Condemned For Loving Too Much

Condemned for Loving Too Much

Poetry Palace Award

Loving (TV series)
Image via Wikipedia

“Condemned for Loving too Much”

All was quiet in this forgotten town,

Because of the record snow tumbling down,

Yet in the plaza crowds were shopping still,

Looking for entertainment to get their fill,

There were walkers, and talkers, shops all ablaze,

Restaurants still open but countless delays,

Marge was waiting patiently and talking to a friend,

This day had been perfect, she didn’t want it to end,

Somehow, she noticed him, standing off from the crowd,

His gray eyes fixed on her, haughty and proud,

His brown coat, his lean frame, the thin twisted nose,

Why she alone could see him, she could only suppose,

His eyes asked questions, the answers she didn’t dare,

What kind of man was he? One that didn’t care?

Was he an angry ghost or a demon of some kind?

Why were his thoughts penetrating her mind?

Somehow in his hands he held her new fate,

She thought, “Is it possible to love someone you hate?”

As this thought surfaced, Marge pushed it away,

She had never seen him before, not until today,

“He is not attractive,” she thought, “not in the least,”

But he continued to stare at her like she was a feast,

Her face flushed, and deep within the heat began,

Rising in waves until perspiration ran,

She was uncomfortable, she needed time to think,

But he watched her diligently, not once did he blink,

“Is it possible to love your enemy?” she thought,

“What is it about me that’s so eagerly sought?”

She was thirty-three years old for goodness sake,

And ten pounds too heavy, give or take,

Yet she was flattered by his attention even more,

Unlike her friends, all her faults he chose to ignore,

He willed her to move forward, but he didn’t insist,

Although she closed her eyes, she was helpless to resist,

Silently Marge turned, her demon she faced,

When he smiled, her legs trembled, her heart raced,

She took one step forward, two, then three,

She unbuttoned her blouse, letting him see,

She hated him and yet she was offering her kind,

Melting into love, her body yielding to his mind,

Seeking his hatred, demands, contempt to slay,

Doing what she could, loving his hate away,

An act of love determined Marge’s fate,

Is it possible to love, someone you hate?

All is quiet again in this forgotten town,

But there is one less demon standing around,

No one wants to question or be out of touch,

Should Marge be condemned for loving too much?



I’m moving slowly this morning.

My back hurts as I do the Parkinson’s shuffle.

One foot, now the next,

Not too fast, I warn myself.

This dance is not for the weak.

The buzzards are gathering.

I’m not dead, but I haven’t had my coffee.

Usually I pour the hot steaming liquid

With finesse and flair.

But today the smell of death hangs in the air.

I’m too tired to put the little container

Into the coffee maker and push start.

I’ve lost mastery over that art.

My muscles have been cramping,

My hands have been shaking,

Neurons and glial cells shrinking,

Nothing I can see, yet it’s happening to me.

I continue to function

Learning and memory gain as my goal.

Regeneration of brain cells.

I search for some research

That offers me a cure,

Or a reason for hope

Or a reason to laugh

Or a reason to live and love.

I look around.

The buzzards are still gathering.


April 20, 2016

Dan Roberson




I never told you I loved you.

It would have been so simple

To make it very clear.

But I didn’t.

If I had called you dear,

You might have known.

But I didn’t.

I kept my feelings inside

Wrapped in my foolish pride.

Because I loved you.

I didn’t dream your love was so big

That you could love me too.

When I was examined

The doctor implied I was almost dead.

There was nothing he could do.

I thought I was hanging by a thread.

I wanted to tell you I loved you.

But I didn’t.

I underestimated your heart.

Before I died I wanted to be sure

You would be happy with life,

Somebody’s precious wife.

I introduced you to my best friend.

I wish I hadn’t.

The doctor was wrong,

My heart is strong.

And my friend looks very content

With the woman who was meant

For me.

If I had loved you for one fleeting moment

My dreams would be full,

But I didn’t.



Dan Roberson





He loved the ocean’s many moods,

From red skies in the morning with all alarms,

He warily observed the smooth horizon

But prepared for her oncoming storms.

Beginning with majestic swells,

The ship rode waves from trough to crest.

Inside the cabin he felt content and safe,

Like being at his mother’s breast.


There were also quiet clear nights,

Electric nights filled with glowing fish,

That darted alongside the ship’s hull,

Ready to grant him his favorite wish.

He wished he could be one of them,

Leaping and flying from wave to wave.

But as he watched he felt great despair.

He would never be quite so brave.

The sea could lure him from time to time,

Her beauty had him under her spell.

He would return and walk that rolling gait,

She knew his heart too well.

Seascapes were surreal but always a delight.

Harbors were protection during perilous night.

The ocean was his mother, his wife, his lifeboat,

And from the crow’s nest, his world was afloat.



Dan Roberson



She surprised me again last night.

Noiselessly she slipped in,

Planting wet kisses on my brow.

“How do you like me now?”

She was cloaked in mystery,

Cold in demeanor,

Yet there was no way

I could ignore her or turn her away.

I loved her. She knew I watched

And had given her my heart.

Like so many others I fell to her charms.

I didn’t want to end up in her arms,

But when she called I came to her,

Enjoying every moment

Until it was time to go.

She pulled away oh, so slow,

And left me quivering and weak,

High on the shore.

I didn’t dare ask for more

Because her beauty was more than a face.

Once again she found her resting place

Among the rocks and the deep

She waited to dance again,

A pattern, a schedule, her life, all there,

The ocean with wind in her hair,

Rushed in with the tide,

And ebbed out with pride,

Bold and beautiful,

She sang a siren’s song

And I understood why all along

Poets like Masefield were entranced

By her whispers and her constant chatter.

She really did matter,

I knew I must stay close

But not lose my head

Someday buried in the briny depths

Where flesh cannot tread.


April 18, 2016

Dan Roberson

Too Old


I’m too old for sex…according to my kids.

My life is over, I’m on the skids.

I’m too old to drive…according to impatient youth

If I object to their speeds, I’m rude and uncouth.

What am I too old for?

I’m too old for hot foods, cold foods, and maybe all foods

My teeth are gone, but my taste buds are good.

I’m too old for women,

But can’t I still look?

My eyes still work.

Does that make me a jerk?

I can admire what young men ignore,

So what am I too old for?

I shouldn’t be hiking, riding any kind of cycle,

Exercise might kill me, might make me smile,

Might give me reasons to walk a mile.

Too old to live, too soon to die,

My time is coming and you don’t need to cry.

I’m not as young, as smart, as tall, as slim,

My medical conditions are real, not based on whim.

I’m not a decoration, a person without a mind,

I’m still me, one of a kind.

Am I too old to enjoy this earth?

Am I without value, without any worth?

I am older than yesterday, younger than tomorrow,

I’ve faced challenges, deep joys, and sorrow.

I’m not too old to love or care,

My love doesn’t rely on muscles or hair.

My knowledge is not based on flimsy lies .

Consider me old but very wise.

Am I too old for one more day?

Too old to kneel, thank God, and pray?

I’m not too old to dream or regret,

Or to appreciate the moments I get,

The world is traveling at a faster pace

But I’ll try to make it a better place.



April 11, 2016

Dan Roberson


The Sky Is Blue

If you had asked me the color of the sky

I would have told you.

If you had asked me why I cry

My answer would have been true.

So many things you could have known

If you had asked in a normal tone.

If I had loved you a little bit more

You might still be here

Instead of walking out the door.

Communication was not our best skill

Yet when we talked I loved you more.

Each conversation was a thrill.

We made peace and love, not war.

We didn’t have to do things my way

I just wanted a say.

It was more important that we heard

All the inner desires of the heart

Word for word.

If we had refused to argue and fight

Things might have turned out all right.

I still miss you

And dear, the sky is blue.


Dan Roberson



You Are a Diamond

You are a diamond.

Don’t ever forget that!

You are a fabulous gem

with beauty that stirs me

and those who see within.

Originally a lump of coal,

You were riddled with faults,

confused like each one of us.

Making choices as you grew,

You made your way,

Learning what hurt you or hurt others.

Under layers  of earth that ugly coal

Was squeezed and went through tremendous heat

and became a beautiful diamond.

You are like that lump of coal

The demands of society and life

combined to put you under pressure and heat

giving you experiences and wisdom

To turn you into the diamond you are.

When you enter a room the lights of your heart

sparkle and shine,

making heads turn and hearts flutter.

you are the most precious type of gem known,

a diamond forevermore.


dan roberson