Robert E. MacIntosh
Houston, Texas, USA
Robert E. MacIntoshHouston, Texas, USA |
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Bob has always had an interest in writing poetry, and short stories while in school. Later, after a two year stint in the U.S. Army, he attended a school of fine arts in his home state of New Jersey. He worked in the commercial art field in New York City for fifteen years. Since his retirement he has taken to writing poetry again, with some success. He is currently trying his hand at script writing, and is a member of "Scriptwriters of Houston." Robert believes that as one grows older, one can see more clearly the foibles and the joys of life. Putting these feelings on paper is a challenge he very much enjoys. |
Was That SheI still think I see her.She appears for fleeting moments in a crowd. Smiling and happy, then... gone. There was no time to get close. To the owner of, the impostor of that face, To shout out loud, "come home, my darling". The noise of the crowd would smother my words, And then my hopes, And then my heart, once more, As they did again today, When she passed by the exit door... And quickly slipped away! |
Old FriendsThere are no friends like thoseWho have known us as a youth, Almost as though, I do suppose Only they can know the truth About the pieces and the parts That constitute our minds and hearts. So treasured are the old familiar faces, All the music and the places And the eyes that still remember Things that lead us to this cold December. |
The Pity BirdsAt a time when dark and dismal eventsGather around your backyard fence, And surround your garden wall like crows in mourning, Engaging in a flapping of their wings in warning, You can be sure they do not come to sing, But to await the perfect time To peck your hands for whatever joy you bring. So pretend their presence there will never matter. Take care not to scatter breadcrumbs of self pity, That may nourish even one black-hearted knave, For once you feed misfortune's agents, They'll wait forever for your saddest days, And force you to find, yet one more Morsel of self pity ever hence! |