Robert Pennington Price Poetry


Sitting in my living room
Rain rat tat tatting ore my head
Dollops of rain ease down
The front window like melting wax

Another sip from a vente quad soy wet cappuccino
Yet another, a drip drops on a jeans covered knee
From an indistinguishable leak
Another drip, cold

Went on a lame adventure
Performance art, strip poker
In a store front window
By a controversialist

Advocating occupy wall street
As the rain rattles down
Contemplation and a frown
The silver-black asphalt reflects

A silvery shroud
Temperature mild
Financial gridlock
Must put air in tires


Campari effect subsided
Precipitation clamorous
Music of the rain
Tinkling notes

Striking odd elements
An enamel shade
The iron garden table
A tin bucket

Gravel drive
Fieldstone walk
Concrete statuary
Copper roof

Stove pipe
Slate patio
Potted arboretums
Grassy green

Indian trail
Flowing gutters
Trees laid bare

Babbling brook
No longer audible
Rain’s orchestration
A tick on old glass

With Buddha
Ore the left shoulder
Draped in multiple
Colored Christmas lights

The rain sings
An elaborate song
Making way
To aquifer and brook
Buddha smiles wanly

Chords chime
The song sings
Making time
The rain wings

From the bed
All fluff with pillow
Under shed
Beyond willow

The song of rain
Will entertain
The mind the soul
And earth

Each melody
For her for me
All and free

Rain Addendum

Gravel drive
Fieldstone walk
Concrete statuary
Copper roof

Stove pipe
Slate patio
Potted arboretums
Grassy green

Indian trail
Flowing gutters
Bared trees
Buddha smiles wanly

Beautiful Morning

A cloudbank
Retreating front
Miles high
Tsunami like
White foam
At the crest
A sun
So bright
Winter pales
Mercurial rise
Plan devise
Good day
To move…


So Can You, Too

As I lay
Looking on
The lighted wood
Jazz plays
From another room.

The bathe was hot
The suds were salty
The kitchens clean
To hell with haughty.

Warm the night
Cool the dream
Fed on fish
Life supreme.

Mark the way
Fly the flag
Leave the fray
Have your way.

See you up the river.


The sun glares
Through moth holes
In the violet-silver drape
As rain pelts to its death

Mercury fell double digits
Fresh air whips
From northern exposures
Ochre leaves dance

Hot wet drink
Small comfort
To dipping temps
Gloves weather

A great lake
Attending palms
Fanning psalms

Silver lining
At horizon
Hope, pray
Here to stay

Must to move
Too cold to sit
Scrape the groove
I must do laundry…

December Dawn

The sunlit wood
Out this window share
With all the world
Less their bare

Old sol reaches deep
To the roots of the trees
Warming natures keep
Glowing for free

I breath and stretch
An owl out of reach
My eyes do fetch
Navigating breach

Still waters reflect
A cerulean sky
And perfect bark
All who care can spy

While Devotchka plays
And Landlord bays
I breath and stretch
Now must fold laundry

To be continued…

A Pouring Of Silence

Rain pummels the tree house roof
Gutters overflow with clack and clatter
The lighted wood shimmers with a glaze of wet
A drummed beat, sporadic
Symbols clash.
Drops of precipitation join
Fill the stream
To river
To bay
To ocean
And aquifer
A cleansing
And Rinse
Cement walks worn
Seasoned leaves gnarled
Loam eroded …
Nature beautiful nature…
Sky lightens
Pre dawn
A silver-gray cloak
A train Rumbles
The horn section
The silence is broken
No word spoken
Returns  again
Cadence mend
A book
A fire
Peace inspire
Pouring silence