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Steve Robison

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.

Steve

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 »


God Smiled

Type: Poem

July 1, 2017 9:50 am EDT

He found the fount and sipped from its cool waters and
A majesty woke deep inside an expanding... Read More »


What are the ingredients of innovation?

Type: Blog Post

June 30, 2017 4:44 pm EDT

Innovation is solving problems and creating betterments in new and unique ways. Innovation is modifying our beliefs about how this ought be done so that we might forge new pathways of thought, invent new dimensions of approach.

Innovation is form, function, reality, imagination. Innovation is collaboration, noodling, navel-gazing, and actual action.

We choose to allow time to breathe, to listen, to observe, to wander, to think, and when the muse speaks, when Innovation speaks, we listen, take note, choose to act, and then ACT, with little need for validation, deliberation--and zero need for hesitation.

Actual action in the actual direction of vision and goals creates actual and concrete results. There is a time to think and a time to... Read More »

I feel

Type: Poem

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.

I am.
And that’s enough.
I am,... Read More »


Green

Type: Poem

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 »