Unfortunately, the Haitian people have everything to lose
They are very fragile, humiliated, vilified, and abused
My people have been suffering for years, for centuries
On the pavement, in the streets, in the harbor and on the high seas.
Our people, our brothers and sisters!
Their wicked leaders once in power, the liars
Change all plans to the detriment of the poor
Who are quickly forgotten in the filthy cans
Their spleen, sweat and blood flow are floating in the sewers
They are despised by hens,
By guinea fowls, by roosters, and all types of demons
It was yesterday that they were applauding like dummies,
Cheering, hoping to be awarded with crumbs and pennies.
These zealous brothers are on fire, they are now deaf and crazy
at the end. Even patience has borders and boundaries
Where greedy, covetous and corrupt officials behave like evil yeasts.
Copyright © January 23, 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Some people seem to live their lives for show
But often they just don't know which way to go
They take offense whenever none was ever meant
Not caring if bad behavior is to their detriment
Insecure peers judge me as if they know who I am
I am wiser than them because I know where I stand
Exemplifying mother-instincts' best
Championing our orphanage caring-zest
Dear Meowna offers blest nurturing nest
Rearing up sweet kittens to the fullest.
While raising batches of cats midst her role
Our Meowna fulfills great life-building goal
Feeding well feline species to be whole
Guarding them against pests from drainage hole.
With her security-force that prevails
Protecting her children, she never fails
Not allowing sickness to touch their tails
Enclosing them from wounds of rusting nails.
For our Animal Welfare cause-fulfillment
God* favors along approval's settlement
Meowna props our fur-driven commitment
Inspiring us against crises' detriment.
*Genesis 1:25 And God made the beast of the earth after his kind, and cattle after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind: and God saw that it was good.
May 26, 2026
1st place, "Ode To Cat 2" Ode Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by JC Brul; judged on 8/15/2026
Most times, is him not doing great enough,
One round calls it over for the moment,
Screaming that could ginger him high is tough,
Soup without salt; a savage detriment.
Moaning while doing the do is a sin,
And doggy style not ing barbaric.
Distilled water, your kvetch just begin,
Just as errors are roots of Pindaric.
He's my hubby but no more holy.
This is so dirty for me to handle,
Be prepared, you are losing him slowly,
Who burn with his wick as wax of candle.
You ought not be seen as an accident,
It seems to sex, you are a decadent.
Indeed, lovers must not rush into
long-term relationships.
Such decisions are to society’s detriment.
As for the assertion
that no test exists
to measure compatibility,
I must protest.
I propose the use of personality tests and
astrology charts to show like-mindedness.
Choose head over heart for long-term love relationships.
At this stage in world history...Are the past acts of demonic ritual events still being debated as relevent
to causing detriment to humanity.? Was it harder to be obedient God of the Holy Bible.? Or see and know what we see and hear of in the twenty first
Century.? Do we embrace such.? Depravity upon depravity..Obscene teachings in schools and in media sources that have medium overseers.' How does it work? Whrn the Creator is relegated to a figure of
Myth.' And we do not reach for renewal.'
My biggest weakness is my desire for obsession
My want to be fully engulfed in my aeipathy for another person
To give them all of me
And more, all I want to be
To gladly abandon any other potential
To blind myself
To neglect anything else that needs my attention
To forsake my goals and any progress I've made toward them
For the sake of being consumed by the feeling of being in love
To hold tight to someone long after they are gone.
To fixate on an idea
I do this to my detriment
I remain stagnant in a moment long past
And feel it still, as real as it once had been
My disposition to sacrifice the current moment is my undoing
I abandon the things that need tending to
I die to all future moments
I could easily live the rest of life as a court jester
Playing the role of Romeo on the stage of my own mind
Kowtow & kapow..the Bazball supernova
They think it’s all over…well wow it is now
Cool cat merriment to cricket’s detriment
Down tools school for fools experiment
Mules without rules serious impediment
Flunk their funk mission to debunk tradition
Teach each Baz monk flair pizzazz edition
Preach razmattazz and all that jazz sedition
Slam dunk sunk kerplunk fans in remission
Shan’t exult this odd bod Bazball adult cult
Can’t halt Starc’s hefty lefty catapult assault
Another hilarious result and nefarious insult
Inquests as Aussie test conquests take their toll
Pat patrol in control Ben’s men droll rigmarole
Stole our soul so gonna give them some vitriol
Banished to a grassy knole the Bazball totem pole
Farce whole brassy class vanished up their ar*ehole
No need to mull it is time for a cull heads must roll
Cos in Oz they Can’t bat Can’t field and Can’t bowl
Ask not what troubles my heart
nor try to cheer my soul
I have fallen into an abyss
of which I have no control
Solemn still my mind pains
my face sour and voice mute
drowning in waters of worry
to myself I am divided by dispute
What ails me woes me
self inflicted by stubborn will
to my own detriment
I foresee myself in hell
Yet I seek no solution
but cling to solitude
And any hand of kindness
to those I am rude
Choices made for selfishness
greed beckons at my door
No matter what I acquire
I am cursed by desire of more
People come and go
faces I seldom recall
Life empty and anguish
my senses have all dull
Cherish not what pleasures
for it will quickly fade
self pity haunts my spirit
alive in the grave I made.
As one who does His image bear
The gift of thought God with man shared.
Thoughts perish when life ends in death
So, one can die though he has breath.
When thinking ceases in the least
Man, risks becoming like a beast.
Those who refuse to think would lose,
The traits which God in man infused.
Beware of thought-destroying courses
For they are death-producing sources.
The one who thinks knows he exists
He who thinks not, doubts he exists.
Some scholars have proposed free thought,
but what great harm their schemes have wrought.
The freedom of this school of thought
has spawned the doubting of all thought.
Men are not sure if they exist
Or even if the world exists.
The teachings of the present age
have caused this lunacy to rage.
Progressives promised improvement
At the start of their new movement.
But their social experiments
have caused societal detriment.
Thinking in isolation and pride
leads to death on the thought side.
He who will not, a soft heart gain,
will reap softening of his brain.
That man stirs before the sun, dashing hopefulness,
Hopefulness that his son will grow, not just mature,
Mature into a man, who lugs his name,
Name engraved in sweat, not pursuing eminence.
Eminence never suckled the ardor of his soreness,
Soreness from scuffles tussled in quietness and pain,
Pain he credited so his child treasures concord,
Concord cleared through hurricanes, never ephemeral.
Ephemeral is the joy, but enduring is love,
Love that drains through detriment and scabs,
Scabs that murmur, “I bequeathed all I ensured,”
Ensured bravery enough to silhouette the celebrities.
Poem by Mugisho N.
Let’s admit it and get it out in the open
That happiness is overrated, over emphasized
And hyped to the detriment
Of basic sanity and balance.
But the bottom line
Is that freedom is what we really need
And what when we get
Makes happiness a pleasant impermanence.
(8/3/25)
Shines would soon be taken off poetry,
When machines replace humans as judges,
By then wisdom will have fled human minds,
Making AI seem more intelligent.
Poems churned out will then be wishy-washy,
Since standout ones will have been discarded,
As machine junks — confirmed by machines,
So undeseving of recognition.
As more and more inferior works are praised,
At the detriment of discarded fine ones,
Our brains will adapt to produce more junk,
And our age will be known for poorer arts.
But are AI-written poems hard to spot?
When all they write is devoid of feeling,
A mimicry of professionalism,
Yet widely accepted as genuine.
Who Won
Today as the new president is inaugurated
Another conference is held
It is called the Global Labor Market
When this goes through employers can
temporarily import workers from low-cost countries
Elon Musk can import workers at his plant
In Texas for nine dollars an hour
With this organized labor will cease to exist
To the detriment for us all
Sometimes,
looking back
shows a distorted image;
a mere reflection of yesteryear,
filtered through the lens of today.
What once was will never be again,
too many lost years and spent emotions
have muddied the waters of recollection;
and so, nothing appears as clear as it did.
We all pander to fragile egos and pride
and that often works to our detriment;
especially when young and naive.
Rusty, fragmented memories
can cut as deep as any knife;
draining the heart of love
and the soul of hope.
The past is an elixir
of distilled doubts,
mixed with pain,
love and hate;
a volatile
intoxicating
brew of emotions.
And hope often drowns
within just such concoctions;
treading water in yesterday's tears.
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