The last leg of the fight
The final round of quitting
How quaint to say the final quit
How ironic I must sprint to stop
Years of wildling down and retrying
Years of saying this time is different
However, this difference has a difference
However inane, God delivered a new purpose
Truly every round was different
Truly these chains became rope
Today I cut that rope
Today I free myself
The finale sadly doesn’t exist
The finale is never being out of the fight
I will walk tomorrow and the next day lighter
I will always stay at war but it will be just an amber
Roadwork noises by my window
Fertilize this dreary day
I am doomed to live in limbo
In the realm of disarray
So I’m punished with the sounds
And I wait to be released
They’re renewing the old ground
When they finish, I am pleased
Let me enter to your garden
Of the everchanging glow
It’s a paradise we’ve gotten
Playing games we used to know
I'm amusing you with knowledge
You are laughing till I'm gone
Till behind your back the foliage
Casts a shadow over lawn.
There is one, wanting much,
Material posessions and such.
To him, quantity is number one.
To him, it's about 'show and tell'.
There is another with whom
Quality is second to none.
To him, it's not about silver spoons.
To him, it's about finishing well.
bored today so I wrote a poem
about a dog, a cat, a squirrel, a home
dissatisfied, I stopped at that
“Take a break!” meowed the saucy cat
the dog kept quiet, the squirrel ran away
I’ll pick up this missive another day
Hope that at the end
I’ve not left anything on the table
that all was said and done
and I’d lived life to its fullest
AP: 3rd place 2025
Everywhere I've ever been,
Whether that place was thick or thin,
It was my desire to make it feel like home,
And not hit the road again and roam.
Everything I've ever done,
I've always desired to get it done.
Every space I've ever occupied,
Even if it did not taste like mother's apple pie,
I was motivated to fill that space with determination
And inspired to finish my course with dedication.
A mama turkey and her brood
Were pecking by the road,
Not far from where I passed a squashed
And bloody mid-leap toad.
It isn’t often that you see
The circle Nature’s made -
The start and finish points of life
So vividly displayed.
Yet hopefully we humans have
More time for in-between,
Though sometimes, like that toad,
We exit early from the scene.
And if today puts a period on forever
I’m glad I got to spend it with you
I’m glad we got to drink in a million golden sunsets
I’m glad we got to dance to our own music in the rain
I’m glad we got to laugh during the birth of a thousand sunrises
I’m glad we got to collect our tears to be used to soothe our pain
I’m glad we got to calculate the destined spaces where stars land
I’m glad we got to position our dreams on clouds suspended in an ocean of blue
I’m glad we got to sip from a delicious cup of honey drizzled silence
And if its time to stop chasing forever-together
I’m glad I get to cross the finish line with you
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
Tis the vernal hour when nature's luster peaks and winter dirges no more wend.
Airy notes from feathered breasts, dutiful drones, bejeweled butterflies ascend.
Upon the indigo daze of an afternoon, my angel in lepidopteran disguise
danced along this florid patch with plush pirouettes, calling "Rose, arise!"
"Still here, a bloom to seek and hold." Groggy, dolt, my petals of discontent...
quiet cold stole my blush, then by cruel degrees, I learned snow's resentment.
But in a sun-lit-breeze ballet, God as big as the butterfly, weighing like nothing
revealed the signs of a world renewed, and ushered me thru the rite of spring.
The year just started;
Yet, it is almost over.
Today is the second day of the year;
Yet, it is with anger,
Fear, impatience, and horror
That we want another year
To show up at our door.
Give ourselves a chance.
Before we dance,
Let's pray first,
And stop the frivolous lust.
Let's quench our thirst,
So we can enjoy the party,
And be more relaxed and happy.
What's wrong with human beings?
We refuse to take it slow. Things
Should not be happening like that.
Of course, we're going to be fat,
And ugly, if we're not being careful.
'Cause we gobble everything down in full
Force, like gluttons, like fools in the pool.
Take things easy, little by little,
Step by step, stop being frugal.
A year just ended;
Yet, it is with anger,
Fear, impatience, and horror
That we want another one to start;
Please chill out and have a heart.
Copyright © January 2017 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Tripped the electricity in the forest,
tumbled to a faceplate on the ground;
The shock raised the pulse in my wrist;
A storybook vision may confound,
star-crossed sits doomed to diminish;
Ground yourself in nature’s mound;
Let yourself revive and replenish,
kiss all the petals of a wildflower;
Renew your freckled faded finish;
Bathe within a rumbling rain-shower,
untamed fuels an aura of power.
.
whilst your head
back
it's tilt'd
whilst your breathe
rush'd
out
whilst your frenetic
hip's
limb'z
roam'd
i
me
mine
my
merely
wuz admiring your
sweet
sound
I hope every minute you think, a flower of guilt blooms. I pray your garden of guilt goes on forever.
Your living is a privilege you shouldn't get to have.
Does your harm have no boundaries?
When you look into a mirror do you cry?
Every one of those tears you squeeze out of your eyes are just the tears of those you have harmed.
If you cried for every minute of every day it couldn't compare to the billions of tears you have created.
A monster in the making since birth.
No one could even fathom how you got on earth.
Do you ever walk through your mental garden of guilt?
I wonder..are all the flowers white?
Do you fail to recognise that all these flowers are blooming thoughts of the ones we had lost.
And all you see are inanimate, dull flowers?
Flowers that may never bloom because they had fallen ill to your hands.
Betrothed to your hollow headlines written in the speech bubbles on my phone screen
Enough is enough when I discover that I want a hologram of you, laying next to me
The build up breaks me down like crumbling bricks turned to dust at your feet
The reason I stay is only connected to the reason I came in the first place
Written with jets in the sky over America for every wandering eye to see
Or engraved in secret code, purely meant just for you and me
I’m torn between the alternate option of you only loving me for a piece
The life I chose to lead, running after the uncertain aftermath of you reaching for me
Words hold either all my thoughts, or have no meaning at all
How you chose to perceive my actions, is what controls the fall
And when it ends, with time as the main contributor to our lives
A longing script inside my mind that goes internalized
Everything dies by our sides
Everything fades in our graves
All of the life goes back to the soil
For death is the finish line
When the sun gets dark in your life
There is a cure to show the power of your destiny
Life paints a picture in many colours
So we should often embrace the darkness
As a pattern of brokenness, brings us closer to new discoveries
When the sun gets dark in your life
There is a greater measure of fulfillment
So it is vital to cement the Value of
Passion, Purpose, and Perseverance
The rain falls on the good and the bad
And this should make us realize that
The sun will not always shine in our lives
But we should remember
That nothing can stop the sun from rising again
When the sun goes down in your life
There is more to life and
More reason to live and finish your purpose!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
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