Best Consummate Poems
Metaphors and similes exude when scripting poetic verse.
Across pale parchment, the poet's pen continues to traverse.
Ink courses like life blood, rushing through his eddied veins
as he ignores cramped fingers while writing echoing refrains.
Each stanza arranged by sequence in the creation of a story.
Sometimes his mysterious muse dances wildly with allegory.
He reins her in when he is focused but totally oblivious of time.
With vivid imagination, he sits penning in consummate rhyme.
Thoughts drift like flurries of snowflakes; his passion ignites
as each completed verse lifts his wizardry to greater heights.
In epic form he wanders within a level of verbose amplitude,
composing lyrical sonnets when creating a romantic interlude.
He indites with skill and talent of an accomplished musician,
striving to compose a magnum opus, a worthy composition.
If by chance his poetry is interpreted with eyes of admiration
he'll credit his gypsy muse for offering amorous inspiration.
This is absolutely out of this universe
That a consummate kleptomaniac thinks
That he has the right to steal any ranks
Any rings, any votes, anybody in the hearse
This is scurrilously crazy to try steal
To commit murder on 5th. Ave. at midday
What kind of world is that? Doomsday
Must be around the corner, at the heal
Of the hills. A consummate kleptomaniac
Thinks that he can get away with murder
Any year, any month, any day, and any hour
Doesn't he think that God is constantly watching?
God is ubiquitous like the loitering air in the streets
God is listening carefully and writing the minutes
There's a time for the geese, a time for anything
There's a time for the pathological liar to get caught
Like a greedy whale, to be prosecuted after being cut
Profoundly by the sharp Shrapnel shell under the fence
A consummate kleptomaniac is bad news. His defense
Is no longer appropriate or strong. He is going under
Because nobody is above the law. Nobody can alter
God's final gavel. God is the sole Supreme at the altar.
Copyright © November 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Nonetheless suicidal ideations severely
whipsaw punctuate, lacerate, assassinate
frescoed fiasco failure grimly livingsocial
ah...that dull cutlery eyed with temptation
one painful thrust hemorrhaging, whereby
carpeting permanently stained blood red,
(security deposit forsaken) cremation ought
not outrageously expensive, I subsequently
chickened out imposing eternity of fire and
brimstone self condemnation, denunciation,
excoriation gently tested as serrated knife
made contact against flesh of left arm..., no
strength prevails this Father's Day 2019
beset with gravity of black hole son wracked
fiasco frescoed across psyche adrip with
bajillion pearl jammed tears aghast at blank
tabula rasa with few hashtag marks evincing
feeble effort contrasted with abundant
adventure awaiting eldest daughter agog
at countless opportunities availed since...
her birth, when she exhibited above
average intelligence made bee line high
school International Baccalaureate program
(at Lower Merion) testament, asper flying
colors one keystone linkedin destiny toward
eventual linchpin, viz IVY League University
(handsome financial aid package allotted),
plus exemplary academic job well done, now
finds blessed progeny enroute to west coast
(sharing pricey apartment with emma man hint
beau), whereat this papa overjoyed at bountiful,
delightful, faithful indomitable laudable
achievement starkly aware how bleak and
forlorn hogtied hobbled horrid mine existence
never knowing "seat of spongebob squarepants"
experience analogous to rite of passage gaining
positive result regarding electric kool aid battery
operated litmus test forging steely mettle
comprising organic entity NON GMO, nor gluten
free genetic gifted body, mind, and spirit attaining
inherent maximization allowing, enabling and
providing decades to acquire financial means
to enjoy relative versus countless squandered
prospects yours truly (me) neglected to cultivate
leaving barren an existence not worth trumpeting!
Upon poised to strike unsuspecting prey
oft times myself she doth cannibal eyes
everything her sight coalescing, whereby her
occipital orbs gleam fiery poker hot embers
ferocious roars of ear splitting hunger pangs
deafen wolf, and/or any other unlucky fauna
paralyzed with dreadfully locked fear petrified
helplessly frozen as unsung hero(ine) twists
and shouts out for Godzilla (lame rival) to
rescue potential bite size hors d'oeuvre
buzzfeeding bottomless pit always housing
an appetite for consumption ready to eat a
horse so be calf full if daring to spring syrup
rise visit here, thee veritable wasteland, who
never knows beastial fierce savagery lashes
out to buildon kitchen midden reminiscent of yore
or Mayan garden variety primitive culture steeped
in human/animal sacrifices, the above iterated
summary approximating quotidian battle to escape
by skin of teeth (er dentures) this hubby dodging
hither and yon (considerably lame version, sans
all around mulberry bush...), thus right now
temporarily holed up within a rock and hard
place, since wife snoozing away before she doth
wrest remains of day lumbering to satiate her never
ending capacity to sock away (more like vacuum
up) every creature great and small, whereby she
swells up easily mistaken for lead zeppelin (many
a previous halloween with little effort donning
herself Das Hindenburg erupting flames for added
scariness), which ill affords this unlucky husband
to maximize tasting, savoring and relishing every
sacred moment lest any given instantaneous moment
find me in dire circumstantial straitjackets, I cannot
stomach enduring another moment remaining, NOT
blissfully married, yet acknowledge options limited
tummy, whereby as soon as possible being abducted
by aliens would be welcome respite, no matter they
may conduct numbers of experiments, which
happenstance welcome versus existence analogous to
fraught being swallowed into belly of beast similar
to Jonah and Whale...B-R-E-A-K-I-N-G...N-E-W-S...
J-U-S-T...C-A-M-E...I-N...meaning at long last no
more severe looming threats, albeit harmless hyperbolic
inane kooky "FAKE" poet, whew courtesy Moby Dick
reincarnated forever spelling reprieve from bonafide
blatherskite at least until team of emergency first
responders can risk life and limb to disable dangerous
golem (frightful enough to give King Kong heebie jeebies)
carefully crouching despite cringing with severe panic
attacks, and undertaking grave task to dislodge poor
(probably posthumous) poet wannabe, which inevitable
fate impossible mission to postpone permanently, BUT
with amount of skulduggery, HE WILL RETURN!
Here is 1 for
Ring , Ding
The phone goes
Hello bud want to go out for a drink
Meet you at your house at 6
Hello bud how's it going
lot's to catch up on
Now let's fast forward a little
more and bit later
A single step since entering the
bar
The 1 friend who phoned to invite
his friend out for a drink
Says mines a pint you get the
drinks in
I've got some spare coins i want
to throw into the slot machine
won't be long grab us both a chair
so long
Half and hour or more later sat
alone his friend returns and
eventually re-joins him
Downs his pint and says i just
won 400
But friend No 2 refrained from
saying well done my mate get the drinks in tonight's on you
Because he knows rather than
that what he is bound about to
say is this
Couldn't lend me 20 could you
please mate
I won and was 400 up but
threw it all back in plud another
100 my night out spending
money chasing the 1000 jackpot
Actually mate can you make that
50 i'll pay you back when i get
paid
I know that jacpot is poised
and about to pay out any second
now
Thanks your a good mate then
proceeds to the bar only
to get change
Forgets about buying his mate
a drink or the fact he has left
him sat all on his lonesome
Even though he is the 1 who
actually invited him out in
the 1st place and it is his
50 he is about to gamble
away and loose
And when and after he losses that
as well like a spoilt child says
to his friend
That's totally ruined and spoiled
my night out completely
Get us 1 final drink for the road
mate im off home
I don't know why i even bothered
to come out in the 1st place
Or more to the point
Why or how you have any friend's
left
Given the fact this happens not
some of time but the majority
of the time
And worse than that you know
you have hit the lotter friend's
jacpot
When the lesser of 2 evils
Is choosing between this 1
Or the other 1 who has 2 drinks
turns into a spiteful drunk and
blames the world for everything
Who would try and wants to
cause and could start a fight
in a graveyard
Or punch a vicar if he wasn't
willing to hand over his holy
communion wine stash
CONSUMMATING THE WORD
In the beginning was
The Word
Consummating it is
becoming Wordless
I fly them through windows
onto tarred roads
where tyres tread them
into Earth’s crystal blue gem
I consummate the word
like planets swallow comets
one gaping glance and
books burn in a flounce
I consummate the word by
dissolving fine hair on your
neck without a kiss, wet or red
without a letter to untidy bed
For Goddess consummates
in silent windy nights
where poems and words
are disappearing cords
©GhairoDanielsPoetry2022