(“Dark Pool Nebula”, 2011, original oil)
Different Worlds
I travel to different worlds in my dreams,
In my mind, even day by day
With different aspects of my self
In this one body.
As I get older I see we all live in different worlds,
Determined by what we believe, how we are raised,
And what we learn.
Sometimes we can stand on the same street corner
And be in totally different worlds as we chat.
Some people know all about this
And some are totally clueless,
Yet still we are all in our own world.
Is this a problem that needs to change?
I don’t think so
It is just the nature of things
The nature of having a mind
Especially so with an independent mind.
So maybe it is good the way things are.
What is bad is trying to change this
Trying to make everyone conform.
But how would it be if a fish thought itself
A bird, or a bird a fish,
Or a man a woman, or a human a god?
Some things are just not meant to be.
And so I travel to different worlds
In my dreams and in my mind,
And as I become more familiar
The worlds become more wonderful.
(9/15/25)
This was utterly stunning
Held on the petals tongue
Twisted Machiavellian
Acid rain in neon-lit carmine
Ineffable lyrics: sum41
Grapevine entwined the mead mind
Rapid rhyme mainline propane
Fuse-lit C4-paint-explosives
Interpretation may vary
Melting behind every word
Jellyfish pulsing through
Pushed unexplored avenues
Stork dropping off an award
Blues scale toward the top
Fingertips slide without warning
Solo-bass drop within drumsticks
Dripping water from a flask
Walking hexes cloudy dishes
Mirrors fractured pieces whirling
Framing fractal front seats
Past mistakes remembrance
Olive branches infect organs
Pulse systematically
Pixels dissolve surfaces
Birthing surreal fantasy
Most bypass the shadow throat,
That world of swallowed measures,
Illusion of a distance —
The ceiling just as close as heaven.
Cogito ergo sum —
All else does cease to be,
My breath the last life whisper,
My memories the library.
In bowels of night’s leviathan,
The sun forgets she ever was,
Disciples sleep to spurn the moon,
Ruling by Medieval laws.
Discerning shadows lost —
Of space and logic gone —
Until returns the bursting dawn,
And christens hay fields, harvest gold.
shadows are running
breaking bones under foot.
arm twisting branches snap
smearing their scent on contact.
resin oozes as blood,
the pungent sap tickles my nose hairs.
a rustling voice whispers movement.
the fresh earthen breath kisses mine.
my eyes peer into the hidden darkness
as I start peeling the shadows, but
stop my curiosity from going further.
crepuscular rays slice into the woods
verifying our little girl’s nightmares.
grandma’s kiss on my forehead
sets me upright, in bewilderment.
Frozen in Time
For seventy years and counting,
Every photograph and every newsreel,
Every home movie and every video,
I feature distantly frozen in time.
Millions if not billions of images,
I am invisible but none the less there.
Yes, I am seen in the family album,
Snapshots of change growing older.
My fascination lies in the background,
Ever present but rarely in sight.
Lurking in the shadow of others,
Is this too deep, what does it mean.
Still
photos
suggest movement
and story
and memory~
as do words
on a page~
but both words
and photos
are never other than
Still~
Stillness speaks~~
I walked through storms with nothing but fire,
Dreams grew heavy, but lifted me higher.
ALL MY SHADOWS BECAME TEACHERS OF LIGHT,
I turned my bruises into courage at night.
I carried burdens that bent my back,
Still built bridges where the ground was crack.
BENEATH THESE HILLS, MY ROOTS HELD STRONG,
Even in silence, my spirit sang long.
The world tried caging what I could be,
But destiny whispered: “Fred, you are free.”
COURAGE REQUIRES WOUNDS TO FIND ITS SONG,
I wore the pain and still walked on.
From protector to leader, I carved my name,
Through trials and scars, I mastered the game.
DESTINY IS WRITTEN IN UNSEEN HANDS,
Yet I rise daily, to claim my own lands.
I AM THE ARCHITECT OF MY OWN CAGE,
Building freedoms eternal, from age to age.
To Rewind or Pause Life
Most people are confused as to which one
Others may want to try it out just for fun
If there's any pain involved either one could hurt
Correcting any mistakes that we want to revert
Who in there right mind wouldn't want to rewind the good times
To meditate on the good things and taking stress off our minds
The pause button would be good for making a decision
The world can be an audience with your life on television
By pressing rewind we would all get a do over
Giving our drunken minds a chance to think sober
Both of these words can't win because its an equal fight
That's why we don't have the option to Pause or Rewind life
the
green
dragontail
moth
with
her
wings
that
flutters
through
the
air
yet
made of cloth
is
God's creation
An eerie stillness enshrouds,
the street I lodge in,
lone shadows loiter and lounge,
dark ink creatures peep
wet croak from a gaunt hermit,
slumped on granite bench,
faint cry from flitting figures
estranged by night chill
A song is a poem
With rhythms and rhymes
It would be a blasphemy
Not to say it and explain it.
A song is a prose
Put on pause
Intermittently
With various beats and tempos.
A song makes you dance
A poem makes you dream
And a prose helps us examine.
A poem is a classical prose
With harmonic words
And well-calculated rhymes and verses
A poem is really fantastic.
A song makes you live
A poem makes you revive
And a prose helps us survive.
Copyright © December 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Flying past the hillsides,
flying pat the bays,
flying past the cabin
where I might just like to say.
Flying past the tall trees,
branches scrape my feet,
’tis the finest jetpack
you can buy with money.
Ain’t no toil,
in my jetpack royal,
my view is unspoiled
in my jetpack royal,
so high the blood boils
in my jetpack royal,
the schemes that I’ll foil
in my jetpack royal.
Flying through the cities,
over the suburbs,
flying past the park where
kids by swings wait their turn.
Flying over mountains,
past the birds of prey,
the eagles give strange looks
then dive out of my way!
Ain’t no toil,
in my jetpack royal,
my view is unspoiled
in my jetpack royal,
so high the blood boils
in my jetpack royal,
the schemes that I’ll foil
in my jetpack royal.
Oh, free flying,
so high and free,
I wish you had
a jetpack like me.
If I had cash
I’d buy you one,
we’d soar up high
and have too much fun!
Ain’t no toil,
in my jetpack royal,
my view is unspoiled
in my jetpack royal,
so high the blood boils
in my jetpack royal,
the schemes that I’ll foil
in my jetpack royal.
want write poems that not
bout politics life's weighty
absurdities death's grip all
simple poems contentment
son's enthusiasm energy
wife's cooking heroic endurance
kitten's bouncing curiosity
old cat's slowing solitude
dog praying hard reform
colors fall newness spring
mowing leaves grass gazing
on in forest looking beyond
tree tops lake mirage day
venus mars night
bach lifting toward
mozart floating down
heaven singing love conquering
fulfilled voluntary unions bodies
cooperation nations peace
strength through peace soul society
treading softly near edge
old habit making safe path
some sweet day will
Death's Shadow creeps across the wall
Where memories of triumph Stand tall
Each scar tells stories of battles won
Each breath echoes choice made, undone.
The ledger of our days is closed
Accounted for in every pose
No whispered no apologies sought
No trembling knees, no faltering thought.
Before the throne of judgment high
We stand as mountains touch the sky
Our hearts ablaze with righteous pride
Our soul unbroken, side by side.
The divine inquirer raises sight
Upon our shoulders, straight and bright
No shame deliberate, no guilt resides
Only the peace that honor provides.
Through trials fierce and tests of fire
We walked the path our conscience dire
Each step deliberate, each choice clear
Our character forged, year by year.
It was a soft rain -- yes, I stated soft,
for rain has many texture -- some even
color. Imagine a spectrum-brush dragged
across a well wetted, primed sky, which
muted technical, dully call~ a Rainbow.
It was a long anticipated rain:
Saguaro Sentinels weary, dryly
on guard -- bristled their natural pins and needles
A night, of many, thirsty
dark folds, imbibing deeply:
Desert craving saturation --
Just beyond the dawn tomorrow
if not for some minor residue dew
the blessing will again be entirely gone --
witness the browning green hint of
a brief gully front lawn --
Specific Types of Imagination Poems
Definition | What is Imagination in Poetry?
Poems Related to Imagination
thought, artistry, imagery, ingenuity, intelligence, image, insight, idea, fancy, resourcefulness, originality, fantasy, wit, awareness, inventiveness, vision, inspiration, conception, perceptibility, cognition, creation, creativity, supposition, illusion, invention