Long Crisscrossing Poems
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An endless night of love
A dream and erotic love
In a harmony of caress
And melodious symphony of happiness
Everything is perfect tonight
The sky is starry in the dark night
The sleeping moon lights up the whole sight
What a wonderful night! What a beautiful life!
The eagles are in a deep sleep, in the fresh air
From a distance one can barely hear the breeze
Crisscrossing in the atmosphere
Everything is perfect tonight
The sky is starry in the dark night
The waves are silent. We are at peace
And the fish are swimming in the currents
Oh! What a feeling! It's a jasmine fragrance
A shining love
Oh! A lively love
What a wonderful life!.
Copyright © April 2020, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
This is a translation of the poem Un Amour Sans Trêve by Hebert Logerie
Sailing oceans on my clipper
She was named the Song of the Sea
I'm her only female skipper
My name it is Rosie Marie
I love to hear the songs of whales
Sailing oceans on my clipper
Folks gather for to hear my tales
of a humpback known as Flipper
I would hand feed him smoked kipper
As he swam alongside my ship
Sailing oceans on my clipper
Singing was his bargaining chip
Charmed and entranced by his whale song
Crisscrossing oceans with Flipper
Loving this humpback for so long
Sailing oceans on my clipper
Written 25th January 2020
Contest: Distant Refrains
Sponsor Joseph May
4th Place
Picture 3
8 syllables per line checked with: howmanysyllables.com
Contest Strand No 670
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Rita was visiting. She pointed off the road. Let’s go there. So we did. It was the CIA - Culinary Institute of America. Like Auntie Mame, my aunt was a world traveler, an adventurer. My parents were not. My first taste of different.
fancy and fruitful
red plums and pastry aplomb -
a close call with life
There is crisscrossing of paths. One of my military assignments was Oahu, where my aunt no longer a spinster (her dad’s old fashioned label) was living. I’d traipse off to meet her, riding my moped. We’d have lunch at JC Penny’s coffee shop. She’d be surprised that I’d travel so far but there was something wild and adventurous in my twenty-something blood; and we only had one car.
a moped useful
for trekking to and from, up
to island stars
My son was almost one when he traveled with us to the Hawaiian islands. He’d go much farther, to Guam, and meet the woman he’d marry. After becoming a submariner chef, he’d win an Iron Chef contest, which would lead him to mom’s hometown where he’d get two degrees at the CIA.
does God sow these scenes
lead us to places unseen -
wildest dreams are birthed
Life is an adventure. I’d not had the faith to believe that but God had surely shown me the smorgasbord. On the smorgasbord of life, I ride the waves, the crest’s exciting, the bounce inviting.
God’s faithfulness sets
a table with bread and wine -
prolific support
Sea waters seem stagnant during this pandemic. We are at a lull, missing people and our lives. We are starved for the loaves and fishes God provides. I must have faith, this time around.
hunger greets God’s word
creator-restorer of faith -
snowfall like manna
2/28/2021
Love is a dream that begins
Love is a chimera that begins
It’s a ballerina who dances
It’s a poet who thinks
It's a bird that sings
It's the freshness of mints
It's the lie of the ancestors
It's the gossip thing
That's all we see
That's all we hear
It's the old man who lies bitterly
It's the shadow we stumble upon
It's the pretty or the ugly woman
It’s the existence of the soul
It's our sad imagination
It's our painful inspiration
It's the farewell of lovers
It’s the escape of a charming being
It's the death of emotions
It's the end of the passions
Love is a dream that never ends
Love is a nightmare that never ends
We don't know what else to say
While crossing or crisscrossing the ages
And by stepping or jumping over the clouds.
P.S. Translation of ‘Les Multiples Facettes De L’Amour’
by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Heavy backpack
on sure pavement.
Travel purse, crisscrossing
my sternum.
Following faithfully behind,
or nearby,
my spouse’s steady pace;
so excited.
We are in Frankfurt;
soon we’ll be inside the museum.
This was a side trip.
We saw that we would be clanging through.
The train would stop,
as all trains do,
at certain spots.
So excited!
What wonderful artwork will be
inside?!
Suddenly
I fly -
splat…
There was a trap;
An upturned frown.
I hit the ground
hard.
Zipped up, in my bubble jacket,
hood up,
in shock.
I will fast forward -
we see first
the “Good Samaritan.”
I’m on the ground,
in pain and panic.
A faceless man,
along with my man,
helps me up.
I never saw his face.
He hardly saw mine.
I’ll never forget his care;
sounds simple I know.
The only injury was to my ribs.
My purse stabbed me
with sunglasses, cellphone and small journal.
Could have saved me from worse disaster…
Though I hit the thumb side of my fist
and my knee, neither bothered me.
I could breathe.
No outside bruise.
No need for emergency room.
Just static…you know.
It gets better every day;
and I have a story to tell
about
how I am thankful.
And so it begins
The game of life
The dominos of love
Falling where they may
The timer activated
Fresh out of a box
Learning the rules
As we go along
No plan or ruse
No rhyme or reason
Just out for some fun
Moving game pieces
Taking turns
At winning and losing
Rising and falling
In endless succession
An ebb and flow of emotions
The tears the laughter
Riding a roller coaster
Of highs and lows
A detonated cosmic launch
Mingling interstellar orbs
Crisscrossing arcs of destiny
In a waltz of muses
Or divine intervention
Read on air by invitation ~ September 8, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on January 2, 2019 for contest FREE VERSE STYLE ONLY sponsored by EMILE PINET - RANKED 5TH
Everybody needed something,
and there was always something in the world that needed somebody,
debt is all about connections to affections,
sustenence to stimulus is only half of the formula,
igniting the impetus is provenance of the pursuit,
debt's birth is in the body of temptation,
in the language of lust,
we all find reasons for indebtedness as architects provide strengths for stones,
always a tune to toil for,innumerable impulses to imbibe in the heart's hollows,
needs & wants wants & needs,a crisscrossing of the conscious,
vacillation like breath on candle flame,
on which branch will your bird discover the berry,
what good is satisfying the basics if we are denied exploration of the scenics,
wonderment wrapped in wishes of mocking mortality,
robes of rose petals,
the less we create for ourselves the more we fawn for the fingers of others fantasies,
impatience an instrument for the Devil to revel and drum,strum and hum,
born into a carnival of the careless and criminal
the Devil has a dream and your're his favorite dancer,
you hear in his voice a reflection of yourself and drown in delerium,
a community of stage hands supports your every scream
and silence your shouts for sovereignty,
buy the whole of the basement
but be prepared to be buried there,
a necropolis of creditors and debtors,
expired expressions on the faces of orphans kept alive by water colors
from the pallet of pleasure and perfumes of paradise,
as the spectacle ends the Prince of poverty greets us where dogs bark baldly
and the air is gray with cold,
he grips our hands with a lion's paw and cries coolly -
J.A.B. 2011
Jet Lag
By Franklin Price
12/11/2016
Above the distant mountain tops
Blue skies, contrails of white
Clouds made at thirty thousand feet
By jet planes in their flight
A myriad of vapors
Crisscrossing in the air
I wonder where they're going
Getting quickly, here to there
Could be to cross the country
Cross the Atlantic in the night
So fast the body's reeling
Knowing something isn't right
The sun is up and shining
When it's time to be in bed
Hard for the brain to comprehend
The Jet Lag in your head
Get up and out on local time
Adapting better day to day
Just when you have adjusted
Must go back the other way
I followed the lines on the map of my hands
The ones I was born with, tattooed in bands
They never seem to make up their minds
Vertical lines meet horizontal ones in bind
Dark lines like boundaries starting to climb
Crisscrossing my life, my love, my mind
That long line of destiny running straight
between what was and what is now my fate
This map is but a handful of lines
Major lines like rivers flow in-between
With those little lines flowing into streams
They somehow stretch the distance and
then split apart
To form those bridges of life
helping us connect to our hearts
Lines entwined when we hold our hands together
And pray looking up at the sky who seems to wait
Maps throw up options with forks on the road
Slow and steady now I move with times load
The end I await, but cannot escape
In the center of my palm as I cup my hand
the swirling water engulfs me
Stealing the breath from my lungs
My map is open and dripping wet
Lying face up by my side
Leading me to heavens gate!
20.4.22
I travel incognito, using a name I once found
in a book of minor sorrows.
I have a longing for the sea, yet languish here
behind the wheel of a rental,
crisscrossing arid lands with many miles ahead.
A white plastic bag flaps on a thorn bush
it could act as a windsock but turns listlessly
in the breathless air.
A GPS guides my mind over a flickering map
toward an ocean that is too far away to reach today,
a place where silver fish leap in the aqueous air,
only to pause as still as stone in an ice-marbled sky.
That shore for now, is bereft of place and time
it can only be imagined through gaps in
rising walls of dust.
The hatchback seems to trundle slowly over
dinosaur bones, dry axles groan under
tired springs.
A hundred miles ahead a fish-restaurant
is getting ready to close its doors for the night.
A Motel 8’s neon lights flicker in a sea spray.
On an unseen shore, snow crab dance and sing
like sirens in the rolling surf.