Poems come to me unexpectedly, as does the weather to each day. Sometimes its fine and sunny and then its dark and stormy; often its something caught between these two extremes.
Just like the weather, I have no real control over the form each poem decides to take, and its quite a buzz being in the moment when a thought spills onto the page. Poetry most definitely has a life of its own, and at best, all I can do is guide it around the page and hope the reader likes it.
Love and melancholy are never far away in my poetry, and therefore, reflecting high emotions, they can soar to brilliant heights of glory or self-destruct in the deepest depths of doom. I make no apology for this, for isnt this just life? And if nothing else, my poems are all about life.
Kevin Robinson
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