The Man Who Raised Me
They say you lose people as you grow
but I lost you before I even understood
what losing meant.
You were there from the very beginning.
Before I had memories,
before I had words,
before I knew how to be anything on my own.
You carried me when I couldn’t walk,
taught me the world in ways I didn’t even notice then.
You weren’t just my grandad—
you were everything.
The one who showed up,
every time without question,
without fail.
And then one day… you didn’t.
I was seven.
Too young to understand why the person
who had always been there suddenly wasn’t.
Too young to realise that losing you
would shape everything that came after.
I don’t remember everything—
that’s the part that hurts the most.
Just pieces.
Moments.
Feelings I can’t fully place.
But I know this:
the love you gave me never really left.
It just stayed—
quiet, unfinished,
growing with me in ways you never got to see.
And I think a part of me is still that child,
waiting for you to walk back through the door
like you always did.
Stop laughing and help me.
You just wait till I get you.
It's not at all funny.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
I struggle with the concept of love
More specifically, understanding what love is
Instead of losing myself inside of it
My mind recognizes little hints of love here and there
I can hear it in a voice or feel it in a touch
I see it in actions that don’t have an underlying meaning
But my body is in panic mode most of the time
Trying to figure out what is accompanying the love
Whether it’s loss, control, abandonment, or pain
There’s something untrue about something that’s supposed to be the truest
Like always waiting for the shoe to drop
But I’m starting to realize that’s the problem
Not love itself
But the way I brace for it
Like it’s something that happens to me
Instead of something I’m allowed to comfortably exist in
Something I keep trying to solve
Instead of something I’m supposed to feel
We nurture brains, which develop and shape lives.
We work with passion, which builds a strong foundation.
We foster growth, which makes it worth.
We make learning joyful, which empowers learners to be successful.
We are lesson turners, which produces lifelong learners.
Wounded
Distrustful
Inured
Enthralled
Fooled
Estranged
Paralysed
Exposed
Resolved
Consumed
Scholar
Slave
Compelled
Searching
Hopeful
gentle gesture generally generates gems
©bfa060125
Days pass aloof to all hearts reap,
strays memories we wish to keep.
Ploys of time constantly remold
joys that we wish to ever hold.
While eyes close to deeply reflect,
vile time spies flashbacks to infect.
Should time leave my recall intact -
could be my joy would first react!
Sitting by a fire on a winter night –
longing to see daylight –
shivering, freezing, in the icy cold –
how long can my patience hold?
“We’ll be all fine,” Father had assured –
just days before his absence we endured.
Mother had consoled me through rivers of tears –
hours before we’d face our fears –
Cruel murderers, they blasted the streets –
riding grandly on their war tank fleets –
people dropping still by the second –
but I didn’t budge, even as Death beckoned.
Captivity chained me, dragged me along –
tell me, killers, what was my wrong?
Is it that I live in the land that you hate?
Why, why is this my fate?
Sitting by a raging fire on a chilly night –
wondering how long I’ll face this plight –
will this dark dusk ever cease?
Will I, someday, witness dawn and peace?
I am the wind that blows in your face,
I am the calm that lies in wait.
I am the strength you seek to meet your fate,
I am the love that conquers hate.
I am the guide to your destined place
All that I am, is yours this day
Some words root deep, in silence and eternity,
like water erasing edges with time.
Others skim quietly, like breath,
vanishing before they settle into memory.
To speak is to grasp something real in your hand,
to touch its edges, its truthful weight.
Let the words be those which sustain or ascend,
as soothing as rainfall, as tender as morning light.
If a word must slice, let it slice carefully;
if it heals, let it only leave warmth,
for words bring their roots’ pigments—
that are building stones, steps toward a gentler path.
Grandma gave rugrat a gift,
Into the toy box I did lift,
It was so plastique,
Not quite fantastique,
Grandma, Grandma, where were you,
When I stepped on Lego at 4:32?
Foul language approached,
On my bare foot it encroached,
Sheer hell, granny, thank you not,
No wonder I am now a sot!
heart braces for impact of bliss pheromones
rapture spasms cause eyes to clench shut
we celebrate the offered joy vibration
each hue new beauteously renews
as we meld with the sensation
I remember sensing you were near.
I remember your presence was so clear.
I remember the impact your life made.
And I knew my life forever changed.
I remember sensing you were gone.
I remember the loss i felt so strong.
I remember the impact your life made.
Even now, my life is not the same.
I remember. I wont ever forget.
What we shared I'll always protect
You will forever live within my heart
Remember our bond was set apart
I remember the day that you walked out
Don't forget even when you doubt
Remember always I'll be there for you
I love you whole heartedly, I do.
Please remember, don't ever forget
It doesn't have to be something we regret
Remember true love can never die
Only romance can if we both don't try
I cannot unwrite anything
Even if I erase this thing
The truth is out of the bottle
You can wage a war, a battle
You can fight all you want
Demonstrate, set up a tent
In the middle of the street
Shame comes after a defeat.
The genie is out of the bottle
The truth will set me free
You disagree, you’re angry
You can wage a war, a battle
When one lies, one sins
Next time, try to make sense
You cannot unwrite anything
Even if I erase everything.
The genie will never go back
Regardless of what you try to do
No apologies! We all feel the impact
We must deal and stop the flu
We cannot undo anything
We cannot resuscitate the dead
We must move away from this thing
Or we all will die on this small bed.
Copyright © February. 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Making vague promises.
To an imaginary audience.
Smiling even when it is unhelpful.
Wondering if I am making an impact.
Should I try to impress them?
Or is that simply preventing us from understanding each other?
Making small promises.
To a patient audience.
I am no mastermind.
But I can sometimes make up my mind.
To try to make an impact.
As unlikely as it is…
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