bill roberts



Paintings in the Museum of the Imagination

The Past

Dandy men, proper ladies,
on a dance floor,
eyes closed as they whirl,
space between them,
unconcerned with
what is about to happen.


A thin child,
timid little boy
with large eyes, looking up
at something imaginary --
his imagination
his salvation.


No one's fault
the way things happened --
go out that door
and much is there,
but for God's sake,
go out the door.


Bitterness is the end
of thinking --
being open
to a new thought,
this new route to freedom
is continuing education.

The Future

Ah, the welcomeness
of mystery in life,
not knowing what
will yet be known --
alert, listening, watching,
though aging, deaf, blind.


Bill Roberts has had a thousand poems published in nearly 200 online and small-press magazines (including Chantarelle's Notebook, HazMat Review, Long Story Short, Main Street Rag, Rattle and Thick With Conviction, to name a few).  One poem was nominated for Best of the Net in 2009, another received a Pushcart Prize nomination.  He has finally retired from consulting on nuclear weaponry, dreams of a far-off day when all WMD are negotiated to the scrap heap.  Bill lives quietly in Broomfield, Colorado and can be contacted at



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