The Poetry of Robert Hensel

Robert M. Hensel was born in Rota, Spain in 1969. Currently a resident of Oswego, NY, he is a freelance International poet-writer, with over 500 Publications under his belt. Some of his most recent publishing credits are as follows: New York Review, Indie Journal, Picture & Word, Vermont Living magazine, The Genesis Project 2000, Fresh Literary magazine, The Australian Poetic Society, and Head in the clouds: Christian Literary magazine.

Robert also serves as an Advocate for the disabled, an on going effort to better the rights of every disabled American. On Oct 1st of 2000 Robert was honored with having the Mayor of his home town declare a week for the disabled, in his name. This week is to display the many accomplishments the disabled have achieved in the world today, which has been called, "Beyond Limitations Week."

In his own words, "May the words that flow between two lines, connect us to a world of peace."

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The Poetry of Robert Hensel

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"The Poet" Words flow onto paper like rain, forming giant rivers of unseen lands. The very force guides us along a journey that holds of great adventure. We are the explorers of the literary world. We must find the courage to write what others are unable to, with the greatest of passion. A poet dreams, and then must portray his visions upon the page that lies before him. It is the beauty of all things that inspires us to communicate in such a way. A man does not wake up one day, and decide to become a poet. It must live in the very blood that courses through his veins. He is the creator of a world, only he has known. He is the actor and director of all that speaks out through his pen. He is a man of all men, visionary of all visionaries. What you haven't seen, he has. What you can't say, he can. For he is the poet. Peace of Mind Carry me out the ocean, where my drifting thoughts flow free. Guide them to a far distant land, that only the mind can see. There I shall paint a great portrait, of what this world should be. A place without senseless wars, and human poverty. Poetry At Play A poem is but a thought, a mere memory caught at play. One's visions reenacted, by the passing of each day. Treasured waking moments I've accumulated along the way, shall be locked within these pages, where they're forever bound to stay.