breathless hush
Beyond dreams
with candlelight burns
Lives cross lives idling
Beyond souls emptiness'
piano speaks
'It's all in one mind'
the trees listening
for they are one
with the universe
Eyes smell flowers and become them
There's a deathless hush tonight
tidal wave sweeps in
breathes and sinks all lights lit
Mormon tabernacles washed away like barnacles
Coyotes are confounded & swim nowhere
An orchestra keeps on playing Handel's Water Music
Horns fill with water float away like lovers horizontal
Loop becomes a rollercoaster
like water glasses mixed with Buddhist brine
watered down beer topped with sea foam
Beau Fleuve suddenly become salt
buried masts of Amsterdam arise
the great wave sweeps
to wash away over-age Camembert
steaming in sea-vines
the washed land awakes again to wilderness
the only sound a vast thrumming of crickets
a cry of seabirds high over
and Indians reclaim their canoes
(Blackout of Wild Dreams Of A New Beginning
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti)
Evening settles along San Antonio’s River Walk
where the river has carried centuries~
Payaya canoes gliding through reeds,
Franciscan friars mapping water to mission,
stone masons shaping banks
that would one day cradle a city.
The water moves with its old patience,
green and unhurried,
bearing the memory of every hand
that once depended on its flow.
Cypress roots clutch the earth
the way they did long before
the first chapel bells rang.
Bridges replace where footpaths once wound.
Boats slip past,
their lights shimmering like stories
recalling river foraging,
and irrigation lifelines
I feel how the river gathers every era~
Indigenous footsteps,
mission bells, and
modern dusk~
The place seems almost sacred,
not through grandeur,
but through the
quiet and faithful way
it keeps passing moments
in the curve of its water.
he does not like boats, especially canoes
spent a few minutes running along the edge
complacent now, he sits staring at his master
the water is frigid; no way he will swim out there
he would have gone on a pontoon boat
they are large, and feel much safer
he has been on them before
this boat was too wobbly; he backed up
at least his master is in sight
he settles down with his head on leaves
taking a bit of a snooze while he waits
"Lucky me - I grew up by the Pacific sea" ~ quote by poet
Its depths and vast breadth suggest a mystery.
I've pondered it from airplanes, boats, and shore -
the Pacific Ocean in all its glory,
from its gentle lapping to its mighty roar.
Underneath the unchanging blue expanse,
lies a wide-ranging world of features -
magma oozing from deep sea vents,
blue whales, giant squid, and all kinds of creatures.
Earth's biggest site's fascinating history,
from Polynesians in palm leaf canoes
to the battles of recent generations,
and the many lives we had to lose.
More than that are personal memories
and evocations of sites and smells,
as my eyes well with salty moisture.
I am with Mother, picking up seashells,
And it's to the Pacific, I must thank
for the sunsets and moonlit nights,
promoting long lost budding romances.
Oh, how I miss those sweet delights.
We hike the trails where emerald silence grows,
The forest hums beneath the morning light,
The mountain breathes in rhythms nature knows.
The beach wind plays with gulls in seaward flight,
We splash through waves, our footprints wash away,
The forest hums beneath the morning light.
By lakes so still they mirror skies all day,
Canoes drift slow like dreams in midday sun,
We splash through waves, our footprints wash away.
Through wooded paths, the deer and foxes run,
We pitch our tent where starlight softly lands,
Canoes drift slow like dreams in midday sun.
A fire is born from our own weathered hands,
We share our tales until the embers die,
We pitch our tent where starlight softly lands.
We hike the trails where emerald silence grows,
The mountain breathes in rhythms nature knows,
The beach wind plays with gulls in seaward flight,
We share our tales until the embers die.
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.
Ramble Through a Birch Forest
the path is straight and narrow
not a rock in the way
birches as far as the eye can see
their trunks, like tall slender
asparagus stalks, reach skyward
their caps, leaves bunched
at the top like celery
I look at their white bark
imagining sweet birch beer
distilled or the sturdy canoes
dug out of tough trunks
I would like to stop
and ponder these things
but I must keep my date
with you
Mountains of snow, with colder snow underneath.
We all have phones in our pockets.
I set a timer to the last time we talked.
Left it all in the snow.
A river is where we used to hang out.
Is now just a river with fish, and not us.
The fish wonder where we went.
They head south.
The tire swing was taken over by wasps.
Whispering wasps which are disagreeable.
Stinging, and buzzing.
We had an argument here, before that tree was overwhelmed with those wasps.
Mountains of old texts.
We have newer and newer phones over the years.
Delete them, or don’t.
The mountain will grow.
Colder snow and river canoes.
Friendships which left scattered clues.
An argument which was like a wasp in a tree.
We took different paths, which were almost free…
Until I reached the toll booth.
And he asked for five dollars and the truth.
Give money to make the old road disappear.
Delete that last text with a tear.
Is a limerick milk and rice?
It is in letter form.
Will a butterfly flutter by
as pastel petals fall?
Astronomers, the moon-starers,
Say, “Yay! Cat’s ecstasy!”
Do canoes that ply the oceans
show discretion in directions?
Be silent now, and listen still,
to bather’s pacing breaths.
The tall and solitary royalist reigns;
but, will he resign?
Hear the minstrel, Mr Silent,
make a testament and statement:
“This is a play on jumbling words:
it's Anagramalia!”
canoes tiny splash
glides on reflective mirror
great for bass fishing
They call me simple now
Because I have less
And want less
And talk less
After the sting
When my cheeks and mind had cooled
I hoped so
I have been washed up on the sides of shallow streams
And whipped around on white water rivers
And up to my shoulders in alligator swamps
To my knees in heavy mud
I have been enraptured with the false promise of the bay
And thinking that I had reached the end of hope
I have laid my limbs down around the buoys
And bobbed my time away
If there is an ocean after all
And if I am nearly there
Well good
All my broken canoes
And the shoes I left buried in quicksand
Will meet me here
Where the rain comes back to the sea
And ten thousand currents coalesce
To be simple
Our
Hawaiian Sun
got burned
yesterday
and cried all
night ...
usually day after
our tradewinds turns and ...
they'd
betrayedwinds
and our baby then
shone me
the coconut tree
N U T S!
all gone
just dangling palms
looks like tourists palms
ahh, fiddlestcks
more unfinished castles
in the sand
crumbling ...
kind of defines McLean.
Glaring white lake stretches up to bushes’ shades.
Adirondack chairs and canoes align in grace.
March 26, 2023 11.37am
Dreams continue as he pursues and fits into those new life shoes/
Steams of old morose songs singing sad blues in dark venues/
Has his hold paddling multiple life canoes/
His eyes mold maddening views of how not to use or misuse /
Less issues to load tissues and blow revenues /
He construes the con’s cruise how he’d abuse and throw a fuze /
Irrelevant spoofs but now he refuels and will refuse /
To lose how he broke a fuzed fool loose into bomb grooves /
Explodent raising the roof with booms and more proofs /
Next go sent is praising a nerd goof’s blurred sluice see through /
An Oxymoron to use without suboxone, oxycontin or any proxy plottin /
That’s rotten like heroin in pill form not an option /
From hereon in I’m building and recovering /
I’ve beaten my cranial region and more covering/
It’s a pain in the neck and the back sore hovering /
Pain multiplied by the passion is what caused action /
The symptom is contamination leaving one ultimatum /
Create a new life curriculum to cure ick-n-glum
river is waist deep
ambience of lily pads
swings elephant trunks
multitude of rubbernecks
in dugout canoes; and me
1/31/2023
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