I was in a cave
Not that bright, not too dim
The water was shallow
But enough to swim
I held my head under
I could barely see
I started to choke
I could barely breath
A golden flounder
Caught my attention
It’s golden, it’s bright,
It was full of intention,
It guided its way from right to left
Missing out on rocks
Swimming into the depth
A golden flounder
Caught my attention
I rose my head up
Gazing at my reflection,
What was I doing
Where was I going
Little did I know
The golden flounder was watching

He
fished
a dream
in his sleep.
He caught a **** star.
For his cast had a lot of whip,
stretching his limit and rod as far as it can go.
When the rush of a bite sent him reeling he screamed for dear life as his catch jumped ahead.

Logan Robertson

1/14/2019

The Beech Grove

Last steps make no sound;
They superimpose on moist unstirred grass,
On a cold bright lane, shadow strewn.
Flanked by beech, destiny’s guard of honor,
Branches crowd in intangible, tangled glory.
Feet fall within a psychic landscape,
Bereft of earthly impact
Above wrenched-away Earth.


Dappled light dazzles
Those left to wait for unheralded end,
Smearing the screen of one born of silence.
A sight of earth displaced from sense;
Cold clarity. Gone absolutely.
The steps of the unbelonging
Walk an empty country lane-
An after dinner stroll that ends
In Another Place.

A lover's plea in winter

Please wait awhile.
Sheltered by the furrowed brow of winter
Heavy hanging from the eaves,
We’ll share hidden, stolen moments
Canopied by ochre leaves.
Clasp my pleading palm;
Mingling moist warmth with smiles.
Cast off burdens of care.
Let the crisp, crackle, crunch of ice
Accompany we who dare.

Do not think at all,
Indulge this moment to milk your heart.
Wallow in the wash of wishes won,
When succulent, ripe rapture
Spawns a love that’s ne’er undone.

Morning in Monnow Vale

Take my hand and let us walk awhile,
Together we’ll feel the dew- making breath of dawn
and greet the sun with grateful exultation.
We’ll hear Earth’s gentle verdant giant yawn
and wash our minds in birdsong mile by mile.
perchance a kiss will give love its affirmation
or else affection may be written in a smile.

I won’t clothe your hopes in easy promises
Or try to embody the essence of all that’s good.
You will know me and you will know the truth-
Oh yes. You may go. That much is understood.

Feel me, the very me inside of you;
Nothing more pure, no better than this could be.
These great moments the mundane betray.
Feel, feel life’s passion not cling to its debris!

The Enduring Joy

The joy of giving simply to others
Is given to those who heed the call.
When we give, the Light within us
Is shared to feed the Light in all.

She was borne at dawn, in a tent, on a rooftop
Her moon like eyes reflected lightening the way mirrors brutally reflects imperfections
Her tiny hands had engraved palmar creases that spelled “strength”
Her smile was the rarest of sapphires and to dishonesty her heart was stealth
She grew up longing for the day she leaves her tent to face the world
Every night she goes to sleep to watch her dreams unfold
She dreams of lions speaking of fear
roaming around like clouds
A sword and a torch appear in her tiny hands
“I will defeat you” she says
But she wakes up! …
Only with warm tears blocking her eyesight … …
She used the torch to seal the tent closed
And the sword to cut herself a tiny window
From which she could look out
convincing herself that … this way … she can safely face the world!
So, she stays …
In the tent … on the rooftop …