Vicky Robinson

Levanger, Norway

My name is Vicky Robinson, born May 20, 1970. I was born in Norway and when I was around 11 years old I moved, along with my family, to U.S.A California , but after 11 years I moved back to Norway alone. I learned a lot those years in the U.S.A. The most important was that I learned was to speak and write the American language and what I found in U.S.A. interesting was, of course, real Indians and cowboys. Let them never die out. My poems that I have written and write are of course not just about Indians and cowboys but about almost all types of people.

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They have to learn says the old cowboys,
to realize the facts of holding tight to all
situations in life.
The concentration for the next generation,
Its for them to take information from the
old cowboys inspiration.
demonstration of stabilization in the American nation.
Responsibly to take care of the old
cowboys history, the young cowboys confess
memories to keep from the old cowboys to
keep and the dignity, because young cowboys
confess memories to keep the dignity because they feel its necessary.


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The little boy doesnŐt understand that outside of his
body is covered in black, and the boy is often sad,
but a helping hand from his dad, trying to explain
that being black is not the same as being bad but
why said the boy, why are people so mad.
Its a question even todayŐs conflicts between blacks
and whites, the boys dad said, a man had a dream
his name was Martin Luther King, a man that a lot
of blacks believed in.
The little boy said, but dad all people are black even
the whites sometimes, the white peoples shadow that
follow them, why are they not angry over their shadow.
The boy is smart explains his father to the boys mother.
He is young, but soon he will understand whatŐs going on.


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The old chief believes and gives the young Indian hero a lift.
The old chief deliver a speech and a dance performs
under a rainstorm, the young Indian hero takes over
and brings his future talent into the mind of the
dying chief and he accepts this new leader.
The semblance are much alike, just that the new
leader is alive and has a future in sight, now the
young leader takes power from the dead chief in his
hands and makes his stands, the new leader
understands the old and new power and a goal to
take the sound of a wild strong horse of a powerful
soul only can appear during a sundown thatŐs near
and a black horse stands clear, the spirit of the old
chief is near, the new chief listens, he can hear the
old chief, a legend that lives within the soul of his
future horse.


All poems Copyright © 1996 Vicky Robinson. All rights reserved.