Nice to meet you

I am very pleased to meet you I am not particularly good at writing bios, partially because I am new to self-publishing and just terrible at self-promotion but here goes!

The irony of my previous statement is as an owner of an art gallery and performance venue I have been actively promoting artistic expression in many forms, for many years now! I am now listed as a top writer in photography and art on this platform and will endeavor to promote as much as I can in my poetry as possible.

This is not a selfless act for I am…


Music by Constant Goddard and lyrics and vocals by me

Stroll this sphere
Of souls
Strides unclear
-ly shown
strain and fear
Take toll
Atmosphere
Gets cold
Scattered tears
Take hold
Stealing years
Untold

But

I…
Can see
The art
Run free
cry …
the plea’s
of hearts
decree
spy…
the scenes
impart
of dreams
fly
set free
rain art
on me

let it

rain

© 2020 Robert Trakofler

I came across this music quite by (A very happy)accident, Constant had sent me a link to a playlist that I thoroughly enjoyed listening to! My curiosity led me to search for more of his music and this song so…


Or State of Matters, States of Matters, Mind over Matters or Matters of State. A poem By Robert Trakofler

A monochrome photograph of me clutching my forehead reflected from a puddle of water with a thin grin
A monochrome photograph of me clutching my forehead reflected from a puddle of water with a thin grin

From a distance I watch the ripples rise
As rain drops strike the hot summer pavement
Steam lifts to warp the scene before my eyes
As it shifts states of matter and my placement

The earthy scent of a cloudbursts baptize
Washing the dry grit of economy
From leaf and soil in a petrichor sigh
Freed from the weight of thirsts disharmony

A reflection of me to my surprise
Cast from a puddle is my grinning face
Looking back at me in silent reply
That this is the look of a presence graced

A final drop…


A pause for some poetic thought

Mixed media primitive painting of an older man sitting in a lounge chair staring intently with a contemplative expression
Mixed media primitive painting of an older man sitting in a lounge chair staring intently with a contemplative expression

I have an obsession with waves this is my sketch of motion…

AS always thank you for reading and or listening to my poem it means the world to this old poet. Audio link at the bottom of my poem:)

I gesture in the regard of a sunset smile
As I passage my inscription of minutes
In the grace obscured by the mundane beguiled
I was once told “young man, don’t race through the visit.”

I’m the old man now, contemplative is my pace I strike motion in the reverence of fascination The adoration of prosaic bloom is my chase…


Poetry and spoken word (A true story)

The luminous man Always carried many lights You must understand He survived a ghastly plight A blackouts remand On a stormy summer night With just room to stand In a lift was trapped mid flight Many souls were crammed In a dark vault without sight Sense of time expands When your adrenalines hiked No fresh air was fanned As their temperatures spiked Many elbows jammed Some reflexive others spite As their bodies slammed And their minds got filled with fright Their fates had been damned In their natures fight or flight This luminous man Seemed a most affected soul…


A vision in the obscurity

Photograph of my no pondering sign next to a heavily fogged bank
Photograph of my no pondering sign next to a heavily fogged bank

I hear the beckoning breath softly cry from the breeze
As it tickles the rolling waves in windswept caresses

Rushing waters trickle a refrain
As it retreats along the rocky recess
revealing moonlit tide pools
that ripple with tiny arcs of astral reflections

I watch the mist rise at the confluence of warm air
embracing the cool waters to coalesce in foggy plumes
slowly rising to billow in a purposeful motion
to collect and sway in the shorelines melody

A cloudy hand emanates from the bank's edge, I see its wispy fingers curl and fold…


A free verse poem

Photograph of myself getting my second Coronavirus vaccination in black and white a sign in the background that reads wellness is in color
Photograph of myself getting my second Coronavirus vaccination in black and white a sign in the background that reads wellness is in color

Injected with a promised start;
I sauntered through the parking lot,
and climbed inside my graced impart,
for now, I’ve got my Covid shot.

But, it seems that I was not…inoculated;
For now I see, the ones we’ve lost articulated

In the unspoken words
And the untouched cheeks
Of a grand… child,
Mother, father
Brother, sister

And I feel…

The collective cries
of the mournful
in the losses;
to the billions of smiles,
from the millions of souls.
and the myriad
lost years!

I may have been, vaccinated;
But I was not, inoculated…

And in those…


A conversation between poets

Photograph of a sidewalk flower box with red petunias the flowers are colored and the rest of the picture is black and white.
Photograph of a sidewalk flower box with red petunias the flowers are colored and the rest of the picture is black and white.

The lines in bold are mine, the lines in Italics are hers . . .

I know of no greater power
Than the delicate fortitude
Of the willingness to bloom
The sheer nature of nurturing
In the sacrifice of bestow


~You, dear man
come take my hand
no need for force
when this great power
will take its lead to gentleness
to flow and blossom.

The hollowness . . .
In the subjugation of thrive,
or in the diminish of yield,
Has never been potency.
To break a thing is not strength
As you would have us believe

~l don’t…


Subconscious conversations from the muse

Photograph of a mans shadow wearing a fedora leaning against a thin tree cast upon a large tree trunk
Photograph of a mans shadow wearing a fedora leaning against a thin tree cast upon a large tree trunk

And they will know you when;
they walk into the room,
and see an old familiar grin;
inside a shadow's bloom.

And they will know you then
but maybe not your name;
nor place the face to trace their ken,
they’ll know you just the same.

A fair forgotten yen,
adrift in times refrain,
like whispers from forgotten friends;
the music still remains.

But they won’t, know you now,
a draft of inkblot stains;
of meanings dripped to lines avowed;
discoursing from your veins.

You wear a ghostly shroud;
of yet unfound attain. …


On the occasion of Illuminations first year anniversary I am not surprised at the success of this publication. You have all reaped what you have sown. I tell everyone about the welcoming nature and nurturing atmosphere that you have created here! Like I said the very first time I joined this publication… I will always support a forum that actively promotes creative expression and you all have done this myriad! Congratulations and thank you for all that you have done to help the many fine writers journeys that you have billowed in this publication including this crazy old scrawler

Robert Trakofler

Poetry & lyric writer, drummer & vocalist Owner of an art gallery, antique store, Vegan restaurant and performance venue in Pittsburgh called The Zenith.

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