Wednesday, April 30, 2014


As God as my witness, photo by jontintinjordan, from Flickr


As God as my witness
I have reason to be afraid
As God as my witness
My debt is paid
As God as my witness
My hope is stayed

© March 12, 2013, Robbie Pruitt

Tuesday, April 29, 2014


Reflection, photo by Balaji.B, from Flickr


You saw me there
Pounding keys
In the night air
My reflection
Off your glass
As words amass
You saw me
As hours would pass
You knew—My reflection
It came through to you

© March 12, 2013, Robbie Pruitt

Monday, April 28, 2014

Apart at the Seams

Falling Apart at the Seams, photo by Jocey K, from Flickr

Apart at the Seams

Pulling apart
At the seams
Pulling covers
Fight to sleep
Fight the dream
Fight self
Loss of steam

Pull it together
Stitched up tight
Wrapped in
Love tonight
Lay like feather
Hold dream

© April 2012, Robbie Pruitt

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Birthing Dreams

Lucid Dream, photo by AlicePopkorn, from Flickr

Birthing Dreams

Dreams are not crafted.
Dreams are born.
In a specific place
Where impossibility
And reality are torn,
So come with me
To where dreams are born.

© February 20, 2013, Robbie Pruitt

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Wind II

Flowers in the Wind, photo by photophilde, from Flickr

Wind II

In the moonlight
The wind shifting
The silence
You are fading
Into the stillness
Your breeze
Carried me

© April 25, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Friday, April 25, 2014


 Blue Wind, photo by AlicePopkorn, from Flickr


Thought I felt you
And you slipped away
Your breeze carried me
Into the new day
You whispered
And faded—Stay
Again you blow
The stillness you know
Howling at night
In the moonlight
And gone again

© December 11, 2012, Robbie Pruitt

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Poetry on the Sly

Timer photo by r.nial.bradshaw, from Flickr

Poetry on the Sly

I am late for poetry;
beyond time for words,
rhythm and rhyme.
This verse is beyond me.
I am late for poetry.
Take the point as it is,
without the symmetry.

© March 22, 2013, Robbie Pruitt

Wednesday, April 23, 2014


The birth of consciousness, photo by kevin dooley, from Flickr


Beauty awakes
And finds you there,
Gazing into her eyes
And stroking her hair.

© April 2012, Robbie Pruitt

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

The Spin

Spinning, photo by josef.stuefer, from Flickr

The Spin

It sells—
The spin
Bad news
Comes daily
Again and again
Let’s start over
Re-spin me your
Stop the downward

© March 12, 2013, Robbie Pruitt

Monday, April 21, 2014


 The Grave Was Empty, photo by Steve Snodgrass, from Flickr

“Unfold my life to a new beginning.” –Ted Loder


Unfold my life
From the tomb
Fill my empty room

© March 30, 2013, Robbie Pruitt

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Life, A Poem By My Father

 (Bill Pruitt) William Pruitt Jr.'s high school Sr. Picture

“Who knows nothing base, fears nothing known.” — Owen Meredith

My father died April 20, 1998. He suffered most of his life with health issues surrounding a heart condition, which fought him at every turn. My dad was one of the most loving and personable men I have ever known. He left a legacy of perseverance in suffering and selfless love for his family and friends. He was, as his grave marker reads, “A loving father of three grateful children.”

My dad loved life and he loved his family, and while I did not know him well, I treasure what I do know about him and what he has taught me. After his death, the following poem, “Life,” was found in his personal belongings. I was made aware of this poem well after my love of poetry had developed and well after I had started writing poetry myself. I cannot help but believe I have received this love of poetry, and the ability to craft poetry, from my father.

Another treasure that I found in my dad’s Sr. yearbook was a quote by Owen Meredith beside his picture. This quote simply states, “Who knows nothing base, fears nothing known.” My dad’s courage, zeal for life and rejection of fear in the face of his own illness and hardships inspire me in the face of my own fears, insecurities and uncertainties. I treasure these gifts that my father has given me, even after his death. Discovering these treasures has been a continuation of knowing my father and growing in my relationship with him until I see him again in paradise.


He was hit!
He suffered
He wept inside
He died.
He never gave up.
Although he cried
He is man.

“Courage is afforded at a high cost but the reward is great.”

© William Pruitt

 William Pruitt Jr.'s (Bill's) college graduation photo

"Sir William Pruitt Jr.", photo by Uncle Charles H Burroughs Jr.

Dad on the front porch at 1216 Shirley Street in Columbia, SC

Me and Dad at my High School Graduation in 1995

William Pruitt Jr.'s Obituary from April 1998

Saturday, April 19, 2014

What the Moon Say

Moon, Photo by Moyan_Brenn, from Flickr

What the Moon Say
(From the roof of the then abandoned Olympia Mill)

I watched the moon from the roof of an old mill in the city.

Nightfall is near, time to disappear -
like the times and the people of this vacant scene.

The moon says, “I watched you when you were born,
I watched you live, and I will watch you when you die.”

The moon knows its course and it’s going to run it.

© 2001, Robbie Pruitt

This poem "What the Moon Say" is published as part of a collaborative work in the anthology "A Sense of the Midlands". This work was "Edited by Cynthia Boiter with poetry editor Ed Madden, A Sense of the Midlands anthologizes 33 Midlands area writers." (From the book's press release here)

Photo of the A Sense of the Midlands cover
and the launch invite from

I am excited to be a small part of this anthology, A Sense of the Midlands, and am very proud of the arts in my hometown, Columbia, South Carolina! The folks over at Muddy Ford Press and Jasper Magazine - The Word on Columbia Arts, are doing some great work promoting the arts and local artists in South Carolina!

My poem that is included in this work is What the Moon Say. This is an older poem, which I wrote from the rooftop of the old, and then abandoned, Olympia Mill back in 2001. I was bored one afternoon and was doing some “urban hiking,” when I found myself staring at a full moon in the evening hue from the roof of the old mill. The cityscape was before me and it was strikingly beautiful.

I thought about the moon that night and all that it has witnessed over the course of time and how it seemed to look down on the world with unspoken wisdom. Time sort of stood still and I thought, “This moon was here when we were born, it watches us live and it will be here when we die.” My next thought was getting off the roof of the mill before it was pitch-black dark.

Here is part of the press release and the invitation for the launch of A Sense of the Midlands:

The public is invited to celebrate the launch of A Sense of the Midlands on Saturday February 22nd from 5 – 7 pm at the Columbia Music Festival Association Art Space at 914 Pulaski Street in Columbia’s historic Vista. Admission is $15 which includes a copy of A Sense of the Midlands, admission to the reception from 5 – 6 during which authors will be available for signing, and admission to a reading from the book from 6 – 7. (Two attendees sharing a book will be admitted for $20.)

Read the entire press release for A Sense of the Midlands on Jasper Magazine’s website here.

Read about A Sense of the Midlands on Muddy Ford Press’s website here.

Buy your own copy of A Sense of the Midlands from here.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Simon of Cyrene

Simon of Cyrene carries the cross, 
photo by Damian Gadal, from Flickr

“As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.”   Luke 23:26

Simon of Cyrene

Barely carrying the weight of me,
In from the country and into the city,
I watched from the periphery,
Around noon on that day of doom.
Crosses were carried in the street.
The crowds cried aloud and chanted.
He fell at my feet.
From the weathered road His eyes met mine.
His compassion intertwined
With those who were to blame,
With my own guilt and shame,
And then, they called my name.
“You there! Pick up that cross.
It’s yours to bear.” I cannot stand,
Not under this weight of this command,
Nor take up this cross from His hand.
No burden this great had ever been born in Cyrene.
Never such a cruelty forlorn—never a thing so mean
—Never a thing this obscene.
The weight was lifted onto my shoulders,
And I too was mocked by the crowd and soldiers.
I was ashamed and He seemed to grow bolder.
He charged forward under great weight,
As if to carry the world—This I did not anticipate—
Me hunched over, as He stood straight.
His eyes set on that cruel Hill as time stood still.
He swayed gently at the fatigue and brutality.
Me with the tree and His face set on eternity.
Together we charged the hill with determination.
He would bring about the world’s salvation.
My task was but a gesture to appease Roman appeal,
But His burden and sacrifice was real. It would heal.

© April 17, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Thursday, April 17, 2014


Photo taken from the following website here

“Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. ‘Simon,’ he said to Peter, ‘are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” –Mark 14: 37-38


Asleep in the garden
We cannot pray
Nor wait up with You
Until the dawn of day
Weary, the flesh grows tired
The spirit wills under the weight
The blood drops on stone
As the sound of footsteps
Stop at the gate—We wait
Betrayal is at hand
From our slumber we stand
Your captors are here
We who take your life are near
In the shadows of night
As torch light flickers
Fear overcomes and settles in,
Swords are drawn, the trial begins
You are guilty of nothing—it is our sin
That stole You away, put You on trial,
And hung you from the cross that day

© January 11, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Blood Moon

 Blood Moon, photo by Gunn Shots (Mark Gunn)
from Flickr, Creative Commons

Blood Moon

The Blood Moon
Faded maroon
By Earth’s shadow
Its light dead
Colored red
Until the shadow is shed
And Light—
Once again spread

© April 15, 2014, Robbie Pruitt