Tag Archives: poetry

Beth Marie’s

9 Mar

Marble counter tops

and checkered tiled floors.

How can you be in a bad mood

with the smell of waffle in the air

and frozen sugary milk melting in your mouth?

Its impossible not to smile at this point.


~Edward Austin Robertson






The House on Tennesee Street

8 Mar

It was my reaction to a period of deep dissatisfaction.

My brother went off to fight in the war and

my professional mistakes bled into my personal life.

No longer certain of my purpose,

I reversed direction

and spent a year shirking responsibility–and delinquent payments—

taking a massive pay cut to sort things out

in a long overdue gap year.


Back to square one

in my back to school spirit.

I rediscovered my joy through play.


Taking acid–kicking and shooting and passing and jumping and sweating,

smiling and laughing and dosing; popping and locking,

puffing and sipping, napping ,fapping, crapping and snacking

shagging and packing–and lounging in cut off shorts.


An unsustainable cycle

of coffee, naps, herbs and payment plans.

I knew at my age that it couldn’t last.

Watching the time evaporate

like the smoke building inside my lungs

and the clouds blown out of my bedroom window.


~Edward Austin Robertson




6 Mar


It felt like everyone on the subway was talking about him.

I was at the Dundas station heading to St. Clair West

when I found out.

The phone call from her only added to the sense of time and place.

There was the city wide festival

and a surprising summer romance,

but what I remember most was that no matter where I was

for the next two days, someone was playing his music

in their cars, out of the apartment windows, and in storefronts.

I may have even let a tear drop into my corn soup

when Human Nature came on the radio

at the Jamaican spot I was hanging.

Perhaps it was the sad irony hitting me,

that even at the height of his powers

he never really got to freely enjoy the fruits of his labors.

He was finally free now to smile beautifully forever

as a young, black talent where no one could

hurt or disappoint him any longer.

We all collectively failed him

and yet he never stopped giving to us.

Maybe we didn’t deserve him.


~Edward Austin Robertson



I hope that you understand

6 Mar

My lips know exactly where they want to go

if I were to ever see you again……..

which is exactly why that can never happen.



~Edward Austin Robertson





It’s Official

24 Jan

Thanks to a buddy of mine, I found out that my latest collection of poetry, Poems About Lawrence is available to purchase here and here. You can get it in paperback or on the kindle. Thanks in advance for supporting this project.



Edward Austin Robertson


New Collection of Poetry On the Way

29 Dec

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My newest book , “Poems About Lawrence” will be available to purchase in a couple of weeks. You will  be able to buy it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Ingram, among other places. I will keep you posted. Until then, have a happy new year and enjoy this playlist that I made while editing the book.


~Edward Austin Robertson


Labor Day Weekend in New Orleans

1 Dec

Cigarette in hand,

drunk on brown liquor, and

exhaling into the slow swampy night.

I found myself finally at ease with the rhythm of the city,

as a wave of understanding washed over me.

I needed more Tom Waits in my music catalog.



~Edward Austin Robertson