Nothing scares me anymore.
I have been hurt to the core,
Hated by so many people,
For the spoils of my hustle.

I have lived in darkness,
And experienced sadness,
Waddled in disappointments
Victimized by false statements.

I have seen evil humans
Been attacked by demons.
One thing that's certain,
I will never ever give in.

Like the wet monsoon rains
And old locomotive trains,
My lines are uniquely powerful.
And for this, I remain grateful.

In spite of my misfortunes,
My name's not on these gravestones.
Like the mighty balboa tree
I stand strong and free.

IB-Poetry ©
15/12/2018

The wind blowing
Flowers of all kinds
Throwing them into a beautiful dance;
Soft petals and rose blossoms
Creating sweet scents
Inviting bumblebees and other buzzy creatures
To help them live

every so often
they threw the seal a fish
though it was only a small fish
the seal would jump for joy
he would wiggle his fins
his nose, his eyes
his space coming alive
and from his landing
he would dive into the water
with the youthfulness of a pup
diving after that little silver
like it was for the first time
his eyes wider than the moon
as he streaked across the pool
with pent up
exuberance
so graceful
and in rhythm
his back to the spectators
but not really
as his moon peeks through
the surface
back towards the smiles
the cheers, the applause
it meant the world to him
receiving
the acceptance
and acknowledgment
the likes, the love
the words from the butterflies
descending on his blooms
for
he sees and hears
feels their touches
his splashes of fate
leaving his face golden
and beholden
in the face of sorrow
he circles back to the surface
pockets of bubbles rising
like his love for the audience
that little silver
wiggles of his daily grace
now his sustenance
his nose, his eyes
his shrill coming alive
and now back at his landing
animated
and blessed
his moon shining at the spectators
and in all sincerity
he lets out an arf, arf, arf
intonations
and sublimity
dancing in the moonlight
thankyou

Logan Robertson

10/14/2018