• About me

    My name is Rob Skidmore and my wife is Corryn.

    In December I graduated from Brigham Young University with a B.A. in English and joined the ranks of the unemployed.

    I enjoy writing, you can find some of my stories and poems on this blog.

    I also ran track for BYU. I was in great shape until my appendectomy over the summer. Now I am just a skinny white guy with great form and decent muscle tone who gets winded jogging from my front door to the mailbox.

    I am going to be a first time daddy in May. It's a boy. We have a name. We aren't telling.

    I like reading; mostly short stories, they fit my attention span.

    If you like my perspective on stuff feel free to follow this blog, join me on Twitter, or add me on Facebook.

    I work for Infogenix as a SEO Content Writer. If you are interested add me on LinkedIn. I have mad writing skills.

  • Join 10 other followers

  • Categories

  • Recent Posts

  • Advertisements

My First Published Poem

Inscape, BYU’s literary journal, accepted one of my poems. For some reason the entire issue is not available online so I will include it here.


They say she left the home of God

a cataclysm of wild hair and one syllable words

They say she leapt the salt spray of rolling swells

and alighted in a mess on her pillow

They say she paid eight turtles and a conch shell

for a fist full of sand

They say she went into the dark

and told it to fly through her plaited braids

They say time slips through her hourglass figure

and accumulates on her stone tile floor



into a shallow depression

The small of your back
is an oasis
of warm skin

My mouth is bitter
dry swollen tongue
poisoning from the inside

My ears are coffee filters
keeping the dregs
of offhand remarks

I understand
The small of your back
is an oasis

My heart rests
in radiated heat
the soft hum
of your wavery voice
on sandy shores

First Kiss

snow was a glowing halo

by streetlamp
we spoke in whispers
silence shouted
a touch
a tingling in my fingertips

Who Made Us Delicate?

Walking a knifes edge biting flesh
grating bone on cold steel

In a harsh light
shining from somewhere
we are blind

In a black expanse
we cant tell
depth or breadth
reaching out
breathing clouds
in the cold

All we feel
the weight of ourselves
pressure on skin
before it parts
the dull sting

The New Angels

eyes a wide aperture    

                 This is a picture
         of my Grandma

             This is where I was

When everything is washed-out

white is whole
         like the new angels

                         when she died
       in the mountains

Why do we dream in monochrome

                    I remember vivid
        the mountains
                       the tangy pine

             only the new angels see as is
as we are still
         dreaming in earth tones

                          how close I felt
                  how far she was

sleeping in dust and clay