Pride
I'm first
you're worst
Greed
all mine
don't whine
Envy
I need
your deed
Gluttony
pig out
grow stout
Sloth
sweat, plow
not now
Wrath
Joad's grapes
bad scrapes
Lust
dispose
of clothes
Covers a life in shadows,
Crying tears of fear, a melody
Colored by doubts, mourning
Common times when healthy and strong
Calm days, taken for granted
Considered normal, before normal
Corroded beneath a deadly disease
The hymn like the hum
but the hum silent to some
One spreads like them both
He realised his big mistake:
to touch the pattern on the snake...
War is a waste of precious young blood
War is a waste of fresh natural resources
War is as bad as a raging and vile flood
War is evil if you understand the sources
The reasoning behind such unnecessary
Aggression and the violence and the vanity
Which are cowardly robbing and destroying
Mankind. War is bad. War is a very bad thing
War is evil and criminal
War is mortal and abnormal.
War is a waste for the perpetrators and the victims
War is a waste for all. But peace comes like dreams
Distant dreams. Peace is more precious than money
Diamond, gold, silver and all other precious metals
Said a very eloquent brother who deserves all medals
Ever invented by famous and powerful institutions
Give us peace, not evil wars dear highly divine Almighty
Help men learn from past errors and nugatory aggressions
War is unnatural and abysmal
War is lethal and inimical.
Copyright © February 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
57.
My Prayer Against the 7 Deadly Sins
Lord, abet me put aside
The vain and frivolous pride
I nurture within me inside
Lord, do not allow to seed
Vicious barnacles of greed
Eventhough I am in need
Lord, erase the vanity
Revealed by mask of envy
Searing me to atrophy
Lord, shield me from glaring gust
Of humid, temperate lust
For it taints my soul with rust
Lord, allow not to gather
In my heart and mind anger
Make it lag, take it faster
Lord, let me not be clumsy
Due to frisky gluttony
Horror of obesity
Lord, shun me from insolence
Brought by putrid indolence
Rip this slough of negligence.
-11/20/2011
(Dumarao)
*reflective mood
I met them once — in Silence —
They whispered — all at once —
A Choir — of Temptations —
With Souls — in Abundance —
Pride — wore a Crown of Nothing —
And I gazed — upon the Air —
I thought — he owned the Heaven —
That never noticed — there —
Envy — leaned on Lilies —
And counted — greener Blades —
His Eyes — were two small Thieves —
That robbed the Light — he made —
Wrath — was but a Furnace —
Fed — by his own Breath —
He thought — he burned the Others —
But only warmed — his Death —
Sloth — reclined in Petals —
And dreamed — he’d crossed the Mile —
But still — his Foot lay waiting —
Upon the starting — Style —
Greed — built a golden Prison —
And locked himself — inside —
The Key — was made of Hunger —
That would never be denied —
Gluttony — kissed the Chalice —
Till even Taste — grew numb —
His Feast — became his Coffin —
His Mouth — his Kingdom — come —
And Lust — in Scarlet Garden —
Unclothed — the Soul — of Skin —
he promised Love’s Forever —
But left — the Grave — within —
I left them — by the Twilight —
Their Shadows — in the Grain —
And whispered — “We are kindred —
In Virtue — and in Pain.” —
The antique mechanism
of the old clock had stopped.
The winding should have been
enough -- and yet, though the
pendulum swung back in forth
in perfect rhythm, no comforting
clicks emanated, as was usual,
the reassuring pulse of a consistent
heartbeat, regulator of a healthy
household.
The big hand had paused, 2 minutes
of. I thought, was this an angel, come
to my aid, or a devil, seething more
terror, personifying the foul deed
about to fully unfold? She would be
here, at nine. No doubt, her obsession
with punctuality. 2 minutes till, the
fiend had bound me to a chair. Assembled
the deadly charge, painstakingly attached to the
clock. Gagged as well I had no way of warning her.
2 minutes till...no, 1:58, 1:57, the clock's
now deadly hand had begun to again
advance. I heard her key in the door.
One minute to detonation. The door squeaked
on neglected hinges. "Cut! All right, 10 minute
break" the directed informed us, after shooting
for 4 hours non-stop.
I Could
Hypo-Chondriac My Way
Straight Into Another
Heart Attack That
I Never Knew I'd
Had.
Weird.
-Gray Squirrel
08-31-2025
a slow loris has a deadly trick
she takes her time, she’s sneaky and slick
venom is held in her elbow daily
Let’s pretend she is angry with my cousin Bailey.
The slow loris mixes venom with her saliva in the yard
then bites Bailey with her sharp teeth, good and hard
could he die? Oh, yes, that is the slow loris’ goal
She has already racked up a decent death toll.
I’m never proud of me, but I couldn’t be more proud of you
I’ve lost myself again, but what if finding me takes losing everything else, too?
I’ve never wanted anything more than to reach out and feel your touch
That will never happen because I’m not her, and it pains me so much
I’ll sit in this glutinous span of greed and desire
While my feelings turn from desperation to you burning alongside me in the fire
And I give up, because what is there left on this earth for me?
Where are your arms hidden in disguise,
you are our path to freedom and pride.
The spaces are taken by the celebrated and hated,
where is the love which given is for unborn,
take us with free love,
and deadly flight of widowed dove.
Stay within my spaces,
open your native places.
Understand with an open heart,
war is just an ugly form of art,
like a poison dart will eat your freedom,
burn down your home,
devastate everything we grow,
and everyone you ever knew or know,
will turn to dust under rusted nails,
and busted cemetery gates.
Never underestimate the power of one another,
with each other and the games we play,
because some day will dig our own grave.
Some would say, it's just another day,
another foul play, just go ahead and pray.
There are two sides to my buddy,
heartless and friendly.
But if you stretch it to three
there's diplomatically deadly.
Heartless and deadly,
it doesn't translate at all exactly,
that she's mean and cruel,
It's just that I can be forgettable.
When friendly is lost in heartless,
I fall into a Shakespearean tragedy.
My emotions
start to cut me into countless feelings,
"To be, or not to be".
Then from a nearer era
famous lines from that song Que Sera, Sera,
with grit,
rolls right on to my feeling's
misunderstood street,
and I think, heartless or friendly,
buddy will remain my buddy always as lovely.
(18.02.2025)
Upon a throne of gilded lies,
Pride sits, with fire in its eyes.
A whispered voice, a velvet snare,
It lifts you high, then leaves you bare.
A mirror polished, sharp and clear,
Reflects the face we long to cheer.
But deeper still, behind the glass,
A shadow stirs where truths won’t pass.
It builds a tower to the sky,
Where humble hearts dare not apply.
With every stone of self-conceit,
The soul forgets it’s incomplete.
For Pride, a thief both sly and cold,
Takes love and leaves a heartless hold.
It blinds the wise, corrupts the kind,
And leaves the broken lost, confined.
Yet when the tower starts to fall,
And echoes shake its lofty wall,
The humbled heart, through dust and pain,
May rise to find itself again.
For Pride may claim a fleeting throne,
But grace is found in hearts unknown.
To bend, to bow, to see, to share—
In lowering self, we rise through care.
Stay away from a rough-skinned newt
Their poison skin is deadly, it will make you toot.
Better to linger near an angry bandicoot.
Or go to Sam’s house and watch him play his flute.
If the newt comes near you, run off and hide.
His poison skin is deadlier than cyanide.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.