Written: August 17, 2026
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Spilling out in heavy gold,
To wake what lay still and fair.
Reluctantly, the dawn unrolled,
A sudden shiver stirred the air.
On every sun-scratched crest and hill,
where blazing sighs breathe and swell.
They spill ashore with quiet will—
A rhythm moving in its shell.
Flaring through the widening day,
Where hot gales blow a warmer breeze.
That single, hesitant ray,
Now spills its weight across the seas.
Surviving the weight of heavy years,
this light found where the shadows hid.
A love that conquers all our fears
in this raw light, we learn how to build.
So brief, this golden shadow dwells,
Across the curve of heavy waves—
A single gasp as the sky swells,
Before the dance of light behaves.
Under Our Sun:-
Nothing ever grows without the rain
There can be no movement without change
You see under the sun but not before it comes
You can sell your soul for the dollar like all the other ones
Walk with the army knocking on the doors of your sons
Death will always come to those who point the gun
Peace shall never be if we do not see what we’ve become
Just another dead man lying on the floor who didn’t run
What happens after we’re all buried in our graves?
It will never change how the en fool behaves
Underneath our sun all remains the same
It’s about time we realise we are to blame.
I built a small cathedral
out of the hours no one saw.
Not of stone,
but of the quiet ache
that gathers when a person learns
to live with their own echo.
Inside it,
the light behaves differently.
It bends around old memories,
touches the soft edges
of the things I never said,
and warms them
as if forgiveness were a sunrise
slowly remembering how to rise.
Some days,
I am only a doorway
waiting to be opened.
Other days,
I am the whole sky
trying to hold itself together
while the wind insists
on teaching me how to let go.
But tonight,
I am simply human
a pulse,
a breath,
a small lantern of hope
carried through the dark
by hands that have learned
the art of not giving up.
And if you pass me
on one of your quieter evenings,
you might see it
that faint shimmer
of someone rebuilding themselves
not loudly,
not perfectly,
but honestly.
You start out thinking wisdom
arrives with trumpets and fanfare,
maybe even a marching band.
Instead it shows up quietly,
disguised as misplaced keys,
creaky knees, and better priorities.
You learn to savor the slow days,
the soft chairs,
the way sunlight behaves in late afternoon.
And here’s a truth no one mentions:
the older you get,
the more you look out your house windows.
I have carried many versions of myself. One spoke softly because he feared being heard. Another laughed too loudly because he feared being forgotten. There was one who belonged to a village road, another to a crowded city bus, another to an airport departure gate illuminated at three in the morning.
Each believed he was the final version.
Each was mistaken.
The truth is that identity behaves less like a monument and more like a river. It collects tributaries. It accepts rain. It changes shape without surrendering its name.
I no longer ask where I belong.
Instead, I ask what I can carry forward.
A kindness learned from one place. A lesson learned from another. A memory from each.
And so I travel lightly, not because I possess little, but because I have discovered that home is not a location stamped into a passport.
It is what remains when every border has been crossed.
The system reports temporal governance has improved
stability is now assumed
territory has been optimized
boundaries no longer require revision
decisions move through approved channels
desire is no longer a variable
people comply within expected ranges
habits were adjusted quietly
uncertainty reduced until it disappeared
time was reorganized
not divided, only arranged
even weather responds within acceptable deviation
wind behaves correctly
silence is logged as normal output
no interruptions recorded
a system check runs
nothing unusual detected
another check follows
still nothing
the system repeats the check
because repetition confirms stability
no further variables remain
only checking continues
status remains stable
there is nothing left to correct
and still the system continues monitoring
because monitoring has no end condition
the emperor is not recorded as collapsed
collapse is not a valid category!
A crab is trying to run straight forward ,
Useless effort ending in sidewise crawl.
Creature is bound to move sideways,
though weird.
Caterpillar crawling on bamboo pillar
chews leaves wishing to fly.
Nature helps to take shelter in cocoon.
Metamorphosis starts to progress :
Transformation is complete later or soon.
Ugly caterpillar comes out
as beautiful butterfly fluttering wings
sucking nectar from flower,
really weird.
Tadpole swimming delighted in pool
wagging tail without fail
and by nature is herbivore.
Attaining adulthood, it leaves the tail,
turning to amphibian frog,
purely carnivore,
behaves weird.
I am that happy sinner;
Who behaves like a fool.
I wish to be one for real,
But I am too smart to be.
I am such hopeless winner:
Whose race seems too cool...
I wish to have this nice zeal,
But my hustling nature disagree.
I am one useless boy;
Who knows not of pride.
I wish to high my self esteem,
But people would see arrogance.
I am everyone useful toy:
Whose pleasure can't be dyed.
I wish its gay remains agleam...
But not enough cum my elegance.
I am such an amazing being;
Who feels no hate unknown.
I wish to live with that heart,
But my face is weary of time's arrow.
I am that goat keenly studying...
Those that sheep left alone.
Why they wish to never depart?
But living onto its daring sorrow!
When an apex predator behaves unnaturally
The balance of power becomes upsetting
The scale is not just immeasurable
It's behaving dysfunctionally
Reason is cast aside
When sides are paramount
Differences mounting to the sky
Becoming mountainous, unassailable
Forgetting we rose from the ooze
We didn't choose what was discarded
But it was nature made that choice for us
And not something lightly regarded
The borders crossed were nature's own
And no one owned what was provided
No one claimed as theirs alone
What only nature has decided
What's unbecoming to presume
Has become our nature to resume
Some think that challenging is treason
And choosing sides is tantamount to reason
Ignoring what has led us here
In willful ignorance compounded
Compounding what leads only to fear
And thoughts of our ascent unfounded
Paradise is realized in the Pacific, excitement is found in her waters,
but never forget she can muster mighty storms, along her shores
there is a ring of fire - I retell her stories to my children,
their memories are out to sea.
—by Poet
The Cliffhanger castled above the waves.
The scorch of ring of fire, the club headed due South.
In darkness, the sea was disturbed.
Would our workplace be preserved - open mouth.
Hoping the Pacific behaves.
Aloha, we’ve flown over her; here’s paradise.
Exploring the North shore is exhilarating.
Unlike coast of California,
Oahu waters surround us, enticing, nice;
vainglorious waves, pulsating.
We play for three years, with three kids,
in Pacific sands and gliding on boogie boards.
We watch islanders leaping from the cliffs.
My twenties, spent in bathing suit, with its rewards.
Opening and closing eyelids -
the makings of a poet who never forgets.
I remember the eye of Hurricane Iwa -
holding my infant son; the breeze,
then weighty winds coming from the ocean diva;
a performer with majestic outlets.
People are like rivers.
The river water is the same everywhere
But every river is narrow
In some places it's fast current
Some places is wide
Some is slow in water flow
In some places the river water is clear
In some places the river water is turbid
In some places the water is cold
In some places the water is warm
The same goes with people
Human beings are embryos
With various human characteristics
Sometimes people show its humanity
Sometimes people show its inhumanity
He often behaves, unrecognizable
But in fact it's all in him.
Inspired by one witty Nate White, of Britain
I vote him in a year ago
Vainglory man with orange glow
We didn’t have another choice
The country spoke, a single voice
I hate him not, he is the boss
There’s way his power comes across
So much revealed as time goes
For us to find and him disclose
No class, no charm, no wit, but troll
No warmth at all in present role
No wisdom, honor, humor, grace
Insults dispatched when face-to-face
He can be nasty, don’t show soul
He bashes heads to reach one’s goal
Lack of nuance and spite don’t stop
Behaves like bull in china shop
Offensive, crass, with shallow scope
We pray and watch, while harbor hope
For better life and worldly peace
He's mostly driven by caprice
Not man of word, give and withdraw
Commits to Russia win the war
He shakes the world to see what comes
Yet some big plans are yielding crumbs
Ain’t no compassion, noble not
Aims cutting Middle Eastern knot
Amusing? No, this isn’t the case
Who are you, Mr. Orange Face?
August 30, 2025
ROLLING WITH THE Rs Poetry Contest
Nette Onclaud
8/5/25
Special
Tenant wanted
Suitable applicant
Is responsible and behaves
Check marks to bookworms over butterflies
No drama, visitors, or noise
Nice-sized room is furnished
Landlord's hamlet
Special
We die a little bit
Each day and each night
As we live every minute
Gleeful or glum under the light.
We die in our sleep
And rise again if we’re lucky
And blessed. This is deep
Few people are truly canny or savvy.
Believe not in all the glitters
When it’s time to go or to depart
Gravity behaves like deadly creatures.
We die every day and every night
A little mum or sharp under the weight
As darkness exists deep in the heart.
Copyright © July 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
My theme is, “Martha Washington – but why?”
First Lady – how the Big Man’s wife behaves
was fixed by her: so Jackie Kennedy
was shaped by Martha. Coming through the rye,
we learn that some are heroes, others knaves,
and some deserve to live in infamy
but end up famous. Think of “Family Guy”,
the David Hasselhofs, the Flavor Flavs,
or Arnold (Benedict), or Syngman Rhee.
So what did Martha do, that I decry?
She prompted no contumely, made no waves:
she didn’t do a thing – and there’s the key.
She didn’t change the world. She didn’t try.
The wealth you didn’t earn is what depraves:
one of Virginia’s wealthiest was she!
The only thing her husbands did was die.
Though not exactly dancing on their graves,
she certainly enjoyed her liberty
and dead men’s money. Didn’t have to buy
a toothpick. Bricks and mortar, horses, slaves –
she got the lot. And slowly, by degree,
she handed down (for Martha was on high)
the stuff that each descendant always craves –
the loot. It went to Robert Edward Lee.
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