This Easter

This Easter

Easter 🐰 morning once again
Yet this day is a gem
For we go around the bend
To have a treat that will mend

For here we sit among birds that sing
In this mirror of a family ring
Having fun with toys that ding
Just for the day he’s made King

For he was born on an Easter Sunday 🐇
The Dawn of a new era we pray
For everything to be okay
Blessings to all I say

Even if it is just once a year
The memory isn’t made of fear
you’ll find no saddened tear
No matter how long you stare

Bunnies and a Chick
With a squeak cheep and a click
Today is a happy one
Even the good days gets done
it was all in good fun

On the road home
With fingers of foam
And blue cotton candy 🍭
This Easter was surely dandy

© 2019 By M. Robbins

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Toddler Days

Toddler Days

I stare upon blue eyes
As I try to comfort the cries
Scared of the dark and shadows
Even though the nightlight glows

He came up on two years
Still he will go through phase fears
Every day he shows he cares
He may babble yet still we do cheers

I don’t do babysitters
I’m not a quitter
Mommy knows best
Even without rest

He’s my soul and heart
I couldn’t bear to part
All the while he acts wild
he is still my child 👶

Nothing beats a mother and son team
Even when he may seem to scream
A mothers love is unconditional
Even in the sense of Traditional

All the ways we play
Time slipping away
I have been called a coddler of rays
And I say to you – only for the Toddler Days

© 2019 By M. Robbins

The Darkling Thrush

The Darkling Thrush

The Darkling Thrush By Thomas Hardy

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

Lost

Lost

Like a robot I have no emotions
Many days I go with the motions
Yet something is lacking
My mind seems to be cracking
Weak and leary I have no backing
heartbeats you are no longer tracking

What has become of thee
That I can no longer see
No longer am I free
Cursed for all eternity
who am I with no identity
I have no warmth or amenity

Crushed is thy heart of homogeneity
Change has come with this oddity
My world filled with the darkness of late
Things at random and can’t contemplate
Madness swirling and lustful hate
Oh consciousness you took the bait

Here I will in the darkness stay
Waiting for that light of day
Even if I should fade away
Whilst demons have their place and play

My Soul comes with a cost
And thy veins will be frost
Eyes Have been exhaust
Myself entirely is lost

©2019 by M. Robbins

Pressure

Society’s Plight Kills the weak of heart
It leaves people strewn and torn apart.
Bit by bit both sides pull the string
That makes the ominous one sing.

Each passing day turned into 3 years
full of tears and fears
Yet mostly full of radicals racist cheers.
One more year of torture and pain
then it is the voting game.

Seems to me we’re better off with naught
Since each side can be bought
here’s a lesson that can be taught
The truth should always be sought.

Media has a dirty role
sometimes they contaminate the poll
Media also likes to play the troll
Even when they rip the toll

Yet this year might be a treasure
Even though we’re all under pressure.

©2019 by M. Robbins

New Colossus

New Colossus – Statue of Liberty sonnet in full

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

By Emma Lazarus circa 1700s

sleeplessness

The joys and the pains of motherhood The surprises in the form of a little person
All I want and wish for is him to have a perfect childhood
Whilst all the days I must stop myself from cursing

Oh little guy my sweet baby boy
My glasses are not a toy
More and more I say to thee STOP THAT
As you try to go drum and tap tap
You’re only a year old
Yet you’re rebelous and dare I say bold

In one ear and out the other
Never listening to mother
I don’t have that deep voice
Yet I do have another choice

There’s always Nana or Dad
Since mama has to get away
Batteries are drained because of the wee lad
Truly feel that I will fray

All the days I wrestle with restlessness
Feeling breathless after the child chase
Not to mention cleaning up the “waste”

Tears, Screams and Laughs all endlessness
Pushing through the exhaustion
All while keeping caution
Sometimes though through my weepingness
Your smile is all I need to help with my sleeplessness

© 2018 By M. Robbins