THE ROADS I'VE TAKEN
I've traveled down some of lifes long roads,
they get you there, and they take their toll.
I've cruised the freeways without a care,
the top down, tunes up, wind in my hair,
and I felt each low road bump and hole.
Can anyone know what a road will bring
having never traversed it before?
'Tis safe when the roads are close to home,
'twas fated when they all led to Rome,
but life is the open road, explore.
Who know himself tries to pick the road
that suits his unique disposition.
When the dusty road chooses the man,
and he's doing the best that he can,
the journey brings dreams to fruition.
Fresh black asphalt winds among the trees.
The open road calls neath skies of blue.
The road doesn't care to know your name,
regardless of your fortune or fame.
In this ol' world all you have is you.
Lost and alone on a dead end road
there's no one else on which to depend.
Life never promised you easy street
or cursed your path so you can't compete.
Your life to live, or not, in the end.
derecho of twenty-twenty-three
the sky got black in the afternoon
many people ignored the sirens
their houses began to shake and squeal
intense praying and screaming began
the lights went off, power lines were snapping all over town
there were sparks all along the freeways
the dreaded dastardly derecho was here
unlike a tornado, this wind was a straight tunnel
sixty miles wide, two hundred and fifty miles long
people stopped videotaping and ran to their bathtubs
throwing their children in first, lying on top of them
roofs were torn off
semis were lifted and tossed
landing upside down and sideways
in minutes our town was turned into a war zone
uprooted trees were sliding down the sidewalks
this enemy was fierce and determined
many of us did not expect to survive
hugging strangers after the aftermath
I wanna spend Thanksgiving in a UFO
Thankin' the Cosmos for starlight's glow!
With veggies and fruits on my plate,
It's a Cosmic voyage that sure feels great!
Flying high, my saucer in the sky,
Mushrooms, squash, and peas roll by.
Thankfulness guides my heart, my art, my song.
At my Thanksgiving table, love belongs.
I want to paint like DeChirico in a dreamy haze,
While Roman columns fill my nighttime gaze.
Jupiter, Venus, and Odin are flying near.
My table is in Asgard with good mead and cheer.
Flying high, my space Saucer in the sky
Bluebirds and Cardinals are singin' nearby.
Planetary voices join in tune
As I sail beneath the Carribean moon.
I'm a Cowgirl, a pilgrim, a wanderin' woman.
The American spirit makes me feel free
With mashed potatoes and Seitan Stew,
Thanksgiving grits, yellow squash, and linguistic brew.
I'm flyin' high, my saucer in the sky.
Blessed be all, with peace to guide
Thanksgiving, the best Cosmic Holiday
Intergalactic with forever racing freeways!
I miss my mother and father
I miss walking fast
And driving a car on freeways
And city streets
I miss housecleaning
Well no, not really
And I miss going on trips
And shopping in stores
I miss my husband’s arms around me
And his tender kiss
I miss my cat
And not taking pills
I miss my brothers,
My sister and too many friends
I miss Obama and government sanity
I miss having energy
And going to work
Mostly I miss my freedom
To come and go as I please
Sad that it won’t be coming back
Not in this lifetime
Trucks hauling away defunct Malls.
One city has been transported to another,
until superimposed, only the name are different.
Freeways chase endless miles,
looking for more things to shift,
shlep and shoulder.
Ninety per cent of everything movable
is assembled by 100 percent of new renters.
Oil, cattle, and inflammable gaseous toxins,
are handled by cab radios, satellite commands,
and shredding rubber.
The main drags compete to be anonymous,
wear the same masks, many disintegrate
or morph into closed forever signage.
In the concrete encircled,
whittled-down woods,
lovers try to imagine a better place to live,
one that is not yet on the road.
Intersection of
Overwhelmed & Exhausted
A decision to make
Venture out onto that
Autobahn of Freeways
Shake & Bake
Wide Awake & Overtake...
Turn the other way
Crash & Burn
Maddening price to pay
Yet ~
Overwhelmed & Exhausted
A DECISION to make
You were once strong
Never wrong
Now you are dead
I have so much pain
To swallow this verbena
You are indeed dead
I have so much pain
Deep in my heart, no stamina
And of course no legs
It's raining cats and dogs
I weep, wail and cry
I suffer, smother and die
I don't know what's going in my bones
Through me, what’s rocking and shaking me
And causing controversy
Where the sky is littered with drones
You were so pretty
And obviously so strong
But now you're dead
No, this is not a song
I do not know what to do
If I should scream and shut up
I do not know what to do
If I should put up or give up
Or let drown deep in me
The heavy sorrows and the fatal weights
Now everything annoys me
The day and the night
I cannot find the right
Detour on the freeways
Too many roadblocks and setbacks
Too many dregs that won’t go down
The pipes in downtown
Now you are dead
And I am utterly sad.
Copyright © May 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
We were pleased to claim this land
for Jesus.
We raised cities that were bear free.
Our faith in 'better and bigger' soared;
meth fueled crime leapt still greater.
Cracks appeared where a garish paint
had weathered the sky.
Plaster flamingos crumbled,
angelic limbs hung down
caught in ceiling fissures.
Plastic arrows littered pink concrete.
It was a Mall dream; it was our dream.
We began to covet the uncollectable.
In far off lands worker ants labored
to deliver all things desirable.
Homespun was undone,
yet plaid clad truck wranglers
still wrote their country songs.
Impedimenta impeded the improperly taught.
Log cabins transported themselves
to theme parks,
too little hope clogged casinos floors,
rage stalked the freeways uncaged.
God spoke to us,
urged us to fill storage units
with long raked-over junk,
holy relics in duct taped boxes,
all piled most neatly
in that persnickety old-timey way
of the Midwest.
A sinewy faith built rough cabins.
We were pleased to claim this land
for Jesus.
We raised cities that were bear free.
Everything soared;
later crime and meth rose even
higher.
Cracks appeared where a garish paint
had weathered the sky.
Plaster flamingos crumbled,
angelic limbs hung down
caught in ceiling fissures.
Pink plastic arrows littered concrete.
It was a Mall dream; it was our dream.
We began to order stuff
from worker ants in other countries.
Plaid went in and out of fashion,
Horseless cowboys kept up the long tradition
of truck wrangling.
Impedimenta impeded the improperly taught.
Log cabins transported themselves
to theme parks,
too little hope clogged casinos floors,
rage stalked the freeways.
God spoke to us,
urged us to fill storage units
with our long raked-over crap,
sad holy relics in duct taped boxes -
yet neatly piled
in a persnickety Midwest way.
Wintery mix
Asthma inducing air
Windchill is fourteen below
Ice under snow
Cars doing donuts
Skidding across freeways
Seeing your breath
Wheezing kicks in
Cheeks pink and frozen
Middle of the USA
Iowa Kansas Nebraska
Frozen unification
I transformed Iowa’s meadows and forests overnight
Changing her children’s delight at first snow to fear of the cold
Gloating and laughing, I introduced some to frost bite.
What did I care if their pinky toes fell off?
That’s enough, my husband said.
What did he know? I whirled away, flicking him with ice.
I was not finished for I did not want to merely be a blizzard.
I wanted to be the worst snow blizzard in Iowa’s history.
I slickened their streets with the blackest of invisible ice.
I allowed icicles to drip from the roofs of their houses.
Their snow was piling up now, in five foot snow drifts.
Was I finished? My husband asked me. Ha!
I swirled up my snow and shot a snowball into his eye.
My winds picked up speed; I was on a roll.
I tossed snow so thickly in the air that the drivers could not see.
The freeways and schools were closed.
I waited all day long for the radio to say worst snowstorm in history.
Little did I know it would take about two years before I heard this.
In the meantime I kept things snowy, icy, and impassible.
Reveling in my power. Oh, I took down the power lines too. A fantastic time!
Inside my dendrite pools of connections thoughts were whirling
Stirring up highways and freeways of unusual concern
Caught up by tornadoes of doubt and despair we were twirling
Since schools are closing doors rapidly how will children learn?
Idealism, pride and hope soon helped me rapidly discern
Parents are their first teachers, and stand on the front line.
They want the best for their children; everything will be fine.
Drove for miles to discover my self
From swerving in tight corners
To full speed on freeways,
A red coupé with dynamic design
From it's aerodynamics to all it's features,
GPS system like omniscience:
So I never get lost!
To its auto-drive: the super will to continue
Trunk so big for those massive loads
From allegorical to conceptual:
I gotta hide the arts!
Its a long distances, filling fuel:
That sacred fluid moving in me,
Igniting the engine: my mind!
From Albert's house to Blavatsky's,
I see the A and B, but I'm taking a U turn
To the cross roads: I know I've been gone-
for a while but my madam patient!
There's a place I sometimes visit in my mind,
where skies steal the soft color of robins' eggs.
Breezes brush through golden sea oats and I find
soft, white sand dunes where I sit and cross my legs
to count multi-hued shells high tide left behind
and listen, as for food, a circling gull begs.
To the sounds of tumbling waves, I meditate,
assured this sense of peace I can recreate.
Finding solutions mandates vigilant thought
beyond noisy freeways and our cluttered lives.
In webs of our own complications we're fraught.
So when a moment of frustration arrives
and snared in the web of life's hassles you're caught,
transport to shores where serenity revives.
Close your eyes, imagination takes you there;
just visit your private place from anywhere.
February 4, 2019
THOSE WERE THE DAYS
I can remember when I could speak to strangers
and they'd smile and speak back with minimal dangers.
I can remember when married people wanted babies
and most men were gentlemen and most women ladies.
I can remember when we didn't lock the door
and fatherhood was special and motherhood, not a bore.
I can remember when we took pride
in the kind of jobs we worked at to stay alive.
I can remember when the aged were respected,
and loved by their families and never neglected.
I can remember when there were better times
and people weren't on drugs scrounging for dimes.
I can remember when God went to school
and children weren't ashamed to obey the Golden Rule.
I can remember when we felt love for each other
and drove carefully on freeways with our sisters and brothers.
I can remember when neighbors were our friends
and we talked to them and told them about where we'd been.
Janet Marie Bingham
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