The Poet In Me

Posted on August 1st, 2016

Posted by Janne Robinson


The poet in me

can see you writing me


I was afraid

I ran away

I’m sorry

I told you I usually run away, do you remember?

And I would

And I would forgive you with urgency

for it’s the most right

right has ever felt

so far

and I have ran from love more times than I would like to admit

I can see myself landing in Puerta Vallarta

in two weeks

with brown and blonde curls as big as the Indian Ocean

toppling over one another with excitement to see you

I can feel the trickle of sweat

Under a white shirt that is unbuttoned three times

bellowing in the breeze

that comes when you’re a poet and can paint it all at your palms

I can see you

and your glacier blues

waiting for me


you’re wearing that light blue shirt

and you are different but the same

hearts don’t age like cheese or nice wine

but we do

I can see myself laughing with your parents

your dad brushing the grey of his hair

your mother likes me

all mothers like me

I have a kind heart

you do too

I see us on airplanes

packing toothbrushes and laptops

telephone calls late at night when we are gone

we may go places

but it doesn’t



for when it is real

it vibrates and humms quietly in the night

through the days

over oceans and mountains and cities blowing black fog into the trees

Yes, I’m going there

I can see us on a small yellow float plane flying over the green and Blues

there’s a yellow large mop of a dog with a rusted collar

a blue fish beside some red fins

perhaps a fishing rod

I’ve never been fishing you know

My fingers loosely hold yours

I can see us sleeping in a green tent

in Fryatt valley

cold toes pressed against your legs

I would like to take you there

I would like to show you Canada some day

not right now

you’re not ready

but someday I would like to show you all kinds of things

drink coffee in a blue tin can and shower in the yellow and pink limestone waterfall

we will need to hoist our food up every night into a tree

for bears and Cougars

you’d like that

I can see you chopping wood

through a window that has seen twenty years of rain

I can see a wool grey blanket and a roaring fire

I can see my heart burning beside it

for you light a fire in me

I can see the back of your blonde head on a white pillow underneath a bug net beside me

I can feel the weight of your arm as you wake up and pull me inside you

I can even see you sitting next to me

on this blue seat


In 32 F

passing by the turquoise greens of Miami

watching white clouds and a world pass by

we would drink black coffee

and I would massage your right hand

that you hurt

as you are as hard on your body

as this is on my heart

the poet in me can see all of these things

for I have the imagination of Picasso and the fingers of Frida

I can go anywhere with my heart and these words

it is why I breathe

but you are right

there is only black coffee

and I am alone

missing you foolishly and sweetly

writing this poem.