He had to be mad
to invade Ukraine
his troops followed orders
they must all be insane
to cross the borders
an unwarranted attack
by a megalomaniac
bombarding innocents
who couldn't fight back
one leader was a comedian
the other is a clown
the former gave us smiles
the latter makes us frown
what do the Russians hope
to achieve or accomplish
by destroying all they covet
leave us alone Ukraine's only wish
and it would be right in the pocket
if Zelenskyy signed a docket
for a galoot in cahoots
who's a-rootin' tootin'
to shoot a stealth rocket
between the ears of the idiot Putin
Trees of powder,
Delicate and firm.
They conceal my feathers of frost.
I perch myself by all that glitters
All that warms, and all that flickers.
I perch myself by candlelight
Snug in my nest of yarn.
My dearest deer is lost today.
The other starlings fly away.
Drifting off, a state of slumber
Filling me with fear, but wonder.
My nest of yarn, it cradles me
Despondent, I've become.
My woollen retreat, it comforts me
But chilled air bites my bones.
Beyond me waltzing are deer and starlings.
The others, romancing, like dears and darlings.
These shards of ice are carving, carving
And I know I should be out there, dancing, bombarding.
Glaciers, ponds, shining, sparkling
So stunning, so sinister for one who's so wanting
But no. Instead, in my head, I've been trying
To rid my thoughts of these paths I'm embarking.
I wished to be there, filled by warmth and by sympathy,
And in return, I was gifted immunity.
So instead, I laid here. I filled up with wonder
Drifting, and lulling a state of slumber,
Despondent and desperate, melting candlelight;
Found dead when my deer galloped into my sight.
I sit beneath a sacred tree. Seeking no meaning. I just am
Stillness gives way to clarity.
I vow to awaken us all
Searching for nothing. Waiting to rise above this earthly realm
Detaching from this body’s natural state of chaos
Bombarding all senses, numb
Dharma is obtainable, I vow to obtain it
Toys in the bloody
Dirty and occupied streets
Children are screaming.
Babies are cold dead
B 1 Planes are bombarding
Poor dead civilians!
Bloody streets
It is Hell on Earth
No Heaven.
Human beings
Are cruel and sinful
Genocide!
No Justice
No peace on poor Earth
And no love.
Dead babies
Premature angels
Where is God?
Hospitals
Many dead toddlers
And mothers.
United
Nations are guilty
Weak and poor.
Censorship
Journalists are muzzled
And killed.
Democrats
Please wake up right now
To exhale.
Jo cannot
Silence the good Poets
In action.
No conscience
No humanity
And no love.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
silver swords strike
red mountain
exposing the night
flash bang x-rays
bombarding my soul
rattling windows
tin roof deluge
staccato
gushing down my heart
cleansing the gutters
spring shower
desert gold
invigorating my spirit
renewing cactus flowers
fragrant fresh morning
tender breath from above
gentle sun warming
red blossom dripping
sweet nectar of heavenly love
wee hummer sipping
Started simply sustained systematically
Sorted out. Out of bounds boisterously
Bombarding bombing bombastic know how.
How the hooligans hounded the whole house.
Whole house stood on stilts.
Stilts, still Waters never dry.
Dry not to drought
Drought today pray it be tomorrow's
River. River? So how was horrendous
Waters run high. High above what was.
Was dengue fever subsided so
Scientifically speaking the dam
Had burst water up high.
High up to spaces never seen
Then it rained.
Feathered friends flying high
To perch upon evergreens.
Evergreens are sacred.
Now you know.
Excellently Exceptional say all
Words ending exploiting those
Efficiently ending in enders echoes
Etching out effecters effortly ends
With intended specialty especially
Enders game.
Game ending
Check mate
The internet has morphed
into a fickle friend,
warping reality
in subtle, social ways,
that no one could foresee.
The internet has morphed
into a worldwide web
that manipulates you;
bombarding you with posts
that only tout one view.
The internet has morphed
into a confidant,
with sympathetic ears
who is omnipresent;
crying emoji tears.
The internet has morphed
into a platform with
its own identity,
in a fictional place:
selling serenity.
With your teachings, tired tunes I’m tired,
Hauling its harsh import, I’m tired.
Not with my frugal fate, it’s fine,
Your rating jewels as jade, I’m tired.
By your discourse, a bit iffy,
Karmic fate of if-then, I’m tired.
By your sermons that seem dated,
Scolding, berating me, I’m tired.
Do deeds, expect no fruits, you say,
Of such tired homilies, I’m tired.
___________________________________
Ghazal |01.12.2021| despair
Poet’s note: There are numerous channels on television bombarding religious discourses, even a god channel, all heavy stuff, somehow making some listeners burdened with undue guilt. Here’s the desperate cry of one such man.
Failing to comprehend the wickedness of mankind...
today with no solutions,
Deep breathing to destress myself
governing pollutions.
Bombarding my psyche
attacking my drive,
The greatest test in life
to purely stay alive.
Breathe slowly, Breathe slowly
now passing through the odd...
though the devil has his children
Still, I remain with God.
Where do you get these ideas? She asks; poetry is a daunting task.
See the apple, Playdough, pen, stapler, and bleach cleanser I ask?
I use them with “what if” and create a missive in seconds sometimes.
I open a drawer and show her markers, a notebook and sixteen dimes.
Everything in my world can easily end up in a poem, you see.
Items quickly and connivingly jump into my brain and tantalize me
She does not see, she does not understand, and she tells me this too.
I have no other suggestions, for now a dog is being eaten by a shoe.
A horse from outer space is whispering sweet everythings in my ear.
There is a knight with one leg who is limping toward me, my dear.
Ideas are bombarding me from my left, south and right.
All I can do is begin writing with all of my might.
Where do the ideas come from? I have no idea at all.
I cannot figure it out, but the wall has grown tall.
The couch is rolling around with the recliner in a lecherous way.
I will have to get back to you at the end of the day.
Every day is such a long day when bored
I would always play with a computer motherboard
Until that first night of many had happen
A waitress next door went home at night eleven
Did you guys hear another bonfire last night?
Coz it felt like they were bombarding her light
Despite the argumentations she brought
The dark words wield her, until her light rot
I felt sorry for her agony, it was such a disease
From top to bottom who couldn’t ignore her misery
Everyday fighting for freedom to be at peace
Maybe someday she’ll find a treasury
I’m not talking about gold or sapphire
I’m saying someone could be her fire
Not literally, but someone who gives hope
Enough for her to have fate in humanity’s scope
Not everyone burns on sight
Not many have even gotten a bite
So why don’t we share our light
So her days will no longer be a fight
TONGUE TWISTER
Fantastic fun on scholastic enjoyment
assessing accessing accepting accent,
pointing permitting possible permutation,
claiming cunning clever combination,
sorting syllables on restricted selection
yielding rough tough pronunciation.
Neither fumbled nor jumbled being wobbled weak.
No boredom, speak random speedy quick.
Talk faster ignoring protester.
Wrap teeth and tongue to entrap
Ralph Malph’s mouth agape
bombarding bewildering audience
with competence, confidence
and coinciding Tongue- Twister.
01/11/21
Third Place
' Tongue Twister Challenge' Contest by Joe Sandler
Drifting dark clouds race to blanket the sun
Not a bird nor insect or creature in sight
Momentarily stillness…
Tree branches brace
As silence overcomes the debris engulfed winds
Lightning supplying the only inkling of light
A sudden rumble breaks the anticipation of what’s to come
Rain begins to mist
Wind gust enhances
Clouds vigorously churn
Thunder crackles intensify
Downpour surges, drenching all in its path
Bombarding the atmosphere through
Whimsical sounds of natural chaos
Reluctantly unnoticed, the transformational
Beauty of the thunderstorm
Juxtaposed along the way, another voice declares
“Time exists for recompense not finding fault with heirs”
Time remains a fleeting whyle, all hopelessly bombarding
Time so swiftly punishes, all happy disregarding
Time proceeds invisible, the master sure and humble
Against the clock the living swear, in darkness forward tumble
The rising sun reminding all that time is ever true
Make time your greatest friend of all, get on reviving you
Crashing and crazed, wave after wave,
A torrential anarchy from up high,
Relentlessly bombarding those down below,
Saturating all that was dry,
With bombs made from unhinged and wild and free,
Energies coming from peace,
Streams full of gentle, calm running life,
Forming a scream that falls like a beast,
Onto all down below, sharp rocks and the moss,
The brutal most natural bed,
The torrent falls down to people with hope,
To their arms and shoulders, their head,
This wild and free unhinged waterfall,
Assumes total, relentless control,
To cleanse the mind of whoevers below,
To cleanse their spirit and soul.
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