Four Poems

Jeannie Roberts


If today, the sun appeared as woman
falling and flailing into the depth’s
of despair, drowning in sorrow
and the shadow of guilt and self-
reproach, would you reach out,
hold her, melt in her embrace?
Would you tell her she’s not alone?
Would you look into the light of
your existence, or would you walk
away, like all the rest, continuing
to believe the world revolves solely
around you?


It Runs in the Family

The dog’s agenda is simple, fathomable, overt: I want. I want to go out, come in, eat something, lie here, play with that, kiss you. There are no ulterior motives with a dog, no mind games, no second-guessing, no complicated negotiations or bargains, and no guilt trips or grudges if a request is denied. ― Caroline Knapp, American Writer (1959 – 2002)

Prior to the snarl and turn, before
unsuspecting steps entered hives,
where lives droned with egoistic
chorus, clung like the odor of smoke,
feigned honor and virtue, before spurn
and gloat, she believed; she believed
in the goodness of others, where
integrity sparkled and sincerity spoke,
where humanity sang with unified
note. Before doubt settled in, hers
was a naïve life―until clarity came
running, came wagging, overtly, with
fathomable joy and favor, only wanting
a pat.


The Clairsentient Espies
Envy, Wrath, and Pride

It’s been said, we’re all mirrors;
though hers had shattered long
ago leaving shards of knowing,

glimpses of history and clear
feelings. She’d developed a curious
sort of wavelength, an antennae

that sensed beyond the physical
realm, that perceived subconscious
energies. So, when discernment

met with an inferno, aiming its
sallow flames, scorching a path
between them, she shaped a shield,

an imaginary screen, one that
diverted the attendant vices, where
three of seven led the infernal
woman predictably out the door.


The Icy Covenant

of wedlock
weighs heavily
upon the crystallized

tongues of field grass
where the frozen
remains of leaves

lisp in rimy idiom
and frost coats
its sugary words

while betrothal attests
to the chilling vows
of winter and its certainty
of death.


Jeannie E. Roberts lives in an inspiring rural setting near Chippewa Falls, where she writes, draws, paints, and often photographs her natural surroundings. Jeannie is the author of three books, including Beyond Bulrush, a full-length poetry collection (Lit Fest Press, 2015). She works freelance on creative projects through her business. Learn more about her at

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