A few
Raped Skeptic
She Pushed Me and She Wasn't Even There
Silent Guardian
The Player
The Park Bench
Watching Ansel