When our children were mere babies…
dependent on us for food, love, shelter…and more
it never crossed our minds
to send them off to war.
I wish we…and our leaders would remember…
when declaring war…
knowing the death and destruction that will befall
those women and men you send to fight…
are still someone’s babies after all.
Real friends are exceptional guardian angels
Like devoted and trustworthy brothers and sisters
Like T58 heavy tanks assuming defensive roles
And like invincible armors - formidable defenders.
True friends turn neither allies nor rivals into vile devils
Real friends always protect one another’s interests
True friends don’t behave like manipulative pests
And real friends act humanely, on all conceivable levels.
Beware of all fake, faulty, fallible, frail and faux friends
Choose your friends meticulously, wisely, and carefully
Our world abounds with futile, tawdry despots with tainted hands.
Friends don’t create troubles for nobody even for the foes
Our world teems with vermin eager to devour babies’ toes
Be fully aware of the surrounding waters and the slumbering sea.
Copyright © April 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
On the first day of New Year-
This year gave to me,
One corpse lying in my living room.
On the second day of New Year-
This year gave to me,
Two stillborn babies,
One corpse lying in my living room.
On the third day of New Year-
This year gave to me,
Three empty coffins,
Two stillborn babies,
One corpse lying in my living room.
Today’s blessing is about our children
and how time with them goes by so fast…
as I paraphrase the words of James M. Barrie
and a bit of wishful thinking…taken from the past.
Once you read the words…smile
as you let them rest upon your shoulder:
If we never put our babies to bed
they can’t wake up another day older.
Today’s blessing goes out to everyone
but especially those who have the power
and who must be willing
to stop the hate and prejudice and wars
and all the people you are killing.
To take a moment before you decide
to stop and think that maybe
that person you are killing is still somebody’s baby:
May we be blessed to understand
from the moment we first hold them in our arms….
It is up to do our best to keep our babies protected…safe
and free from harm.
beanie babies appeared in 1994
a tiny stuffed dog, bear, pig, but not one more
they featured a heart tag, birthday and poem
millions have now found a forever new home
thirty-one-years later they are still selling well
cockatoos, crabs, hedgehogs, beanie babies do sell
foxes, sloths, lobsters, a dog who is blue
and they remain reasonably priced too
for five ninety-nine you can buy most of them
some more exotic feature a large plastic gem
others are part of an exclusive holiday set
for decades, beanie babies have made a wonderful pet.
When I look around the world
and see and hear how the news is all gloom and doom
I wonder if our leaders would still call each other names
If their hatred would flow and their anger would fume…
If they were surrounded by smiling babies in the room.
If they each had to carry a baby…while they spoke
would this help to melt their hearts
would it make them understand…
they are literally holding the future of the world
within their own two hands
the rent’s late again,
the ashtray’s full,
the bottle’s empty,
and the woman on the couch
is talking about love
like it’s a grocery list.
the cat’s hungry,
the dog’s sick,
the kids I never planned
write letters I never open—
they always start the same way,
“hi dad, remember me?”
I work when I can,
drink when I must,
and lie when it’s easiest.
truth doesn’t pay the bills,
and the landlord doesn’t
take sincerity for currency.
I used to think I was
building a kingdom—
turns out it’s just
a pile of bottles and cigarettes buts..
still, something in me
keeps striking matches
in the dark—
keeps making promises
I can’t afford to keep,
keeps reaching out
to hold another life,
like maybe this time
I’ll get it right.
but the morning always comes,
and I find the same man
in the mirror—
tired,
half-drunk,
still trying to love
the whole damn world
on an empty wallet.
Midnight Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch
I.
A measureless rhythm rules the night—
few have heard it,
but I have shared it,
and its secret is mine.
To put it into words
is as to extract the sweetness from honey
and must be done as gently
as a butterfly cleans its wings.
But when it is captured, it is gone again;
its usefulness is only
that it lulls to sleep.
II.
So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night,
to the moans of the moonlit hills'
bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill
with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills.
But I will not sleep this night, nor any …
how can I—when my dreams
are always of your perfect face
ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace,
framed by your tear-drenched pillowcase?
"Midnight Lullaby" has been set to music by the award-winning New Zealand composer David Hamilton.
Bashed by Basho
by Michael R. Burch
He came to me like an early birdie
and said, “My, my, you are REALLY wordy!”
Keywords/Tags: lullaby, lullabies, music, musical, song, child, children, childhood, baby, babies, midnight, night, rhythm, sleep
Dead Babies
You know where
silence is complicity
insidious war crimes
dance in this vile air
Holocaust encore
babies on her back
the possum crossed the river
a log was her bridge
nestled in the lily of the valley leaves is baby swan
He looks all cozy in the droplets of morning dew.
I spied him secured there at daybreak, an April dawn
What a pretty baby, his bill has a teensy touch of blue.
He sleeps like all babies, content, knowing his mama’s love.
He is snug and tidy in plants that are moist and deep.
I know she is watching out for him, as are angels from above.
I do not bother him, simply let him enjoy his needed sleep.
All of a sudden
The stars have stopped shining
Blimming sadness in Heaven
Too many babies are maimed and hurt
Too many infants are starving and suffering
Too many women are crying and mourning
And too many men are being sought
For summary executions
Where countless elders of the sad nations
Have disappeared without a trace
The pain is excruciating. What a disgrace!
All of a sudden
The sky has become extremely dark
Bloody chaos in Heaven
The cemetery is in the park
The buildings are bombed and bulldozed
For heaven’s sake, too many soldiers are overdosed
Where ships, vessels, yachts, boats and canoes are sunk
Somewhere is buried a dead skunk
Where everything is comatose and decomposed
No one can honestly envision a bright future
Where nobody can dry the tears of Mother Nature.
The stars have stopped shining
The moon is visibly absent
The sun is on strike and fasting
And the weather is eerily aberrant.
Copyright © June 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Write Seven Beautiful Lines With A Twist Poetry Contest
Constance La France
With seven new rows added to their garden the grass is greener
By Author
At the hospital the media is following the birth of septuplets
The headliner is a mother, who brought seven JEWELS to life
Six girls and boy join their mother and father couplets
As the husband's SHADOW came to light he hugged his wife
The media's attention opened the GATE to curiosity hounds
Months later the prying knocks on their door shook their strife
The family would MUTTER each knock, wishing to stay in bounds
How many women here
have been impregnated
by Elon Musk? looking for hands
He plans to repopulate the planet
single handedly - well, not handed
exactly - you know what I mean.
In Australia, great swaths of Texas,
and of course Mar-a-Lago, he’s a serial offender,
because his sperm is legal tender.
Factoid: you might catch a disease,
he’s sleeping with everyone north of Belize
and several of them, frankly, look sleazy.
Of course, you’d have to listen to him talk. shivers
Unless you say, “Hey, can we do this without conversation?”
That’s when you’d slip on your sleep mask, and, well, you know.
But what would you be thinking about?
.
.
FUN! by KiNG MALA [E]
BLOODONTHETIMBS by Bren Joy [E]
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