दो नोट माय love

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

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

A few to get us started

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

"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

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

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

summer

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