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  • By Dean Robbins

"Roots" & Other Poems


Roots

An iron fence holds back the cluster of

daisies from falling over the stone wall,

though I have never known daisies to fall

when rooted firmly, below or above.

I wonder when they'll navigate their way

down through the seven feet or so of earth,

then cross beneath the wall, then rise - rebirth!

A daisy where a sidewalk broke away.

I like to think I've given roots that strong

so my children can bloom where they belong.


Poe Valley

From where we sat, the lake below

shone verdant in the mid-day sun,

as if the mossy forest glow

was not a simple reflection

of the surrounding wealth of trees,

but something spread throughout the deep;

much more than what the surface sees,

and what the water means to keep.

Of the surrounding wealth of trees,

but something spread throughout the deep;

much more than what the surface sees,

and what the water means to keep.


A Brief Conversation on the Hierarchy of Incompetent Management

"Listen as the yellow roses

question, in the Full Moon's light,

what he thinks of what he knows is

waiting at the edge of night."

"Is it true that yellow roses

boast when speaking to the Sun?"

"Yes, and each of them supposes

he will be the brighter one."


Dean Robbins is 60 years old and lives with his wife, Karen, in Danville, Pennsylvania. He has earned a B.A. and M.A. from Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania. His publication credits include Poetry Quarterly, Northeast Poetry Review, Eastern Pennsylvania Poetry Review, The Lyric, Word Fountain, Inside Pennsylvania Magazine, and Ideals, among others. Robbins is a member of the Mill Street Writers in Danville. When neither reading nor writing, he enjoys spending time with his children and grandchildren.

6 comments

6 Comments


Guest
Sep 25, 2022

Thank you so much for your kind words. I am pleased to know that my passion for my craft has not gone unnoticed. I hope to be submitting again soon.

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David Gosselin
David Gosselin
Jul 06, 2022

Here we have a nice reminder that while Modernism tended to emphasize the importance of beautiful craft, there is also the question of beautiful ideas. What constitutes a beautiful idea? What constitutes an ugly idea? Are these just questions of craft? How does one make the distinction? Can a beautiful poem with ugly ideas really exist?


These are just some of the questions that come to mind as one reads a seemingly simple yet rather subtly profound piece like "Roots," or "A Brief Conversation."

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martinmccarthy1956
martinmccarthy1956
Jul 07, 2022
Replying to

These are very astute remarks, and I feel that David is on the verge of writing an essay about 'craft and creativity' - and the whole topic of 'beautiful ideas' - which, no doubt, will stimulate a lot of debate, and he can count me in. Your remark about crafting yourself is a gem!

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Cindy Erlandson
Cindy Erlandson
Jul 06, 2022

In "Roots", I like your very interesting use of enjambment, as well as the imagery in "A daisy where a sidewalk broke away." The imagery of "Poe Valley" is also beautiful, as is the thought on which the poem is based. And the imagery and rhyme in "A Brief Conversation" are well done, but I especially love its originality of thought: "What he thinks of what he knows is / waiting at the edge of night" is fascinating.

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jm6783685
jm6783685
Jul 06, 2022

While these poems remind me very much of Robert Frost, they in no way constitute a pastiche, and have a very individual wit, and intelligence, and wisdom. I feel I have met a new voice. This work exemplifies the fact that it is by working within an established tradition that one can be most innovative.

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