RobertLaird
@robertcharleslaird.bsky.social
May all beings be happy & free. Retired high school and junior high English teacher after 44 yrs. Yogi, poet, literacy coach. Fitness, nutrition, active lifestyle, gym rat. Reiki practitioner. Be mindful, meditate, relax. Be content. Shih Tzu dad! So. CA
Pinned
a smooth slide
through this city,
midnight cocktails,
winding stale smoke,
density balancing frailty
on solemn, brassy truth;
and I hear for a while,
such craving stars pulling notes
from nightscapes unyielding,
kneading anew,
their timeless dreams,
and cool
midnight swagger,
through this city,
midnight cocktails,
winding stale smoke,
density balancing frailty
on solemn, brassy truth;
and I hear for a while,
such craving stars pulling notes
from nightscapes unyielding,
kneading anew,
their timeless dreams,
and cool
midnight swagger,
Even his first sentence has a middle school grammar error. "There has never been a president that has worked as hard as me." Correct: "...worked as hard as I have." Lame.
Calling the press “fake news” is harmful. Calling them “seditious, perhaps even treasonous” for publishing reporting is something else entirely. Treason is a capital crime. Suggesting journalists should face it for exercising their First Amendment rights and doing their jobs is dangerous.
December 12, 2025 at 3:46 AM
Even his first sentence has a middle school grammar error. "There has never been a president that has worked as hard as me." Correct: "...worked as hard as I have." Lame.
Reposted by RobertLaird
##FBaRmy #Bluestormcomin1 Help ACHIEVE ##NoDemUnder10k 🤴‼️✨️
To sign up just repost to help calculate!!
Ready!! SET!! REPOST!!
To sign up just repost to help calculate!!
Ready!! SET!! REPOST!!
December 6, 2025 at 7:04 PM
##FBaRmy #Bluestormcomin1 Help ACHIEVE ##NoDemUnder10k 🤴‼️✨️
To sign up just repost to help calculate!!
Ready!! SET!! REPOST!!
To sign up just repost to help calculate!!
Ready!! SET!! REPOST!!
Hello Blue Sky! I'd like to share: First, thank you to my new followers. I'm following all, & I'll include you soon, if I haven't yet. For days at a time, I receive no new followers & here I am today, with nearly a hundred or more. I'm honored to meet you! Does this happen to you? Odd or normal?
October 15, 2025 at 5:55 AM
Hello Blue Sky! I'd like to share: First, thank you to my new followers. I'm following all, & I'll include you soon, if I haven't yet. For days at a time, I receive no new followers & here I am today, with nearly a hundred or more. I'm honored to meet you! Does this happen to you? Odd or normal?
Reposted by RobertLaird
August turns September,
her days as leaves,
age beyond linger,
knowingly,
her heart, a gull on wing,
her song, we long remember
farewell in wind
to leaves set free,
like my heart,
or waves.
her days as leaves,
age beyond linger,
knowingly,
her heart, a gull on wing,
her song, we long remember
farewell in wind
to leaves set free,
like my heart,
or waves.
February 4, 2025 at 3:51 AM
August turns September,
her days as leaves,
age beyond linger,
knowingly,
her heart, a gull on wing,
her song, we long remember
farewell in wind
to leaves set free,
like my heart,
or waves.
her days as leaves,
age beyond linger,
knowingly,
her heart, a gull on wing,
her song, we long remember
farewell in wind
to leaves set free,
like my heart,
or waves.
Reposted by RobertLaird
Reposted by RobertLaird
He’s desperate for this to go away. Don’t let it..
July 14, 2025 at 3:50 AM
He’s desperate for this to go away. Don’t let it..
Reposted by RobertLaird
I remember you,
crimson shoreline,
September,
I imagine you,
as forever
you will be.
Imagine me,
an autumn wind,
returning waves.
crimson shoreline,
September,
I imagine you,
as forever
you will be.
Imagine me,
an autumn wind,
returning waves.
February 4, 2025 at 3:33 AM
I remember you,
crimson shoreline,
September,
I imagine you,
as forever
you will be.
Imagine me,
an autumn wind,
returning waves.
crimson shoreline,
September,
I imagine you,
as forever
you will be.
Imagine me,
an autumn wind,
returning waves.
Reposted by RobertLaird
I'll give
the missing
music, color, stars,
my soul in brushstrokes,
to complete
your unfinished portrait,
asleep
in my heart
the missing
music, color, stars,
my soul in brushstrokes,
to complete
your unfinished portrait,
asleep
in my heart
February 4, 2025 at 4:16 AM
I'll give
the missing
music, color, stars,
my soul in brushstrokes,
to complete
your unfinished portrait,
asleep
in my heart
the missing
music, color, stars,
my soul in brushstrokes,
to complete
your unfinished portrait,
asleep
in my heart
Reposted by RobertLaird
my jacaranda canopy,
a fairway to memory and melody
with endless limbs to climb
and August mornings forever
atop a purpled sidewalk
paved with sunshine, shadows,
and laughter,
our wee yellow house,
its corner windows peeking,
at robins and roses
and scented lavender clouds,
young songs in the sky
a fairway to memory and melody
with endless limbs to climb
and August mornings forever
atop a purpled sidewalk
paved with sunshine, shadows,
and laughter,
our wee yellow house,
its corner windows peeking,
at robins and roses
and scented lavender clouds,
young songs in the sky
February 3, 2025 at 7:14 AM
my jacaranda canopy,
a fairway to memory and melody
with endless limbs to climb
and August mornings forever
atop a purpled sidewalk
paved with sunshine, shadows,
and laughter,
our wee yellow house,
its corner windows peeking,
at robins and roses
and scented lavender clouds,
young songs in the sky
a fairway to memory and melody
with endless limbs to climb
and August mornings forever
atop a purpled sidewalk
paved with sunshine, shadows,
and laughter,
our wee yellow house,
its corner windows peeking,
at robins and roses
and scented lavender clouds,
young songs in the sky
Reposted by RobertLaird
upon
this most royal
lily pad,
one paisley fellow
reclines in song,
watching tangerine ripplets,
those practiced secrets
among silent swimmers,
as they press such pearly lips,
to dreams on the moon;
regal and pure
his melody,
fit for Heaven,
rising through
his crown of stars.
this most royal
lily pad,
one paisley fellow
reclines in song,
watching tangerine ripplets,
those practiced secrets
among silent swimmers,
as they press such pearly lips,
to dreams on the moon;
regal and pure
his melody,
fit for Heaven,
rising through
his crown of stars.
February 4, 2025 at 4:00 AM
upon
this most royal
lily pad,
one paisley fellow
reclines in song,
watching tangerine ripplets,
those practiced secrets
among silent swimmers,
as they press such pearly lips,
to dreams on the moon;
regal and pure
his melody,
fit for Heaven,
rising through
his crown of stars.
this most royal
lily pad,
one paisley fellow
reclines in song,
watching tangerine ripplets,
those practiced secrets
among silent swimmers,
as they press such pearly lips,
to dreams on the moon;
regal and pure
his melody,
fit for Heaven,
rising through
his crown of stars.
Reposted by RobertLaird
My midnight sojourn,
Avast, her moon's a-callin'
Aye, fairwinds to thee.
Avast, her moon's a-callin'
Aye, fairwinds to thee.
February 3, 2025 at 7:50 AM
My midnight sojourn,
Avast, her moon's a-callin'
Aye, fairwinds to thee.
Avast, her moon's a-callin'
Aye, fairwinds to thee.
Reposted by RobertLaird
This gross incompetent was on the Bingo Card. Along with a couple of others. Who's next in line? Bondi, Rubio? Lutnick, Kennedy? Hell, they're all bumbling half-wit jackasses.
April 25, 2025 at 5:05 AM
This gross incompetent was on the Bingo Card. Along with a couple of others. Who's next in line? Bondi, Rubio? Lutnick, Kennedy? Hell, they're all bumbling half-wit jackasses.
Reposted by RobertLaird
sometimes
a moment is golden
when one inner joy,
unique, fleeting,
stretches its limbs
from slumbering depths
to singular knowledge,
standing new,
awakened,
fresh in its own truth,
its heartbeat,
one simple recognition,
alone, unlocked
alive
a moment is golden
when one inner joy,
unique, fleeting,
stretches its limbs
from slumbering depths
to singular knowledge,
standing new,
awakened,
fresh in its own truth,
its heartbeat,
one simple recognition,
alone, unlocked
alive
February 4, 2025 at 3:24 AM
sometimes
a moment is golden
when one inner joy,
unique, fleeting,
stretches its limbs
from slumbering depths
to singular knowledge,
standing new,
awakened,
fresh in its own truth,
its heartbeat,
one simple recognition,
alone, unlocked
alive
a moment is golden
when one inner joy,
unique, fleeting,
stretches its limbs
from slumbering depths
to singular knowledge,
standing new,
awakened,
fresh in its own truth,
its heartbeat,
one simple recognition,
alone, unlocked
alive
Reposted by RobertLaird
empty echo,
butterfly wings,
hands open free,
in the wind you're gone,
and I breathe so deep,
reach only as far,
as empty
recalls.
butterfly wings,
hands open free,
in the wind you're gone,
and I breathe so deep,
reach only as far,
as empty
recalls.
February 4, 2025 at 7:35 AM
empty echo,
butterfly wings,
hands open free,
in the wind you're gone,
and I breathe so deep,
reach only as far,
as empty
recalls.
butterfly wings,
hands open free,
in the wind you're gone,
and I breathe so deep,
reach only as far,
as empty
recalls.
Reposted by RobertLaird
A Re Run
Up they drift,
like the joy in a song,
Notes, like wishes,
blending peace,
moonbeams,
stillness in breathing,
and up,
through the night to the moon,
where a breeze
exhales stars to Heaven,
and our dreams,
in new music,
return
as silence,
We sleep.
like the joy in a song,
Notes, like wishes,
blending peace,
moonbeams,
stillness in breathing,
and up,
through the night to the moon,
where a breeze
exhales stars to Heaven,
and our dreams,
in new music,
return
as silence,
We sleep.
February 13, 2025 at 9:36 PM
A Re Run
Reposted by RobertLaird
echoes, these echoes,
February solitude,
my gray frigid heart.
February solitude,
my gray frigid heart.
February 4, 2025 at 3:40 AM
echoes, these echoes,
February solitude,
my gray frigid heart.
February solitude,
my gray frigid heart.
Reposted by RobertLaird
In her golden years,
Bossie
was all about the surf...
The turf?
Not so much.
Her mantra:
Cowabunga!!
Bossie
was all about the surf...
The turf?
Not so much.
Her mantra:
Cowabunga!!
February 4, 2025 at 11:13 PM
In her golden years,
Bossie
was all about the surf...
The turf?
Not so much.
Her mantra:
Cowabunga!!
Bossie
was all about the surf...
The turf?
Not so much.
Her mantra:
Cowabunga!!