Robert Ray : Writing

An Old Game

An Old Game

A Poem by Robert Ray


I see, hear and feel the first finger-flung missile, flying to sisal fibre and steel; silver tip into curved thistle, the pub’s wear..
My Jailer

My Jailer

A Poem by Robert Ray


This is a previous poem I've revised. Only seems appropriate given the lingering winter weather in the Midwest.
An Unwelcome Weed

An Unwelcome Weed

A Poem by Robert Ray


Beware, good ladies... within your garden it can appear and creep.
Daffodils

Daffodils

A Poem by Robert Ray


Daffodils, buttery yellow, dance in spring green beyond hushed shadows, along and between a fallen farmhouse an’ timber-..
Break the Strings!

Break the Strings!

A Poem by Robert Ray


Dreams whispered, dreams dismissed, With a squint, smirk, giggle, laugh, joke. “You’re too young, old, dumb, weak, poor!” ..
Rise Rockwell, Paint Again

Rise Rockwell, Paint Again

A Poem by Robert Ray


Addiction, especially to opioids, is now a national crisis. Communities and families suffer immeasurably from these wicked drugs. This poem speaks t..

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