Long Punishable Poems
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She gives me a sassy knowing dare me grin as she begins to devour her ladybug sandwich.
I watch her crown nod up and down in rhythmic quiet as she eats in gargantuous bites.
In fascinated horror, I try to imagine taking my turn, and pretending a normalness.
I know what will happen if I balk in any way, even a blink, at partaking of the country’s delicacy.
I dare not offend, knowing I had better gobble mine down in gloriously grateful gulps.
The others in the hall have stopped eating to watch me, they are nearly silent now.
We all listen to the queen’s exaggerated chomping and gulping, meant to bully, and they do.
It would be a giant mistake to insult her majesty with close-minded ways. It is only a lady bug sandwich.
She gives me an almost imperceptible nod. It is my turn to make this dish look enormously delicious.
The masses are watching. Retching would be the largest insult, maybe punishable by death.
Not wanting to add a second of insult to their culture’s delicacy, I pick up my sandwich, picturing potato chips.
Salty, delicious, tiny bits of potato chips, I tell my mind. Only potato chips. And lady bugs! My mind yells.
I stop chomping, suddenly fearful. My mind is betraying me. I already have acid reflux. I wait in horror
As my delicious sandwich begins to rise, suddenly, and with a horrible feeling of dread.
The guards move forward with their machetes, waiting.
'twas 'pon a Venice 24-hour layover, when two male members of our airline crew had quite the separate, yet different, adventure.
Flight attendant Number One, who speaks Italian, thought it would be fun to fly his drone in St. Mark's Square... it was fun at first, until he was arrested for doing so.
The drone was confiscated and could possibly have become a Christmas present for a Venice cop's cousin (or, perhaps not).
Among the many convoluted and unfathomable Italian Laws, one states; 'Drones must carry third-party insurance.'
This one did not and, violating Italian aviation rules is an offence, potentially punishable with fines of up to €113,000.00.
Flight attendant Number Two, who speaks nary a word of Italian (nor Chinese), having had a hard day sunning himself at the Lido beach, returned to the hotel and turned in for a good night's sleep.
He woke in the wee, dark hours with the feeling something wasn't quite right.
Turning over, he was appalled to find, not something but, someone sound asleep, and snoring, in bed with him.
Could it be, he had left the door to his room unlocked?
If so, what a turn-up for the books this was.
Turns out, it was a little old Chinese lady, clad in her little old Chinese silk jammies, sleeping peacefully!
Not to put too fine a point on it but, this Flight Attendant couldn't make lemonade out of that lemon, old as she was, as, he happened to be gay.
She wasn't there when he went to bed and, completely baffled by this turnabout, he could only wake her and, as not word one of English did the little old oriental lady speak, shoo her out the door... presumably, disoriented as she was, to roam the corridors, where she may yet be to this day (or night).
When pilgrims first arrived upon Plymouth’s shores,
They were wary of Indian customs and things they didn’t know-
Suspect of the Indians having powers from the devil, and more,
The belief of witches inside their own colonies did grow-
Witchcraft suspicions weren't confined to one colony alone,
Many believed Satan himself could possess both body and soul-
Behavior was questioned - whether outside or inside a home,
And accusations towards those disliked - sometimes a personal goal-
In 1642, Connecticut made witchcraft punishable by death,
And for 108 years it remained as a capital crime-
Twelve executed before 1692 crying “innocent” until their last breath,
Witch-hunts became more prolific, right after this time-
Witch trials are a period of dark history for us,
Mass hysteria flourished in Massachusetts, Salem town-
When eight girls ate rye fungus then acted odd and made a fuss,
“BEWITCHED” the doctor said, for no cause of illness could be found-
Initially only three accused, but the list grew as time went on,
Until thirty were identified as witches by the end-
Both men and women were named and it didn’t take long,
For the infamous Salem Witch Trials to begin-
Nineteen women were hanged on Gallows Hill in 1692,
And a man not answering charges, was pressed to death by stones-
Fifty more died in prison awaiting trial for witchcraft review,
The court would convict on verbal testimony alone-
Only one of the eight trial judges had a conscientious reaction,
Presiding Judge Samuel Sewall, publicly apologized five years later-
For his condemnations, he felt a tremendous dissatisfaction,
Begging for forgiveness, his remorse couldn’t have been greater-
In 1750, witchcraft was removed as a crime in our colonial society,
The Puritans who had fled the grasps of England’s persecuting hand-
And tasted freedom had gained some bad notoriety,
When they persecuted those different, on their new American land-
As I sit alone in my cell
My mind starts to dwell
On the fact that I’m still here
Trapped in my own hell
Alone and imprisoned
By my own fear
As I continue my sentence
Year after year
My own prison I've built
Out of my own depression and shame
Unwilling to forgive
I have only myself now to blame
The foundation was laid
From my mistakes and bad choices
Bonded and strengthened
By all the angry condemning voices
The walls are built high
Solid and stout
To insure that I never
Climb or break out
Though my crimes were not evil
To be punishable by death
Sometimes I imagine it so
That I can breathe my last breath
Loneliness and heartache
Are two things I know well
Along with sorrow and pain
That keep me confined to my cell
One day I may be pardoned
And finally set free
From the emotional chains
That are now binding me
When that day comes
Will I be reformed and made whole
Or in this cell will I stay
Another condemned and lost soul
I wrote an email to a friend. She challenged me to an exchange of poetry (we both dabbled in writing). I was petrified, having only written a few limericks as a child, and a few poems in my adult life motivated by major life events. I started to compose an excuse, but then, decided to make it into a poem. I was hooked.
I’m glad to hear you’re back in action.
It gives me a certain satisfaction
To know that you are not in traction
Or have a wisdom tooth impaction;
And I would like to celebrate
This happy outcome of your fate
With a poem in which I could relate
Thoughts on this, judged first rate.
Unfortunate-lee -
I cannot see -
Myself writing poe-tree.
The very best that I could do
Is tell a story - one or two -
Which happen to be true.
Even the process of writing fiction
To my comfort level causes friction,
To make you read it, a dereliction,
Punishable by conviction.
So, I will not commit this crime.
I can’t even find the words to rhyme
And if I did, they’re not worth a dime.
Sorry, I cannot write a poem this time.
Does it come natural or do I dig deep
Can I do this when I’m smiling or only when I weep
Are ideas always there or unexpected like a thief
Are feelings everlasting or can they be brief
Is there only right and wrong, black and white
Or are gray areas considered to be alright
Am I trapped inside a box, bound with shackles and such
Rather like Houdini where the limits weren’t much
Is there only what’s inside me that can be found
Or do I use what I see, what’s all around
Only original thoughts that swarm my brain
Or do others’ suggestions help me to maintain
Should I change the way I think, act, or feel
Should I chose to accept it and learn to deal
Could this be from a dream where there aren’t any rules
Could this be reality where my thoughts are merely tools
Things that take action because they speak louder than words
Or hidden, silent, private ideas of, well of course, truly yours
Always walking in a straight line, directly to my destination
Sometimes go in circles overcame by confusion and frustration
Am I peaceful, in charge, centered, and eager to please
Am I enraged, controlled, off balance, concerned about me
Can I be selfless and selfish both at the same time
Self preservation, necessity or punishable crime
Should I give people my all and run myself thin
Should I save it for myself, to help ensure a win
Do I find the words or do they find me
Is it all of the above, I guess we'll just have to wait and see
*Image of Revelation 19 by Pixabay.
The Savior And The Sound
In your delicate state of mind, upon your awakening, you were uncontrollable and had done an egregious act, punishable to the highest degree of the law, which is death and being that you are both obtuse and indigent, I will undertake your case pro bono and, per se, mediate on your behalf to the best of my abilities, whereto, I will consecrate my efforts in a reduced sentence based on an insanity plea, and after speaking with your doctors prior to our meet, I've been informed that with the continued diligence, medications and therapy sessions, you're able to control your delirium status and be of sound mind, ergo, I extend my hand to you, shake it if you agree, if not, I'll have leave of you. (hands shaking). Have yourself a good day sir, till we meet upon your summons to court.
***The obtuse and indigent delicate soul, whose awakening to control of his delirium status, free of any egregious acts saw his consecrate savior who will mediate on behalf of the sound.
2019 September 10
If you Google ‘a convicted felon’
You’ll find the name of a person
Who’s rich, popular and flamboyant
You’ll see his original mug shot
Ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not
As we speak, this felon is dying to be president
Again, again, in order to avoid jail time
As we know, if one is convicted of a serious crime
One must obviously be arrested to do the time
To pay for the criminal ills done against society
Brothers and sisters, normally, once one is found guilty
Of so many counts, one is handcuffed immediately
And incarcerated to pay for the odious crime
Such conviction is punishable by at least
On year in prison and countless restrictions
Including the loss of civil rights are on the list
So far this person is treated differently: no actions
Are imminent. This convicted felon is still free to roam
The streets, the cities, the states and the Nation
Like he is untouchable
Like he is irreproachable
And many wonder and ponder: When will he go to prison?
P.S. This poem is dedicated to all innocent people who are now sitting in jail.
All wrongfully convicted individuals must be released immediately.
Copyright © September 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous books of poetry
Roses Of The Field
Village square has flowers of rare coloration
Not appearing in nature
Painted, ugly, plastic without a scent
Aromas are condemned, not authorized by local politics
Illegal in the kingdom and the region
To sell or grow or pick a living plant or flower
Is punishable and the penalty is death
Flowers are the enemy of the state according to government decree
Citizens and country folk must buy their plastic flowers every week
A dozen at a time to help with taxes
To avoid execution for non-compliance naturally
Roses that come from nature have lovely fragrances
If you come to our town wearing one
You will be executed on the spot and planted like a tree
Decapitation is a possibility
People with real flowers or plants are gambling
Face termination every day, but only once
So to the mountain out of sight I pedal day and night
My bike and I hide out on weekends with my aromatic friends
A patch of deep red roses wait for me behind the little orange fence
Next to the brook and yellow shack we hid from authorities
Thorns cause pain but not the same
As government intervention
I touch and smell the real petals on my flowers and they touch back
We must conceal our love from state and plastic fakes
And hide beneath our bed of roses for nature’s sake
Created on 12/17/14 for Mystic Rose - ROSES ROSES ROSES – Poetry Contest
merry christmas
hope you dig the flowers this year
nobody talks to me anymore
i sometimes pray for something symbolic to converse with
merry christmas
the ice is falling aggressively and it hurts
fond memories of you makes me blind, deaf, and impervious
i oftentimes pray for an alternative world where my smile and conversation means something
happy new year
i am so frozen right now that i feel so warm
the effervescence of your presence uplifts ever after all these years since
i regularly pray for a vibe inspired universe where the law is love and hate is punishable by death with no appeals or exceptions
happy new year
a sudden light shines on my with a smile undefined by the modern world's standards
oh how i wish i could give you a big old southern hug and then just take a trip to our favorite beach where Charlie awaits
i always pray for survival in the form of moving on in the new normal world that we now live in
until your birthday, enjoy the holiday season
you will Always Forever be on the cusp of my mind and my heart
wishing you were here so that you could comfort me and alleviate the fullness of my fear