Robert C. Price

There’s something unique, intimate and deep about a poet–when I read poems, I’m always amazed at how courageous poets are because often times, what they write is so personal. This is true of Robert C. Price. I always look forward to his posts as his works come right from the heart and because of that, they have the potential to touch readers.

I was so pleased when he accepted to be featured on Dropped Pebbles and I hope that you will feel as lucky as I do be have been given this window into a poet’s soul. Welcome Robert C. Price. 


About Robert in his own words…

In grades 4th through 6th, I’d write all the time. Comic books, TV shows and movies fueled my stories to no end. It took me out of the confines of Philadelphia. It gave me freedom. By the 7th grade, girls and hip-hop occupied my mind..

The beginnings of Rap music excited me. I related to the artists and the culture. They spoke about my environment and my issues. It gave me a new way to express myself through music.

After high school, I moved to South Florida, started college and tried to get my music career off the ground.

I didn’t so well, but my talent for writing helped me create songs for a female rapper named Sista Malika. She tried to get a deal and I wrote lyrics about empowerment, respect and dignity. The female perspective explained to the masses by a man. How Ironic?

Sadly, my tenure as a lyricist ended with no fame or glory. I didn’t write as much after that. Occasionally, I’d start a story, but wouldn’t finish it. One day I just stopped.

Years later, a co-worker introduced me to I never bothered with traditional poetry. There was no interest at all until I read the sincere poems written by ordinary people. Some rhymed, but most were Free Verse. That style stuck out the most. My creativity awoke to a new fire burning deep within. I started writing poems and stories again; only to stop, once more, due to kidney disease.

In 2010, I received a new kidney. I thanked God for my second chance, but it didn’t help with the guilt I felt for getting it. I went through a mild depression where writing was the farthest thing from my mind. I fought my way out of it and came back to what I love to do. No more delays, only determination and focus.

I chose I Can’t Speak because it was the first poem I wrote for It’s just a guy professing his admiration for one woman.

                                                            I Can’t Speak

Something in my mind has me intrigued

The very existence of your presence has me

Encapsulated that my thoughts are not of

My own accord

I have been possessed by moronic moans and

Ill thought concepts.

I can’t speak

My inability to form a sentence is caused by

One thing and one thing only

I can’t stand to be around you

I can’t stand to look in those eyes and see truth

To hear your voice is like water trickling down a mountain

I hang on every word

I float on syllables of my name being uttered from your lips

You make me weak with no disregard and reckless abandonment

That I can’t help but fall for your magic

Release me from your spell so that I may

Regain my intelligence and not be one

Of many who have lost their minds with you

I have three children; two boys and a daughter named Faith. I wrote a poem about my sons called The Generation of Better which you can check out on my blog. The one below called Faith I wrote looking at her dance around the house without a care in the world. She’s always happy, which more of us should be.


I look at you and see hope

Braids and long legs

With Hello Kitty as

Your best friend

Energy boundless

Charging your Twinkle Toes

Until they blink like Christmas


Against the sun baked


Ballet pirouettes

Leaping through the air

And Angelina Ballerina

Bowing to your greatness

My love for you is infinite

Beyond universes yet to

Be discovered

Somehow I feel small

Compared to your love

For me

A love unconditional

And so great that

I feel unworthy to

Even receive it

You were the missing

Piece from my heart

That laid cold and


I can’t imagine not seeing

Your smile

As you glide across the


And hug me with no

Questions asked

Melting the troubles of

A blue day

Granting me solace

You’re happy just to be


Oh how I miss those

Young carefree days

Your presence bring

Back memories

When it was ok to

Laugh and not care

When the time comes

That I no longer slay the


No longer fight the demons

I pray that I have taught

You well

Given you the keys to


And made you strong enough

To call on your Daddy

When need be

The last one is quite personal. It’s about my father. We had a complicated relationship with unresolved feelings. He passed away in ’99 and not a day goes by that he doesn’t cross my mind. I wrote this for me and all the other sons and daughters out there that has had the same experience. Sometimes you got to write about it.


My father was something

Of a thug

A man bent on being

Something other than


A two-gun toting storm

Of inconsistencies

Who didn’t know what

He wanted

Kicked out of junior high

But smarter than anyone there

Spent his life readin’ and writin’

And fightin’ some ghost on

His mind

Spoiled rotten as a kid

Grandma was to blame

Grew up as a man

Expecting the world

To give him his due

Taught himself piano

Could play like Errol Garner

Banged on those keys like

Beating the devil to the mat

Married my sister’s mother

Treated her less than hospitable

Did most of his dirty work

In the cover of night

Left them for the Big Apple

Bright lights and false fame

Mesmerized by dice games

3 card molly and the like

Came back to Brotherly Love

Cuz grandma needed him

Met my mother

All four eleven of her

Had more heart than

Any hoodlum could stand

Then came me

Born in the house of Cancer

First male progeny

Became the namesake

The heir apparent

Of something I wasn’t

Made to be

My pop called me strange

Peculiar in essence

I had no desire

To live up

To his presence

I may have his name

But I’m me

He didn’t understand my


Or why I wasn’t him

He never did understand

Not even on his deathbed

And I wasn’t there when

He succumbed to death’s


I wanted to be there

But it was fast and


Too late for him

Too late for me

I loved him

Even when he

Didn’t understand

How to contact Robert:



Writing Blog:

Facebook Page:

I hope you enjoyed getting to know Robert and his poems. Please check out his blog and take the time to enjoy his other wonderful poems. And take a moment to let him know how much you appreciate his work.


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