Still one full moon we shall enjoy looking at, in summer season
Heave is astronomical period equal thirteen days
More than three heaves of this summer fruitful season had gone
Lè yon fanm renmen ou
Ou pa ka fè anyen mal
Ou ka chame li ak yon ti chanson
Nan men ou, li pa bezwen anpil.
Lè yon fanm renmen ou
Mond lan sanble li trè bèl
Tout bagay anfò, an pinpan
Lè yon fanm adore ou.
Se tout ane a ki printan
Ti zwazo yo ap repoze e yap chante
Timoun yo ap jwe e yap ri
Gen anpil bonè ak kè kontan.
Lè ou voye flè pou li
Lè ou bay li bèl bijou
Li bo ou tankou yon ti bebe
E li ba ou akolad pou tout yon ane.
Lè yon fanm renmen ou
Ou santi ou ekstrèmman byen
Kay la gen anpil, yon dividal manje
Paske li bay ase pou vant ou plin.
Lè yon fanm renmen ou
Syèl la klere epi li ble
Lanmè a manyifik e trè klè
Lè yon fanm renmen ou.
Lè yon fanm renmen ou
Solèy la cho e li pike
Nwaj yo ap vwayaje
Lè yon fanm adore ou.
Copyright © fevriye 2020, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève.
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè koleksyon powèm.
This is a translation of the poem When A Woman Loves You by Hebert Logerie
Heave Me Back Home
He grasped the reins across the breadth of me,
recrossed his arms to control the whip and me.
My heart dares not stop, lest I be tangled in the mane.
Dare naught to break the pace of hooves,
now that we've passed the inn, and they,
...heave me back home.
***'Jamaica Inn' where shady and unscrupulous characters reside, and Mary Yellan, their neighbor whose suspicion grows...
2019 May 12
*1st Place*
Free Verse or Rhyme Poetry
~~Eve Roper
Alcohol
Withdrawal
~ Never a good time
Yo heave ho
People must pull together.
Yo heave ho
No matter what the weather.
Yo heave ho
No matter what skin or feather.
Yo heave ho
We’re all in this together.
M-ay you heave a sigh of relief,
E-nding the hour of being blue;
R-ight decision you have made.
R-eally glad and happy for
Y-ou.
T-ime to heave a sigh of relief,
A-s you have won over the strife;
N-o more tears in your face,
U-nfazed by the trials of life.
D-ay twenty-six of January,
R-apture replaces the grief;
A-llowing you to take a deep breath, heave a sigh of relief.
Upon the arctic floor, I wait
Crouched and undefended
It's time, I guess, to accept my fate
And walk this road unaided
I heave my wasted body
from my final resting place
Stretch out my disused muscles
My first breaths resonate
The unaccustomed motion
feels like seeing to the blind
It seems it's been a lifetime
Since my footprints lay defined
I go in search of something
That confirms I'm still alive
And though you took my breaths away
Without you, I'll survive
For all this time I assumed
I was waiting to be rescued
When all along, I was my hero
I shouldn't have waited for you
Young hands gripped the red raw rope,
For a fight to the ultimate death,
Each team to march, to a tantric tune,
Stabbing a stomp of feet with each breathe.
Ready, set, go! and the “Heave!” was heard,
The rope: a tightrope on which one could walk.
All attention and teamwork was focused too,
To fly the black flag over chalk.
Team A had the anabolic anchor,
Team B, well, they had none.
Team B’s anchor was a simple idea,
An idea that weighed a ton.
One-two-three-pull, one-two-three-pull,
A strategy both primal and tame,
Lead to dragging Team A’s defiant defence,
And winning the war of a game.
Upon the arctic floor, I wait
Crouched and undefended
It's time, I guess, to accept my fate
And walk this road unaided
I heave my wasted body
from my final resting place
Stretch out my disused muscles
My first breaths resonate
The unaccustomed motion
feels like seeing to the blind
It seems it's been a lifetime
Since my footprints lay defined
I go in search of something
That confirms I'm still alive
And though you took my breaths away
Without you, I'll survive
For all this time I assumed
I was waiting to be rescued
When all along, I was my hero
I shouldn't have waited for you
The river floats, carrying me
away from nights, out to the sky,
where leaves are tossed, as whispers grow…
retracing hours, when memoirs beckon.
And sparrows fling above me now
my breathing grace enshrined in stone…
among the lanes and endless roads
this calling mild, so warmly dear.
I touch the flame of quiet stars ,
and long for all that's safe and warm
from what I know is mine to keep;
with four seasons bringing me home
to drift, drift on with every heave…
O knowing not when time will end
upon my faith my thoughts relieved…
the drink of music, a love complete
Graceful the crest of my new land,
unto its bed , new morns will speak
about all my wild and gentle dreams…
till the moon inscribes my name, while
all but a soul is laid to rest.
Any Poem written in August
NOT for a contest
Sponsor:Broken Wings
8/30/2015
From Buffalo to San Francisco,
from Fargo to El Paso,
you don't need the tobacco.
It has got to go.
Give it the heave ho.
If we want to live in a northern latitude,
to the winter’s weather, we must adjust our attitude.
In the cold temperatures, we have to thrive.
Keeping warm is what we need to stay alive.
I certainly never get any joys or thrills
when I have to pay higher heating bills.
If I want to enjoy myself on any winter’s day,
shoveling snow is certainly never the way.
Fender benders make all the claims adjusters sick
whenever the roads get icy and slick.
I want to see the flowers in my garden grow.
To ballgames and beaches is where I want to go.
I want to give winter the heave-ho.
January 24, 2013