Bad news is swallowed
With a grain of sour salt
Good news is absorbed
With a chalice of sweet honey.
We’re exhausted and disappointed
We’re out of words and stamina
Hope is put in parenthesis for now
And we feel that the future is very far.
Bad news is goggled and spat out
Our saliva is dehydrated and dry
Yet, like old soldiers, no sacrifice
Is too great to face the future.
Copyright © November 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
If done the shackles, fated to be,
If dusted the fates, bound to thee,
Past them, gleaned, prayers to see,
If downed, glorious, of the, fleeing me,
If pained, glamorous, with the hand plea,
And if gleeful, generous, to up and agree,
That if dated to be the fates, be it and free,
Self from creases and folds of the world as is.
If minding, the spirit of the blinds, then,
Slowly surging, the viciousness from them,
If shaken by the surge, the energy from men,
Stricken down to a point zero, if timed again,
To the core, if goggled and gazed at, till when,
Up and home, and finding strength in them gone,
And scripted, as morals of a fallen angel, divine.
If shrugged, the sanity, severed in the winds,
Find truce, safest in the sacred caches within,
If foregoing, settled, and forfeited the destined,
Find peace, truest to ties and as heavenly ordained.
#August_2022
The day had started to die
At the sea, I thought no one to see
Very embarrassed, I felt in my eye
Dark glasses I wore to slide my ashamed paces
While I goggled at them for hours
Why I made no tours, they questioned
Unto me I said, no one sees me
But I detected the ladies concerned
Proud like peahens, they moved away
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
A Poem for the Grey Shrike written on Earth Day 2016
At sunrise while asleep
I was called by a bird tweet
Like a childhood song
So sharp so sweet
Awoke. Washed. Dressed . Prepared to greet
But the voice got swallowed by the noise of the street
Oh son: let's go . This trip will go down a treat
Entered a beach garden. Green. Simple n Neat
The Mown grass was wet. And the son waded the feet
Despite the moist. Despite the light. Despite the heat
Scanned the shrubs & trees. Then heard the beat
Like a childhood song. So sharp so sweet
Sped and goggled. To see. To snap. To greet n meet
A silvery spot. Perching. Scanning. Landing to eat
A worm, an insect, a snake, a mouse or a piece of meat
It was a grey shrike. Mature. Strong. Hard to beat
Despite the moist. Despite the light. Despite the heat
Came to see. To hear the voice. So sharp so sweet
I grew up in a one roomed shack
a king size Coca-Cola space
crammed like Marlboro cigars in a pack
a place I ran to for defense
my home which some see as a plight
where my family had to find the right way
it was my bedroom at night
my mother's pantry by day
a lounge where my dad like a doc upon a cadaver dissected
The Star while his kids goggled at Luxor television
I grew up in a shack protected
by corrugated irons walls of a mansion
I thought it was the wind
roaring like a lion
Dressed in golden helment
With goggled eyes
And
Silvered streaked body
Glimmering in the spot light
Of morning sun...
Until it - fast moving thing
Braked to a halt at the red light
And I saw it was you and
Your Honda
Traveling south!
Anchor down, wind at ease all the sailors out to please, one by one they step off deck and into the arms of who knows heck.
For a night of drinking, a fist full of titty, and a bottle of good ole smitty, to drowned out their long and grueling lives and sink in pity by those beer goggled cuties who in the end get their share of good ole boys that breathe the sea as if it where air, waiting for someone who's never there, just to care.
By Leah Munoz
Pen name (Leloo Pair)
Commingled human sweat permeates the atmosphere.
Grunts and clanging iron greet the ear.
Leotard clad women, without body fat, spring.
Pumped up upper bodies of tattooed men expand.
The smoothie bar dispenses recovery drinks.
Stationary bicycles travel miles, without leaving the room.
Joggers hypnotized by music turn treadmills.
The pulleys of the muscle machines sing.
The locker room calls after a brief and intense workout.
Does the fattest guy in the building have to walk around naked?
The jets in the spa remedy any muscle pain.
Relaxing, I watch an old woman pacing the bottom of the lap pool.
The heated pool is occupied by goggled children,
their swimming lessons taught by a woman in a sensible swimsuit.
They must conquer natural fear of the water,
and demonstrate proper swimming form, as parents look on.
A steam room awaits those who can stand the intense, wet heat.
The wooden walls of the sauna room smell of eucalyptus oil.
Water thrown over hissing, heated stones creates a wall of vapor.
They say the perspiration it induces cleanses toxins.
I am not so sure……but I will return next week.
Looking through the smoke hazed beer goggled past,
I wonder how I got here?
Tripping over my own inabiltys, and falling flat on my doubts.
slipping under the door to peek through the keyhole.
I wonder how I got here?
Should have died many a time.
Looking down the barrel at the bullet, pull it!
I wondered how I got here?
There by the grace of me, go I.
I wonder how I got here?
I wonder?
I goggled my powered screen
And saw venom founded smiling faces
I watched tongues dance in deceit
And there chameleon lips
Bounced and marched to this ignominy.
They propagate their obvious robbery
With unconvincing window-dress
And celebrates their heinousness
By camoflagging this mist-free fraud
Jaw agape,on my tongue a sweet liquid descend.
What is this they've given life?
That enveloped the day in darkness
Mere anarchy, cut loose eventually
By these sheep skinned wolves
We afore-elected in ignorance.
To hold on; they turn their bloody self.
Alas! our screams reach not a drum
But their whispers fill all ears.
The decision we strenuously made
With the lines adorning our thumbs
Has been quashed by these gangsters,
And to their mercy our future lies.
Lisabi, Oronna, where lies your eyes
Obanta et al, why remain so muted
And watch them deface
Your hard founded land.
Flooded veins, broiling anger
Lost at home, talking to strangers
I come to cross roads
That have no name
Conquering obsessions,
Never ending game
Emotion, a rusted chain
Forgiven, not worth saving
Defeat, I kneel to no man
Obsolete, manufactured again
Wonder wasted
Completely inebriated
Slowed reaction
Sense terminated
Spirits sight
Beer-goggled delight
Grounded, never to take flight
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