Today I sit and think about words. They are hesitant.
I am at a deficit of emotions to harness and understand.
Other poets ring true and sound curious.
Is it so difficult? A plane sounds overhead. Maybe
passing my thoughts in those clouds, full of rain and
judgement. A bolt of lighting could strike at any moment
and threaten the serenity of which my mind hallucinates.

Opaque skies of grey
Wounded thoughts mix with raindrops.
A storm approaches

I sit at my table and chair. I am content in my solitude. My laptop calls for me. Oh the hustle and bustle of our society requires us to be present at all times. There is no time to dawdle. Even on free days, we check emails and rush to beat the morning traffic while running errands. I look out the window. There is a daisy where leaves usually grow. A new sign of life. Invigorating and riveting for me to observe.

Why should I worry
at the much unexpected?
Unpredictable
The definition of life
only to be forgotten

I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. Many thoughts running through my mind, most of them questions to the void. Would I finish my work in time? Would I ever try to catch a falling fork again? Would I crash on the way to pick him up? Would my heart skip a beat when I saw him? Would I be able to get everything done today? I was hoping everything would work out wonderfully, but I wasn’t going to lose to the reality of the situation. He was coming to see me from afar. I was coming to get him. Passion was the motivation. Love was the reason. I was in pain, but it didn’t stop me from my destination. I was going to see him for the first time in 11 months. That was reason enough to ignore my emotional unstable state of being.


From the sky, my love descended. He traveled from a far to lovingly look into my eyes.

I was travelling to the place where I come from. The anniversary of my grandmother slapping a nun, otherwise known as my mother’s birthday, was a day away. I lost myself in the groove of my earphones to substitute my lost car radio. Suddenly, as if attacked by an imaginary beast, a strange sound could be heard beyond my earphones. My wind rider also became harder to control, so I let it come to a stop on its own. I investigated my chariot of transportation and discovered that I was now unable to go further. I was stuck between two cities and not close enough for me to walk for assistance. A kind strange happened by and helped me in my dilemma. I am very grateful to him. Because of his generosity, I was able to continue on my journey.

I was driving my van
When my tire exploded
I had no spare
So I was stuck there
Between Tuscaloosa and Centreville.
I was lucky that man
Happened to turn around.
It was a blessing.

When I was growing up in Wisconsin, dairy farms were everywhere.  It was always fun visiting my aunt and uncle's dairy farm, even though they put me to work.  For many years the only bathroom they had was away from the house!  I read an article today about people complaining about smells coming from dairy farms and pig farms.  It reminded me when our family would drive the 3 1/2 hours to visit Grandma and Grandpa.  Some farms hardly had any bad odor, but others reeked!  This was especially horrible to us city kids.  "Mom, what's that smell?" my sisters and I would ask every time.  We asked Mom because she'd answer us.  Dad would only laugh.  Good times!  

Midwest dairy farms
intermittent putrid stench-
fun childhood road trips

The Elephants At The Zoo

The elephants at the zoo, lumbering in their cells, like deadwood floating downstream, where the mouth is closed. When kids arrive they put on a show. It brings them minute happiness to see the smiles, hear the laughter and to look into the eyes of freedom.


As the day moves on, it's a blur, as the sunny disposition is weathered and fake. Each movement of the trunks, calculated, silenced and each passing face, a tear.


Such sadness their eyes
Windows wide open to see
Pantomimes of hope


Logan Robertson

9/16/2019

In the shadows of the acorn tree, watching the squirrels race around gathering acorns. Their busy little hands rotating them, examining each acorn. Hoarding them, even brawling with other squirrels for access to the best trees. Daring acrobats that risk life and limb to collect them from the willowy ends of branches.

Trees full of acorns
daring acrobat squirrels
hoards little brown nuts

ALesiach © 07/28/20187

Cuddled in bed au naturel, legs twisted around that sculpted waist, I smell the english rose in the silky strands of your hennaed hair. But it’s his vetiver-tinged cologne sprawled over your swan-like neck which suffocates me.

An empty pack of Marlboro, after our hurried twist under the satin sheets,  is all that remains. Your distracted eyes during that last puff give it away. It’s our love that will go up in smoke.

continental drift
engineered by stealthy time ~~
shards of broken glass


© 2019

The pickups across the alley seem asleep. No lights, exhaust fumes, man at the wheel ready to wheel into another work day.
Winter-denuded trees blend into his roof like dark rivulets from its peak. No lights in this dawning Saturday, all still asleep.
Except the birds feasting in the newly seeded bird feeder. In the softness of this new dawn their flights are silent.

The fog shrouded morning suffuses softness to hard edges.  Clapboard storage unit rests quietly on the edge of the lawn.
Rakes, mowers, hoes still asleep, no work tension in their bodies. Fallen browned leaves lay on still-green lawn gently carpeting “the back.”
Cold black fingers of tiny limbs indistinguishable as individuals, smudged and blending instead. No limber bending till months-away spring.

Trees in the distance surrender their stark names to clouded sky not yet brightened by the distant weakened sun. The fog has laid upon this place
a muted harmony.  No dissonant horns or voices heard in this diffused snooze of now.  The only movement: from the winged creatures
greeting the day just yards away reminding: life still pulses. I fall into this peace.

The fog of sleep
a hallway moment away
where my self is mellowed
and lost beneath the sheets.