Long Swamped Poems
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It's heartrending to lose a spouse
A very special woman who shares the house
With your body, your heart and your soul
It's very hard to feel losing your whole
Your being, everything you have
It's utterly sad and strange to feel that five
Of your best fingers are cut and numb
It's inconceivable to feel lost and dumb
For quite a while. Losing a darling spouse
Is like being swamped in a toxic niche
Full of bees and ants. A greedy leech
Has sucked up your blood and your mind
And your brain is not feeling too kind
It's painful to lose a wonderful spouse
Your world has turned upside down
You cannot smile. You cannot frown
Everything is different, even your house
Tears are flowing like a river in the summer
You feel hopeless and helpless. And it's somber.
Copyright © February 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
THE HOLY GHOST TRAIN
through Covid terrain
Groping in the present with fogged up view
I look for a lead, for someone to guide.
Are we together? Does Covid divide?
Who do I trust to discern what is true?
Who would deceive? And why? What is the cue?
How do I know if I'm taken for a ride?
Swamped by the unknown on a foaming tide,
what of tomorrows? to plan or review?
Seeking someone to blame drives a divide.
A hostile spirit tells of who is at fault.
As if on a ghost train with scares at each jolt,
I shriek in the dark as with spooks I collide.
Hold on a moment, but hold on to whom
when we are distanced, two metres apart?
In isolation the future seems masked.
Time to sanitise my thoughts of such doom,
seeking for words that may help to make sense.
Cleansed by the Spirit now let's take a ride
on the Holy Ghost train with God at our side
with blessings to come from surprising events -
despite the unknown, ever watchful for more.
We can hold on in faith, even alone,
abiding with Christ as in love we are known,
living in hope till a new way is shown.
By faith in God, trust is surely restored.
Death met at work, a months' long livestock voyage
Appalling fate found forty men in ocean's contempt
Churned in days' worth of typhoon crazed torment
Upside down violence turned trapped crew to carnage
Water walled onslaught slammed seafaring stronghold
Cattle float stark on dark ocean, hooves raised, bloated
Vets embarked the journey, to bovine well-being devoted
Vessel of mass measures, by sea vehemence controlled
Taken from life during a shift, loyal young strong sailors
Skilled handlers, pined for infant families, scared at home
Mammoth stern dug beneath unending depth, groaned
Instruments steady didn't warn of ceilings spray showers
Tenacity kept crew clutching straws in relentless storm
Hull refused her duty, rising cold belly swamped within
Dutiful men tended soiled stock, their outlook grim
Windows disguised skywards, horizon stolen in scorn
Deck gave only feasible exit point, though death due either way
Going under or leaping off, bodies driven on stiff vein adrenalin
Forty faithful crew, prisoners in their workplace, remember them
Ninety children learn that dire time leaves their lives in disarray
7th September 2020
It rained for 3 days,
drenching torrents plunged down
as if a dam had breached.
There was some local flooding
but by and large only minor damage
a lot of litter and flotsam though
‘sky wreckage’ some called it.
The butterfly house was swamped,
its netted walls were ripped ragged
by broken tree limbs,
the seams in the wooden roof
split apart and a wild,
wind-riding rain rode in.
Purple Admirals were beaten down
by the gusting blows,
then drowned.
Painted Ladies were murdered
their mangled decorative forms
no longer cosmetics.
Longwings no longer flew
but in death, swam limply
in the splashing puddles.
A disarray of broken wings
carpeted the deluged floor.
Somewhere in this caged house
sodden chrysalids sway upon fractured twigs;
eventually there will be fluttering wings,
but not here in this ruined shelter
were the air still drips wetly
onto unreceiving
and unmoving antennae.
The carnage was brutal; I’ll tell you no lies.
The carcasses lay all over the ground.
The devil incarnate, thinly disguised.
Exposed in the open, relief not around.
Relentless, unceasing, no mercy was shown;
They pressed for advantage where one could be found.
They flew kamikaze, not acting alone,
With emerald green eyes, golden evil rained down.
Damned near omniscient, they nimbly dodge foes,
Escaping when odds seemed impossibly thin.
Pummeled their target, a thousand small blows,
Snatching by drops, the sweet treasure therein.
A chink in the armor, defenses were planned;
The enemy’s weakness: a repeatable tell.
For the briefest of time before the bite lands,
All senses are swamped, overcome by just smell.
The message was relayed out to the front lines:
Wait to the last moment, for that is your chance.
Before they attack, just watch for the signs:
Their eyes will go dim, they’ll go into a trance.
Reports were encouraging - those that came back.
Momentum was shifting, but surely not won.
For some waited late and mistimed the attack:
The enemy killed, but more damage was done.
Cloud cover rolled, and the skies turned to gray.
It may have been lighting, but no one could say.
Perhaps they had suffered enough in the fray,
Though the deer flies withdrew, they’d be back the next day…
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for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 1 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 06/14/2022
Your face,
that of an angel.
Your giving soul,
of beauty.
My life,
in storm,
lost,
adrift,
then,
my heart anchored,
in paradise.
I should never have been so lucky,
waves of dread had swamped me,
but you, a gift of beautiful,
a gift of rescue,
of buoyancy.
Our speech is golden,
words rich with raw honesty,
a prelude to firestorms and hurricanes.
A fragile beginning,
delicate sunbeams,
shining through our broken glass hearts.
we focus,
we ignite,
a merging never before experienced by my withered soul,
a euphoria,
only accomplished when minds and flesh unite in absolute love,
and time is lost now,
worldy existence is all but a blur of amnesia,
you are everything now,
just everything,
the hand, the glove,
the land I love,
Just everything.
My home found.
Yet, what else, what more to discover?
I possess infinite regret for leaving your harbour.
Other land held no such bounty.
Bitter fruit from withered branches, on hollow trees.
Oh how I dream of you now,
but I am a shipwreck,
my vessel is broken.
My heart beats with burning memory,
the rising tide does not extinguish.
If I could only remember how to sail,
if only I could forget.
VII
There never was an army quite like Xerxes’.
Hyrcanians, Medes, Egyptians, Syrians, Scyths –
soon, Greece would grovel at its tender mercies –
a fate more gruesome than the grimmest myths.
It drank whole rivers dry. Took three days with
the crossing of the bridge. Then came a scare:
as Persian lava swamped its xenolith,
the portents were not good. A pregnant mare
gave birth to healthy offspring. But it was a hare.
VIII
A blundering boxer trying to swat a fly,
the Persian force could lunge, but could not kill:
it lost all credit at Thermopylae.
The Greeks, hard pressed, were in the battle still.
To win a war, you break the other’s will,
and this was not occurring. Could the key
be naval warfare? So, for good or ill,
Salamis earned its place in history.
The fleets would clash there. Whose would be the victory?
IX
A tyrant’s strength is his Achilles’ Heel.
His habit of command, of being obeyed,
occludes capacity to see and feel.
To trap them at their moorings seemed a raid
assured to smash the Greeks. Their fleet once flayed,
they could not go on fighting. They must lose.
But Persia’s pride, colossal numbers, made
disaster certain. Tangled, cramped, confused,
the sharks became the bait. For Xerxes, dreadful news.
X
“My bridge. Is it still standing?” Xerxes asked.
Oh, in that question, what a universe!
The pampered prince who - up to now - had basked
in sunshine felt a clutch of fear, and worse:
the tide of fortune, swinging to reverse,
began to drain him of all certainty.
The bridge was now his lifeline, and his curse,
his last hope and his vulnerability.
Persepolis lay far away, fenced off by sea.
XI
So, despots kneel before their own adventures,
become the playthings of their crazy schemes,
contract with Fate, creating wild debentures,
condemn themselves by sure-to-crumble dreams.
Unhappy with mere wealth, they seek extremes
which bring no comfort: sick ambitions bloat
and fester. Most familiar of themes,
Great Xerxes’ boasts grew more and more remote,
until the day his restless minions cut his throat.
Notus comes creeping furtively from the south
hot and bothered from the blazing summer sun.
The wind of change...concealed it launches sudden storms
as clouds pile up across the sky, dark and towering,
lightning flashes, thunder drawls, torrential rain descends;
rivers swell to bursting point; fields are swamped, crops destroyed.
Then once again he sneaks away, planning his next move.
His neighbour, Eurus, wants to show he’s no less able.
Bearing his inverted earthen vase he goes along
clumsy in gait and spilling water on dry soil.
His forays from the east tend to be unlucky.
Autumn fades with a sigh on Aura’s gentle wings
as ice-cold winter rushes in impatiently
from northern frozen lands to take its place
goaded by the domineering force of Boreas
who moves ahead with strong, intense authority,
his violent temper uncontrolled. Despite his age
he pushes his galloping stallion to the limit
riding forth relentlessly, cloak billowing behind,
his white beard curled; shaggy hair spiked and frosted.
Roaring, across the land he speeds with utmost haste,
a sacred conch shell grasped firmly in steely hand;
tremendous power he exerts and blows aloud
while humans cower in dark caverns, shivering.
They know his moods and fear his devastating wrath.
In their minds, princess Oreithyia’s forced abduction,
rape, and carnal satisfaction are still fresh.
They yearn for winter’s bitter ally to move on
so that the gentle Zephyr enters from the west
bringing with him rainbows and showers of spring,
calm serenity, greenery, flowers, shades and hues,
romantic feelings, fiery passion and intense love.
Ultimately, all four have to heed and appease
King Aeolus, firm ruler and keeper of the winds.
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*Aura = breeze goddess
*Oreithyia = mountain Nymph
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18th December 2014
Contest: Gods of Winds
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placed: 2nd
Day One was Our first
meeting...........
Enamoured in love with your
charm,
I left my house to meet you.
As fresh as the morning dew
shining in the sun.
My heart throbbed in solicitude.
You stood as dry as seaweed
beyond waves reach,
Endearment like a cactus in
barren land,
perseverance like a piano,love
tug at heartstrings.
Feelings of affection less ardent
in you.
As I wore my heart upon my
sleeve,
And unfolded my fists to show
your heart in my hands,
That the love swamped your
heart like a tide.
And blinded to the differences
with infatuation,
We returned with essence of a
strong predilection for each
other,
Dusk of Day One, inception of
new chapter in our lives !!
Intimate cushion of your embrace
Eyes open and cocoon was just a farce
Elapsed moment a dream
Present abode like any other place
Absent mortal impression on sheets unwrinkled
Madeup lodging, your absence more pellucid
Arrogance, an escort to rising phoenix
To other's sensitivities, response less jumbled
Swamped in syrup of shattered illusion
Alas, intelligence in shade of celestial govern
Sequences escalate, wisdom unsanctioned
Streamlines quill in a marathon sea of expression
Awaiting the echo of love
One's choice worthy despite your defiance
For even though seems like eons
Still young, vehemence of one's emotions
A taste of air, par horizon