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.


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 »

Simple Tears

Type: Poem

May 1, 2021 1:41 pm EDT

I am a man who cries.
If you think that makes me weak,
You’re wrong.
If you want to judge me as
Somehow less than I ought be,
Well, go right ahead,
And as they say these days,
Have fun with that.
Honestly, I feel sorry for you,
If, man or woman,
You are afraid to own your feelings
And feel the fullness…
Of the sadness,
And the cracked gravity of grief
The brilliant fucking terror—
Utter and complete—
Of fucking bewilderment.
Some days, I have no clue…
How to thrive;
I am grateful
To sit alone in my dark closet
And cry the... Read More »

Lifespan of Loss

Type: Fiction

April 29, 2021 5:57 am EDT

There once was a man and that man lost fifty coins in a business deal and was understandably disappointed. In a few days, he forgave himself, both the loss of coin and of his mind, and got back to the business of life, earning his keep. A few weeks later, he lost two hundred coins, and was understandably disappointed. As before, he forgave himself and got back to business and life. He knew it was not good to dwell on past losses. Again, a few weeks later, he had a loss, this time ten coins. He was understandably disappointed.

The man called on the wise sage, posing the question of why his feelings seemed the same with regard to all... Read More »


Type: Poem

April 8, 2021 10:55 pm EDT

i have known
from my most virginal thoughts
of my unworthiness
but for a time
i forgot

for a time
i let myself believe
i was trustworthy
i was lovable
i was good

life got better

but deep within
under all the images
beneath the pretense
where only the soul exists
i knew
i was wholly unworthy
and so
the darkness created influence
and i pushed all the good far away
with finesse, with subtlety

i betrayed her trust
by being willing to trust
neither her nor me

and the good... Read More »


Type: Poem

April 8, 2021 10:10 pm EDT

He writhes in his wilted sadness
Sullen in rotting thoughts
A relapse of vision
Where hope turns brown
Falls from the ancient giants
And all that remains
Rotting on the forest floor
Is wet envy
Desparate suspicions

Robbed of the ability to trust
When all that remained was a frayed crocheted blankie
And a rubber-faced monkey
Forehead sliced
Tattered shirt torn
And a small wooden rocker

He doesn’t rock anymore
In his aging body, with his aged heart
But he remembers
The slim moments of comfort
As... Read More »