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Men's Voices

poetry and articles from the men in our community



What sleight of hand
penetrates my soft body,
and those I love in the
deep cave-like recesses of my self ??
A sky for tumbling,
the gliding is almost
becomes normal,
and the rush of life is reveled
in the shock,
as some powerful current hits,
Gliding feathers stun apart,
the bird becomes a ball
of tumbling fear,
"What is happening?"
"What will happen?"
under the sun
in the sky.

April 14, 2004


What green plays inside me?
Swirls around my belly,
moving to my heart
my head wonders
thinks about
the chores I need to finish,
in the future,
and how
I can feel a swaying in me,
as a plant
at a great depth,
a long reed
moved by ripples and eddies,
nothing held,
but maybe an infusion ,
of the great mystery
into my bones
for the compass,
from my ancestors.

April 14, 2004

Neil Robinson (sometime in 1998)

Lost in symbols,
an unseen hand blasts the ground around an unfinished castle.
The boy doesn't see the shadow for the light around
the body of the man
who's hand
his manhood
and all
he doesn't know
he has.


Neil Robinson, (around 1998)

Waves break on squealing kids
maybe God likes children,
they see the newness
and excitement
no memory is as amazing
as a breaking wave.

Men on the beach talking stocks,
quotes, financial flow,
don't see each other
feeding their heads with shallow speak.
- dead language


Neil Robinson

Train doors slam in Beckenham Station,
like fire crackers around a Chinese new year's dragon
sounds for the beast.
varnished wood and glass doors,
metal locks click-slamming
in a shock,
thrilling the coming journey.
Empty now,
this symphony,
replaced by
smooth electronic clicks.

The Snow
Neil Robinson, April 11, 2004

Four stars glow like ice in the black sky
silver light falls gently on the
pine scented trees,
near the misty bubbling river
flowing cold, clear water
trickling around gnarled roots
that drink cool liquid into the night
and send their sap-scent
high above among the leaves and
into the dreamy dark.


( c) November, 2001 by Kelly Collins

Somethings just stay with you

not because they are dramatic or super embarrassing,
but because you don't know why

then you have a moment of perfect recall
like I did this morning
standing in front of the mirror
looking at myself in my black tee shirt
with the florescent red Batman logo

looking at myself
when a sudden flood of emotions
came into my awareness
and I was left awestruck at how Spirit weaves Its way through my life
in simple, yet profound, ways

my Dad gave me this tee shirt;
he had seen it at the store
and thought of me

I remember asking Mom
if Dad was aware that I was 49 years old,
and she said, "I know, I know,
but he insisted that I buy it for you"

I remember how she said the word "insisted"
because that was my Dad

he died a few months later;
the Batman tee shirt was his last gift to me

a year later, my son was born

I remember Mom saying,
"I wish your father was here -
he loved children so much -
I know he's looking down from Heaven"

I put the tee shirt away,
and wore it seldom;
for some reason, it is too embarrasing for me,
too outlandish a statement for someone who is reserved and sophisticated
like myself

today my son is three,
old enough to go trick-or-treating

I asked him what he wants to be for Halloween
and without pausing, he states "Batman"

as a matter of fact,
he's more interested in being Batman
than in getting candy;
although I have painstakingly instructed him
to say "Trick-or-treat" when the door opens;
he insists upon the greeting:
"I'm Batman"

he says this with his chest out and his hands on his hips:
"I'm Batman"

and now I'm here,
searching through my clothes drawer
for a tee shirt that I can do my yard work in,
and I put on my Father's tee shirt
with the faded florescent red Batman logo
and I look at myself in the mirror
and it all comes together for me

there's Dad,
looking down from Heaven


Something Other Than Water
(c) January, 2000 by Kelly Collins

There is a longing
inside me
to eliminate completely
the separateness
that comes between us
but I fear
to do so
would be to give up
who I am,
which is nonsense really
for I am nothing
without you
to reflect the me
that so longs
to be inside the you

we dance around this way
like drops of rain
upon the ocean
to be something
other than water