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  Jan 2019 Logan Robertson
Seema
Catch me if I fall
Answer me if I call

Love me if I show
Protect me wherever I go

Miss me if I leave
Return a kiss to please

Cheer me if I am sad
Leave me, when I am dead

With you I'd like to live
My life to you, I give

Coz you are the key to my heart
And I am not planning to depart


©sim
An old write.
  Jan 2019 Logan Robertson
Seema
(I)
A word unspelt
The words unsaid
A wrong turn again
It may be bad
From one end to another
The evidence makes no sense
There could be another way
Why feel tensed
The heavy clouds will soon fade
And moon will give us the way
It's gotta be somewhere
Not so far away
Whoever has laid hands on
The buried old scripts
Have gone missing
On their adventurous trips
What is in it,
That one craves to find
Is it a treasure map
Or a portal of any kind
I feel it isn't a good idea
To join this group of five
It is still time
To run and be alive

But wait...

What is that noise, I hear
The other five lanterns
Seem to have disappeared
Like being swallowed
By some form of evil
I may be wrong, coz am quite behind
To even reach the grounds
Where, burried are those scripts
And a curse that bounds
I decided not to continue
Any further and put my life in danger
So I waited for day break
And that's when, I met a stranger...

(II)

An unusually dressed figure
That like of an ancient priest
With a hood covering
Emerging, from behind the trees
May be, he is one of the five
But how can I be sure
As the figure looked strange
Or perhaps, trying to lure
I sat next to a big rock
Keeping my eyes fixed
A sudden brush of winds
And the place seem to be mixed
I blinked to clear my view
Of that of dirt and dust
Pieces of rags flew
In the wildly gust
Intoxicating scent caught my senses
And I seemed to be drowning
From below my feet
Hours later, opening my eyes
On a hard solid ground
Surrounded by
Unearthly or earthy crowd?

(III)

Whispers of death
Rang in my ears
Blurred vision gave way
To my crouching fears

Where am I?

Above the ground of below
Is it my grave
Or a tomb
Like cave
Dim lights sprawl
As I try to stand
The ground suddenly shakes
And on my chest, I land

Is it my end?

Glitters and shine
From the passing ray of lights
A graveyard of buried treasures
Below many heights
It, definitely must be a dream
Yet, I can still feel
The chill of hovering death
Crawling beneath my heels
I dare not look down
To scream my head out
So I slowly, crawled
Towards the faint light
From where I heard the strangers call
Standing slowly,
not to disturb the peace
I followed the voice
That led among the trees...

(IV)

The moon was bright
And I felt the cold breeze
Brushing enough
For my ears and nose to freeze
Then a voice cracked
Of that of an old man

"he who bares no greed,
shall walk free",
"he who dares to steal,
shall be buried alive"


The stranger -

Your life is spared
From the cursed wrath
Your soul is pure
In the eyes of death
You lack the ingredient
That most posses
So have perished
And left lifeless
It is the greed
That is cursed in a being
Thus, all five got buried
With their share and sin
You walk free unharmed
Return to your people
And let them know
Whoever walks through
The path in search of scriptural treasure
Shall be cursed and buried
Within the treasure

And I, blink -

Far from the place
As I was in the night
Back to my senses
Welcoming day light
Life of mine is precious
That no penny or treasure
Can ever buy
Who wants to live a cursed life
And live behind their lies
I lack the seed
Of greed
That I don't intend to plant
I shall read
And educate
On how harmful, is this
Greed...


©sim
Spilling imagination. A story poem.
  Jan 2019 Logan Robertson
Seema
Talk of those tales, that race my heart
And thrills my feelings
Those that of, passionate moments
Spent in each others arms
The sunset and the slow sipping of
Our favorite wine
Eyes locked in few instances
That speak of thousand thoughts
The lips genuinely invites a gentle kiss
Over and over
While you keep your gaze fixed on me
Embracing the blushy look on my face
And breaking it into a joke
An unbelievable feeling of closeness erupts
Yet, both content on their motion
Soon, letting the emotions flow
Our lips met each other
A hot vibe ran into my veins
And I was taken deeper into trance
Getting a hold onto, I ****** myself off
Only to find, him drunk drolled on the counter
With my hand in his grip
Whispering...
Thank you, Santa..

©sim
;-)
  Jan 2019 Logan Robertson
Noah
Golden laurel wreaths and golden wings
Crows that pecked at his eyes and legs
He had stopped fighting them off long ago
They were as integral part of him as the the tattoos on his spine that often nipped at his vertebrae

Koi fish with constellations glowing on their backs and lotuses growing out of eyes
Burning feathers steaming as they hit the waves
He had often watched the angel's fall
Many drowned when they sunk into the sea Wings of precious metals dragging them down into its depths

Bushes made of butterflies and trees held in the palms of scarred hands
Glowing leaves the only source of light in the dark world
He craved the brilliance of the sun
It's mighty beauty as it scorched the earth and dried the sea
Purging it of its demons

Glasses filled with moonbeams and dresses crafted from stars
Diadems of melted bones and cremated hearts
He watched from above them all
Burning the wings of butterflies and smoking cigarettes made from their ashes
Sweet smelling smoke drifting high into the void
  Jan 2019 Logan Robertson
yosemite
what sad little fish
had lost faith in the ocean
and swam to the shore
written in rustico journal 4 january 2019
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