There once were two lovers from Spain
Caught getting frisky on a train.
Sweaty and coiled,
Their passions embroiled,
While the conductor charged onlookers to remain.
Propaganda well well oiled
Slander all of us embroiled
Like a ripe vipers nest coiled
Dander and our blood boiled
For whatever whatsoever we've toiled
Whenever forever wherever spoiled
Don't pander the snipers must be foiled
Or our society like Rwanda will be soiled
Another huge turkey was caught
The big pheasant was housed in the vault
For consumption
Not for admiration
I'm neither talking about the wild turkey
Who’s running for President
Nor the one which is a country
Now embroiled
And roiled in turmoil
I am talking about the noisy pheasant
That we all like to fest on the last Thursday
Of November every year, and on New Year’s Day.
I can’t wait to enjoy its thighs and wings
I can’t wait afterwards to make the swings
Squeak and cry, because we all weigh more
Than before: the skinny, the rich and the poor.
Happy Thanksgiving Day everybody
The President already pardoned a gorgeous turkey.
Hebert Logerie Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Fig and Feelings
Silhouette the wary Shadow
Swaying away
flinching from the beaming Sun
Virtue a hallowed vacuum
embroiled amidst a hollow world
Bemusing minds
Wrath, swaying with swagger
Swirling with astonishment
Dripping wails and wills
along with a tempest
OUR EFFERVESCENCE-
Line of inquiry:
"conjoined with the whole
we play our life role
exuding a scent
granting love consent"
~
Filler so her soul was bubbling over wit joy;
Elated under pressure emotions escape;
Livid and lively simultaneously embroiled;
Bouncing from inner emotions escapade;
Espoused smell forth the scent of order despair;
Aroused by the turmoil of no one cares;
She’s soul delighted, and excited;
Buoyancy spirit feels energy harmony united;
She solely engaged in a shared purpose;
The water and blood in her heated to the surface;
8/30/25
For Our Effervescence Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Blisters of
disillusion
fester
and boil
Vision
rubbed raw
in the darkness
embroiled
False
expectations
lie scattered
and burned
Ignoring
our history
with lessons
— unlearned
(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
Into the Light
When we seek to find the brightest of stars in the sky
Delving so deep within our galaxy so vast and so high
In the darkness of night, objects can seem so bright
We are mesmerized by the beauty gazing into the light
When daylight comes to an end and twilight is nigh
Your eyes becomes accustomed to changes that apply
When the smallest of creatures come to life at night
They seemingly amass attracted by and into the light
When you feel so lost within a darkness oh so deep
As if you were caught in a realm of immersed sleep
Where reality and fantasy embroiled in some fight
You desperately reach out and look into the light
When our time is at nigh, our wings gifted from above
And we succumb and accept it all and feel all the love
When we are surrounded by all that is holy and bright
Is when we are told to embrace and walk into the light
I'm neither talking about the turkey
Who’s running for President
Nor the one which is a country
Now embroiled
And roiled in turmoil
I am talking about the huge pheasant
That we all like to fest on the last Thursday
Of November every year, and on New Year’s Day.
I can’t wait to enjoy its thighs and wings
I can’t wait afterwards to make the swings
Squeak and cry, because we all weigh more
Than before: the skinny, the rich and the poor.
Happy Thanksgiving Day everybody
The President already pardoned a gorgeous turkey.
Copyright © November 25, 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
An orchestra in Melbourne
Is embroiled in a dispute
With a concert pianist who had
A horn he had to toot.
He told the audience he’d play,
Not Mozart, as was planned,
But new music as a tribute
And he hoped they’d understand.
His friend composed the piece to honor
Journalists who’d died
In Gaza and his thoughts about
The war he could not hide,
Putting all the blame on Israel.
He can feel that way, of course,
But a concert’s not the venue
To trap listeners by force.
There were repercussions, naturally,
And lawyers are involved,
But no matter what the outcome,
What should clearly be resolved
Is that concerts are for music
And, with classics in demand,
All political discussion
Should be absolutely banned.
Embroiled in
Pre-dawn delusions
Assuming the
Cloud covered moon is
Destroying its symbolism
For my own amusement
As the parking lot becomes
Mystical, enlightened
Full of
Ambient apparitions
Of the eternal type
With the coyotes barking
And my
Inner self yawning
I see an old radio
Centered in the prosaic grass
I am told I must
Change the station
I am afraid to touch it
Even if the angel Gabriel came
To force my hand
I would scream like a
Ferrell cat
And
Dance like a madman
Like the saint known as the
Fool of Christ
Drunken, with glass in hand
Fooling the townspeople
With disguised piety
Hidden within his hermitage
Back to the
Vision of an
Old radio
Against my own fear
I turn it on and
Tune it to the first station
I can hear an old man
With a
1920's type
Radio host's accent
Like Pathe news
All over again
In wartime England
And in his dialogue
Thru a slight crackle
I can hear him disclose my
Location
To what I assume to be
A company of demons
Yes, this is a predicament
Too long and
Exhaustive for a
Simple poem
Tune in for the
Next installment...
I watch my kitty playing every day,
she insists on it as she is quite spoiled:
true, I am the reason she is this way,
you see she came at five years quite unspoiled;
unable to play- now she is embroiled !
She was a rescue all tattered and scared,
I washed her and tried to get her to play:
dangling toys and rolling balls as she stared,
then, that sad gray cat had a happy way;
now walks with her tail high and a sweet sway !
In the morning she gives kisses and purrs,
and my bed is full of her toys waiting:
she has been bringing all those toys of hers,
meowing loudly while I am sleeping;
I must wake for she is captivating !
I have never had a more serene cat,
but, when she plays it can get wild and rough:
often, she just comes to me for a chat,
at times, she is just some rolling gray fluff ;
I watch till she stops sighing- enough !
Works of art could have their deeper meaning
Don't take them so literally
For, only the minds that caused their beginning
Know their real history
Works of art could have their inspiration
Though embroiled and weaved in deep allegory
Unfolding them may take plenty of perspiration
At times, you could not even grasp their mystery
Words could have multiple interpretations
So do with lines and verses in poetry
Pick the one used in concept of operation
So you may comprehend their mystery
What you see may not always be how they really seem
And that's where lies the beauty
Like coded messages entwined in dream
They were meant to stir curiosity
March 22, 2023
Rosemarie is her name.
She is the fairy of my dream.
Her mere presence is a magic spell.
It makes all my worries quell.
When she waves her magic wand,
she makes all my worries gone.
The allure of her magic charm
makes my heart so calm and warm.
I didn't believe in fairy tale
until I was charmed by her appeal.
She made my world a fantasy
embroiled with blissful ecstasy.
One day, when the time is ripe,
I will make a giant leap.
In her kingdom, I will stay,
for she's the color of my day.
February 12, 2023
Wave Of Fantasy Poetry Contest (6th place)
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
I hated her
as much as I loved her
And loved her in ways
my telling would shame
Emotion embroiled
in deadliest combat
Choosing not one
—but the other to blame
(Dreamsleep: February, 2023)
I wandered lonely as a rose by Autumn's gate
as I lay there in still repose, petals strewn
I fell apart like dessert moon;
The scent that once perfumed my reign
were mellowed by September's rain
I drifted distant in the woods.
All my husks fell to the soil
each petal dried right where it stood
No gardener's hand of hue embroiled
that filament that quivered slow
like dying embers of nights glow
Shambled, windblown as the wind
beneath the last of summer's ray
regretfully I did rescind
As summer lost her fired splay
I wandered,
Lost and alone like a rose,
until the end of summer froze.
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.