I love writing. Writing excites me, moves me, fulfills me. It’s my passion and my purpose.
If you love reading, I hope you’ll find something worthy here. As Ben Franklin said in Poor Richard’s Almanac:
“If you would not be forgotten
As soon as you are dead and rotten
Either write things worth reading
Or do things worth the writing.”
I write because I love writing. And I write so people might cry at my funeral.
P.S. If you love my writing, please consider buying one or more of my books, writing a review, and reaching out and letting me know. Thanks a million.
Steve Robison on Amazon.com »
June 11, 2017 12:11 pm EDT
I feel unresolved. And I seek resolution.
I feel unfinished. And I seek a smooth finish.
I feel unloved. And I seek love.
I feel unworthy. And I seek the peace of wholeness.
I feel imperfect. And I seek the glory of divinity.
And that’s enough.
I am,... Read More »
June 3, 2017 10:35 am EDT
My heart skips a beat
When she enters the crowded ballroom
She is the center of not only my attention
But of the attention of fully half the room
As many turn their heads unapologetically
As some sneak wary glances
Not wanting, presumably,
To arouse suspicion, to color
Their companions green
My mind quickly meanders
Inventing possible scenarios
Rehearsing my first words
Your first responses
Will they be memorable?
Do I stand half a chance
Of capturing your attention
In subtle competition
With a grand room of onlookers?
My courage falters
As I come quickly to my senses
Grab not one, but two flutes
From the passing waitress
I gulp one greedily, place the glass on her tray
Just... Read More »
Type: Free Write
May 27, 2017 10:08 am EDT
I built a great tower, looming over the landscape. I found my place in its highest rooms. For a time, it was, for me, just right.
But the foundation was not sure.
When the tower began to topple, I considered diving from its heights. I considered falling with it, remaining stubbornly where I was.
A moment of grace intervened. I escaped the tower, found a place in a humble... Read More »
May 7, 2017 10:15 am EDT
I weep for you, my precious child,
To see you in such pain;
My angels play their songs for you,
To heal in sweet refrain.
With every newfound sorrow,
You pluck up from the way,
I loose a shining, drenching tear
Unto the rainy day.
I beg you hear my calling,
And not delay your stand;
Your place among me waits,
An heir... Read More »