The Substitute

Foreign rooms
Strange children
every day
Something new
Sometimes I’m blue
It does get old
Hearing disrespect
Glad to disconnect


Temporary moments
Faces of acceptance
Minds in learning mode
Something new
Pledge of Allegiance
to red, white and blue
Joy never grows old
Teach the three R’s
Homeroom sweet homeroom

© Janice J. Robinson
April 27, 2015


Stop the Merry-Go-Round, I want to get on!

Ideas pop and sizzle in

sponge-like gray pockets of

human byte-size menus.  Words

coagulate to form eclectic

mental visions that tantalize.


Keyboard clicks with strokes

lovingly designed toward success.

Flattened wood pulp jammed

around the platen to catch the ink jet splatters.


Manila pockets of hope that

carry out the mission, like

the Pony Express of yesterday.

It suffers the Hara-kiri ritual

performed by ordinary letter openers.


It waits for the brusque editorial

attention its author has waited to

hear.  Waiting to feed the need.

Licking up comments like crumbs

that fall to the floor.


Floated towards the river of acceptance,

or resigned to slush pile ignominy.

The author waits with bated breath

and a tingly expectation, as the SASE

is gleaned from the morning mail.



Janice J. Robinson

©  November 30, 1995


A Poet’s Dilemma

Circadian…Cinnabar Red…

I want to go back to bed

Rhymes and Reasons…

Oh, WAIT!…Should it be Treason’s?


Butter…Butter…My hearts’ all-a-flutter

Writing these words…writing…writing…


“Sing a song of six-pence…

A pocket full of rye…”


No…No…That’s been done to death

Oh, poor Mother…She really was a silly old goose.


Words a-plenty…Buz-z-z-ing in my head

Circadian…yes, yes, the rhythms of life

Cinnabar red…better words instead




My lunch with the bunch

That I never started…No, I won’t say it

It’s been written on every wall

By poetic squatters waiting for pay-dirt

If you don’t understand it, just sit a spell

It’ll come to you by and by


My pockets stuffed with paper

Oh, what a caper

See you later…Alligator


As I twirl my artistic pen with my fingers

Waiting for the words for my very next zinger!


Janice J. Robinson

©  October 19, 2011

Two Haiku Odes to two Twinkies

Haiku Ode #1

I grew up with you

I ate you

I came to hate you


Haiku Ode #2

Wrapped in gold dream

Mama will scold

     My finger in the cream

April is all about poetry – Vol. 1, no. 13




Since April has been chosen as the month in which we celebrate poetry, it should be noted that movements have begun because poetical bards, painters and performers have produced literary works of art that highlighted our community felt needs, and societal injustices that need to be corrected.  When the news was in the forefront of our eyes that certain people or groups were actually burning churches to the ground without any real reason, this poem was written addressing this societal botch.



‘Ashes, Ashes, even if it all falls down!’


A hellish dis-ease leaves cruel pockmarks of

racist rehetoric across the face of a land that

once boasted it was free.  The bloody scourge

sweeps over and through while flame-throwing

cowards burn her churches to the ground.


Just as history records that Nero persecuted

and hunted Christians down.  So let the record

stand that these cowards also rate as zero.

What a nifty new commercial that this would make:

‘From Nero to Zero in just two thousand years!’


Ashes, Ashes, even if it all falls down!


But truth remains truth with God Almighty as

Judge, but facts can indeed lie when God is

conveniently kept out of the picture.  The Truth?

We all are one blood!  All came from Adam.

We just live in different colored houses.


But you must be born aain and then you begin

to realize, that even if they burned every

stained-glass building down:  The Church of Jesus

Christ lives within.  I am the Temple.  We worship

in Spirit and Truth for the Father seeks such


to Worship Him.


By Janice J. Robinson    © 1996


If you are a Christian poet in the Chicago area, at least for the month of April, this writer would like to make available to other poets a place to exhibit some of your poems. Please only submit your own original poems, since you can give permission to publish your work. You can contact this writer at Your poems must glorify the Lord God, or His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ or the Word of God. God Bless you in your endeavors.



April is all about poetry – Vol. 1, no. 1

ImageSince April has been named as the National Month of Poetry, which was  inaugurated in 1996 according to the Academy of American Poets.  This  month it is celebrating its sixteenth birthday.  Since this writer not only  covers Biblical topics, but is also a published poetess, these articles will  devote some space to poetry that has been inspired by the love of the Lord Jesus  Christ.  So enjoy reading the poetry that will be featured for this  month.

‘My Touch’


My touch is love, it is a gentle dove upon your shoulder

It is living water for your thirst

I chose you!  You decided to follow

I do expect obedience at all times

I am your Master,  you are My servant

My touch is peace, it is joy upon your heart

As you hearken to your Master’s voice, I am

the manna that will feed your hungry, silent  need

I do expect obedience at all times

I am your Teacher, you are my apprentice

My touch is healing, it is compassion and balm to your  spirit

It is honey to your soul

My voice is the nectar that cleanses your ears

I do expect obedience at all times

I am your Shepherd, you are my lamb


By Janice J. Robinson

Copyright: 1996