My bread basket filled
with bread and wine,
and I hope yours is, too,
as I, we, stroll into 2018
hand in hand,
in love,
in joy,
in communion with nature,
with each other,
and Christ.
My hearts now open.
My eyes to the top of the mountains,
the blue skies,
the Heavens,
the journey.
I awe.
This New Year,
I start at the bottom,
with many forks to choose.
For the many winding trails,
faith of trees, and under bushes,
I look for prayer
and Christ.
And His Guidance.
It was a cold January morning.
The first of many to come,
frost of winter biting at my feet,
escaping my lips,
and snow flurries at my knees.
I zest.
Paying homage,
as birds sing in my hearts
and blossoms dance in my eyes.
So glorious
with Christ in my soul.
My feet on the right trail,
I continue to awe,
trees draped in white,
for my guided path.
Snow tracks of the past I bury.
Fresh new tracks,
I forge.
My eyes and mind focus.
A deer locks my eyes and darts away,
a pair of rabbit make a beehive home,
all in wonderment,
all in longevity and immortality,
perhaps signage.
So glorious.
The landscape,
and the ascent.
It was a cold January morning.
the first of many to come.
I warm to the task.
I continue to look at the peak,
I awe,
blue skies,
the Heavens.
I bow to this New Year,
Christ, peace, happiness, wealth
and good health.
To all a blessed 2018.

Logan Robertson

His face is shallow
with little life
No shine
within his eyes
that once glisten with life
A smile that brought life
to your eyes
Bringing my heart alive

His spark has dimmed

Love slips through our fingers
as age creeps in

My hollow man is made
of stone
His heart aches for yesterdays youth
When life was kinder to his smile

Crumbling to stone

Heavy weights seem to be
upon our souls
Struggling to breathe
Breaking free
To have one more flight
for our souls to soar

A dance of life
Laughter in our souls

We've come so far to gather life
among the stones
The weight of the world weighs
upon our love
As our hearts slowly turn to stone.

By Weeping willow
Just words of emotions
Logan Robertson Dec 2017
i'm sitting at a bar
one beer, two, another
through the window of time
monkeys look in
and laugh
how can i blame them
they ask if i want a banana
i laugh
i pause
i tell them my tongue slipped once
slipped on a banana peel
my tongue went to war
with all my loves
once, twice, another
and all my loves
all my loves in my life ran away
women that i adore
i look back at the monkeys
they scratch their heads
they're bored
they rise from a drought
dying of thirst
or are they dying of my story
so much for having no poker face
reminds me of all the women in my life
an open book
for me my eulogy
i order the monkeys  drinks
once, twice, another
my phantom friends
my phantom dialogue
the window of time creaks open wider
its a jungle out there
and i fell on a banana peel
theres a scar
and i sit
looking at the past
the open window
talking to myself
i'm sorry

Logan Robertson

Logan Robertson Dec 2017
Dear Santa

all i want for Christmas is a penny lover
a women that enjoys the small things in life
the lincolns instead of the benjamins
thrift instead of trendy
peanut butter instead of steak
my bottom shelf written poems instead of polish
the small things in life, Santa
the small things
is that too much to ask for
your gift to me
sans the star spangled spangled
the fireworks
the silver, glitter and confetti
i would endear
can you help me Santa
i dream
i dream real
a simple snowfall
me with her on the bunny trail
doing the bunny hop
later sharing a hot cocoa
borrowing heat, and time
Santa in my dream
i can see my mirror
a pincher
a thinker
wrapped pretty
maybe in ancient ski gear and attire
but together
and maybe in love
santa, in retrospect
i ask for a lot
because my heart would be filled
Merry Christmas

Logan Robertson

Logan Robertson Dec 2017
she saw sea shell standalone,
sandy shore,
standing sentry,
sweet songs
sharing soul,
soothing silver skies,
stark sands,
silhouetted silence,
spanning sea swells,
sea stars,
salted scenery,
seeing self

Logan Robertson

Here's a lone women with a sunny outlook similar to that of a lone seashell. She sees
the gravitation pull a seashell faces, forces of nature, which parallels to her life, a life that is resigned to forces of nature filled with regret and resignation ... hence her environs, too, salted and bitter.
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