On Firtriculon V, the jagged sneels glide
through the deep and wounded river
Of course the river, aptly named The Scagerwat,
Would not be wounded if not for
The jagged sneels messy gliding
On Firtriculon V, the patterwattale plants
Reach up towards and put dirt on
The wobbling bobbling moon
Of course the moon, aptly named The Rastlying,
Would not wobble or bobble if the
patterwattale plants had not placed the
dirt only on the left side
On Firtriculon V, the weaving wheezing wahdels
Sing loudly at 2:83 in the aftermorning
And stop at 2:85 just as loudly
And of course the song, aptly named the ballad of werel,
Would not be sung as 2:83 if
The weaving wheezing wahdels didn’t keep a close
watch on the comings and goings
Of the popples on the ground
On Firtriculon V, people come at go
Ignoring the strange happenings around them
Because nothing is truly strange
on Firtriculon V
In the congruent eddy of life and time
That may twist and turn but will end inline
We may see the end in front of us
But will spin and bend with existence flurry
it will always abruptly end no matter the plan
Continue to drop until the last grain of sand
No mercy to even the best of us
With no favors can we curry
I've ran a race with all due zeal
I have stood tall and refused to neal
I'm inclined to beg no more
And inclined to see it through
Back, will my limited reality be pealed
In tacked, as my short comings be sealed
With no risk on to the unwanted be poured
And no more will be due .
INTENDED INTEPRETATIONS-:-
essential
contoured
outlines
equally
simplified
in SIMILAR SHADES
appropriate
exaggerated
regulated
transfer
motifs
with IMPETUOUS
short-comings
discreetly
written
abstract
verbage
Although far from the sea
I can feel its tides, even hear its waves
Pulsing deep within me
And take solace in the fact
Such relentless comings and goings,
Swell and retreat in perfect rhythm.
If I lived on the beach
My mind would align effortlessly
And I’d weather cycles
Of change and stasis
Better than I seem to do
With only the hint of the sea within.
There is always something to learn
And sometimes that can be as simple as
Letting it all go
To simply settle
Where and how it does
Without personal choice or direction.
Even though I am a long way from the sea
Its tides pull within me
And without me;
The former being a constant reminder of change
And the latter a reminder how simple
Liberation from cyclic existence actually is.
(4/30/26)
EXPRESSIBLE PRINCIPLES
untiring
inward
profundity
of
evanescenct
tastes
advocated
homogeneity
rapidly
worked
&accorded
quota
regularity
eliminating
short-comings
conscious
insights
eloquently
anticipated
silently
interpreted
understandings
improvised
spontaneity
subjective
motifs
immaculately
conceived
then breathed
Let's watch the snow melting
It's wonderful and very nice
The nightingales are back
The sun warms the day
The weather is great. It is mild
In the streets where kids are playing
Football and girls are jumping ropes
It's nice out. It's a glorious spring
Let's hum the songs of yesteryear
Together harmoniously.
The air is good and fresh this morning
After the breakfast of hot buttered
Petits pains and latte
We go to the platform on the quay
To skate, to see and witness
The comings and goings of the small sailboats. It's dark
At the bottom of the ocean where the fish intertwine
The weather is nice. It is springtime
Let's sing the chorus of the old days
Together melodiously.
Copyright © March 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
I’m so greedy,
I’m nothing but a monster,
Reading stronger then I should,
Someone like me shouldn’t be loud,
I’m just a weak and honest fool they said,
But it was Beacues of them I became greedy.
Greedy for eyes,
Greedy for attention,
GREEDY ONLY ON STAGE,
When i perform on the stage,
I hope for nothing but one goal,
TO DEVOUR EVRY SHRED OF LIGHT,
To leave you all blind and lightless like me,
Like me when I’m not on stage like this now,
I plan to be the only light you’ll look at all show.
I know I’m greedy,
But that’s only because I’m pathetic,
A sin born from there up-comings.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
253.
Prayer When Friends Fail
Oh Father God, my friends fail
One by one they are gone
To them I can't anymore run
Oh Jesus Christ, my friends fail
Even those who I've always been
Now can hardly be seen
Oh Holy Spirit, my friends fail
Goad them back with Your wings
I'm waiting for their comings!
-02/05/2014
(Dumarao)
*My Prayer Poems Collection
Her bicycle has carried her many miles. She
is here now in a sacred place where leaves
are falling. She's here now, settling near my
heart. Pan flute notes float mid-air, then
settle on the path. Her warmth, a warm
summer day; her voice, a picnic of words;
her presence, a gathering of doves.
She ascends now: swirling spokesperson
pedals on to do her work. I love her comings,
her goings. Her bicycle carries her many miles.
She is faithful to her humanity.
Moon Harp
As
we drift
from focus
to the trance state,
witness consciousness
which we may call the Self,
always poised in the vast void,
remans detached yet cognisant
of all the comings and goings here,
in but not of each thought and sensation.
No doubt the gunas three twirl us around
but by resting in time dissolved calm,
light of Self becomes manifest
through tranquil meditation
as softened attention
erases space-time,
our eye single,
commingles
with God’s
light.
COMINGS AND GOINGS IN
THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES
In all life’s seasons,
Each day has its three
To be: yesterday, today,
And its tomorrow:-
Today was yesterday’s
Tomorrow, and will become
Tomorrow’s yesterday,
Which will become a today:-
No matter the day or
The season, give God the praise
For today, which was yesterday’s
Prayed for tomorrow:-
Thus, be the blessed days
That are bestowed upon us
In travelling and overcoming
Life’s trials and tribulations:-
I told the nurse
I swallowed a snake.
He charted: religious mania.
But I felt her—
three and a half turns
sleeping
just south of the back
of my clavicle.
I called her Vera
then,
full breath
pried me open.
Fire-rising,
slithering:
it was gospel
sliding
down my vertebrae—
a ladder
Jacob had forgotten—
yea and behold though
we came
back for it.
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Or crying.
Or saying
I saw light in the colorless
rooms
outside
understanding.
When I explained, again,
how god comes
in my root,
propels
herself through
my expanded
throat
chakra,
they were furious—
branded me
inpatient,
wrapped my wrists,
ordered more
Thorazine.
They don’t let me
sit cross-legged,
say my mantra
disturbs
the others.
Just between
you and me
this energy wall
crumbling, this crux
of second comings,
this fifth horseman—
is a woman re-forming
initiation:
an apocalypse
finally
worth the animal
salt-sweat
hump
it took to get it
going.
His beefy heartiness is a cheerful note,
but one that cannot be sustained for too long.
Anyone he greets
is pummeled into a certain shape
by his fractured perception.
He squirrels you away behind
a blindfolded mind,
where you must
live among other squirrels,
and made to peer at his comings and goings
from a secret cage behind his eyes.
When my travels are over
And I finished my last mile
Don't remember my frown
Just remember my smile
Forget harsh words I uttered
Remember the good I've done
Forget any heartache I caused
Just remember all our fun
Forget all my short comings
When I fell by the wayside
Not every battle can be won
But remember I truly tried
Forget to grieve my passing
I don't want you to be sad
Instead remember all our fun
And the good times we had
When the sun finally sets
On that of our last day
I only want you to remember
These last words that I say
There is no amount of tears
That you could ever cry
That will ever ease the pain
Of saying our final goodbye
Echo of distant cries,
quadruped steps deepening into dusk—
wind folding the earth’s breath.
Craftsman of the spider web,
seas of lightning possessing the sky.
Guardian of the other side,
conceiver of comings and goings,
I will meet you soon—
after the waning of many moons,
God-willing—I will meet you soon!
Til then
you will wait—
til the fateful rain washes the earth,
til the sky weeps every secret.
You will wait
as the mountain lion sleeplessly
soaks up the storms to
keep her last babe dry.
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