The Poetry of Robert J. Scavone

दो नोट माय love

2009-10-07T18:10:00.002-07:00

Do not feel depressed my love
Even when I tear,
For though my eyes may swell and cry
My heart is happy here;
As gold that burns in endless blue
Is mirrored on a sea of green
By flower petals opened new
Born suckling on the dew of dreams,
I'll wait forever time will fade and fold in on its seams...
No do not feel depressed my lover
Not all tears are mean

the walk

2009-10-07T18:10:00.001-07:00

my feet go where my heart dare not
amongst the weeds and funeral plots

A few to get us started

2009-10-06T20:19:00.000-07:00

I am Rob Scavone. I live in Manhattan, I am a poet. This is my blog. Enjoy and please leave comments. I now have a typewriter that can accomodate my fat fingers.

petland discounts

2009-10-06T20:18:00.002-07:00

"that one's pretty!"
she exclaimed,
and grabbed hold of his veins
and the pain that he felt made him wince.
"i want that one!"
she squealed,
and she tightened her grip
to the point where his stomach was sick
"oh the colors!"
she cried,
and she looked in his eyes
past the redness and liquid that dripped
"oh please that one!"
she begged,
he was weak in his legs...
but he stood up and bought her the fish.

veronica's hands

2009-10-06T20:18:00.001-07:00

i remember her hands,

like two old paper bags full of love
i remember how she touched my face
the tears in her eyes;
and mine...
how she lay there dying,
uncomfortable that i should see her in her gown
the smoothness of her flesh exposed.
so dignified before repose...
i remember everyday;
more holes more holes more holes
that tear through skin and probe the woes
but cannot touch the soul;
or so i say to sound sublime
sometimes the heart is not the mind
and words become the empty toll
of ethereal chimes;
emptiness...
what to believe?
i believe that death can take your life
on any given breeze.
and that love is real.
our love was real.
and maybe that is god

the shining

2009-10-06T20:15:00.000-07:00

i sent out a beam
a brightly shining ray
from the depths of my soul
in the atoms energy

summer

2009-10-06T20:13:00.000-07:00

summer new york rain
like a drunkard's anger
has strength in waves
but passes quickly;
leaving the sick sweet smell
of hot concrete

out of his head

2009-10-06T20:12:00.000-07:00

he was not his mind
his thoughts he left behind
in puddles of water
in the sun he seemed softer
perhaps the rays touched the author
as the stars pierce the onyx
pin holes in his memory
so his silence seemed sonic
hence he spoke with his vision
that was all he could promise
and he lived in the moment
all his past he abolished
the future was not written
he felt it dishonest
and he thought of it little
in the moment he frolicked
it was now he was living
every second was life
every instant was real
every other was trite
he was bored of his prison
so he entered the light
and he never looked back
and he finally took flight

from my window

2009-10-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

the sirens scream
the flash of steel
amidst the stone and ferris beams;
the constant whirl of all the world
cross section of humanity.
but where are all the flowers?
can they bloom in this calamity?
i think not.
we have stolen all their vanity...