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I wish to freeze time
right now
and here
to this moment
of you
holding
me near.
always within your arms
forever
to be
feeling this beautiful love
of you
and me.                                  
a connection so strong
an embrace
so tight                                    
to love you forever
every day                                  
every night
it’s not hard to see
my tears
are
of love
silky and soft                                          
like
the
feather
of                                        
a dove                                        
our life of hopes and dreams
has just
begun                                              
our journeys entwined
became                                              
as one                                            
now walking hand and hand
in love                                            
and happiness                                                
my heart overflowing
in this                                                              
feeling
so glorious.                                                                                                                
~
I love the silence of the night
my head upon your chest,
as I listen to you breathe
you deep, in peaceful rest.

The passion of us in the air
stays a sweet memory,
the love which we have shared
in all of its beautiful glory.

Observing your eyelids dance
of the dreams filling your mind,
I wonder how sweet they are
and the delight in them you find.

I could live this moment every night
lost in such loving content,
thanking the stars of heaven itself
for this beautiful love, I've been sent.
Her orchards I often dream,
buries of my eye,
lost in my fairy book
of beaten pages,
of sunken tears and of mind.
I kept turning the pages, racing,
racing,
looking for her,
between the lines,
now gone,
gone ... are those
lovely high hanging trees,
elegant and so berried,
swaying and smiling,
her,
her saintly smile,
haunting,
yet shadowing me forever
in my mind.
Each page turned, a sad tear falls
deep and deeper,
for the pages are blank.
Her absence ferreting out
blackness,
skeletons and silhouettes,
the pages turning,
weeping ...
my heart pains
for the book of love
unwritten and unfinished.
The wishing well of ink unspent.
Her essence forever corked
from my heart ...
I now lay arrest,
peas in a pod,
aberration and distortion,
for
lovely those high hanging trees,
elegant and so berried,
gone.
Sullenly the music plays
to a different song.
Indelible was happenstance,
our chance encounter,
a special one at that,
puzzlement lays a longer shadow
... of why she walked,
without any words.

Logan Robertson

11/09/17
 Nov 2017 G Rog Rogers
L B
What She Look Like?
  
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--

out!

at all guilty ******* in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….

Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off

to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame

Rising
yellow, bright— and

“What the hell happened, here?!”

____


Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…

if you watch a while—

She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight

…and then you might…

___

She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_____

...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks

Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her
Only male robins do the singing; females do the choosing.  

There are very few recent  photos of me.  Thus this poem.
I deeply desire a trip to the sea
Waves crashing, well,
They are just a part of me
Like a finch
To a seed
My craving is for my
Toes in the sand
The sun setting
In grandeur
The shore
My heart
Land
Life,
for a decent,
empathetic,
good-hearted person,
is heartachingly,
painstakingly beautiful;
for, even in torment,
underlying beauty
is often found...

Such a brave heart,
to withstand
such emotional destruction -
whilst their internal tears
are left to bounce
off the floor
of this soul's
shaky, unstable ground.

~ Brave Heart

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Nov 2017 G Rog Rogers
Cné
Kiss
 Nov 2017 G Rog Rogers
Cné
"The Kiss" in marble
of Rodin's work
embraces art with passion.
Ovid wrote of kisses
back when "amor"
was in fashion.
To capture
such a moment
in marble or in verse,
is beautiful
but can't refine
the taste
when lips immerse.
In meditation,
I close my eyes
on kisses
I remember.
of hot August nights
in sultry heat
or amid a fireplace
in December...
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