There was an old man who marched in Dublin,
danced to malachite past, wore shammocks lean.
Guinness stout in clinking glass
he drank whole night en masse.
Through the day he dreamed Celtic dreams umpteen.
My Garden Colonised
In spring, I worked so very hard
To make a garden of my yard
I planted seedlings, but alas
A hoard of pests arrived en masse
From all the pests a plant can host
I really hate the greenfly most
I wash him off with soapy suds
And still the blighter chews my buds
Then there’s our friend, the sneaky snail
Who leaves behind a silver trail
To show the world where he has been
But leaves no seedling to be seen
Then yesterday as I peruse
Behind the dust bin, out of use,
a nest of ants had made their home
And how those fellows love to roam
While leaning on my spade I thought
How all my work had come to nought
Should I just slab the whole damn thing
But then….
I’d miss the dawn of spring.
A raindrop falls whence came --back to the sea,
Another, it so haps, on lotus leaf
To shine forth under sun for a while brief,
Yet, every drop gets seldom so lucky
As to get silk beds-- blades of olive grass,
Becoming an early dawn’s pearly dew
To capture unfolding time’s crimson hue.
On dust some get buried in graves en masse,
Some get a cherished trophy if modest--
A scaly trunk aloof that opts to stand
In a barren desert's dry scorching land,
Some fall in rain forest with scores of rest.
All this makes me to muse on destiny:
Is it a chance random that opts to be?
For sure, it is Nature’s celestial dance
That unfolds at random as choice-less chance.
_______________________ __
Sonnet |01.03.07, revised Dec 2024| fate/destiny, time, space
Poet’s note: The sonnet-ending couplet does not end the sonnet, but poses a question and goes on to answer, and in the process stretches the sonnet to sixteen lines.
All these politicians seem to agree
The immigrants are responsible
For the poor economy
They've come here taking jobs
No employment for our own
They're being housed in luxury
Multi generational homes
They're coming in on boats
Theyre coming in en masse
We're gonna be consumed
By the stalwart impasse
This story is a myth
But one the masses share
The fat cats feed the media
To distance from the stare
They want the lower classes
Who seek to know the cause
Of their continued poverty
While the rich show no remorse
These immigrants are human
They're fleeing for their lives
They're seeking help and shelter
From those in the archives
They want to live a normal life
One free from war and fear
A compliment should be bestowed
That they see that place as here
Each time Trump says the country’s a wreck,
they go out to the roads to inspect.
If Woody Woodpecker
had had a fact checker,
they’d be feeling his feathers to check.
On The View though, they all get a pass
when Whoopi cushions spew forth their gas.
Trump will jail your miscarriage,
end interracial marriage,
and lock up his opponents en masse.
"Flowers, the emblems of beauty and fragrance proudly assert that loveliness can catch every eye and brighten even the gloomiest heart" ~ By Poet
look at these white blossoms,
attired in snow white velvety frocks,
unassuming and elegant
under the canopy of the starlit sky.
though tiny in size,
en masse they exude a hypnotic charm.
birthed in the stillness of night,
they proclaim their presence,
in dazzling white.
decked by dewy beads,
they dance freely unnoticed.
some perfume the air
with exotic scent,
permeating the nightly breeze.
during day, they wait to be garlanded,
by the amber beams of the sun,
longing to be hugged and kissed
by the amorous butterflies.
these simple beauties are the silent partakers,
of life’s most beautiful romance!
I’m living dead, I’m a bad nation
As bad as you like to percieve
The easiest for condemnation
En masse, so maybe I’m not me
Because I’m always undistinguished
I am a crowd you ignore
All personalities relinquished
It doesn’t matter now what for
I cannot see a film director
That could have done a sequel to
Forman’s Ragtime, like a reflector
Under the name of Ragtime Two
A story of the insulated
Would not attract lot of attention
It would be booed and claimed outdated
And all the dire consolations
They’ll put into quotation marks
And I’ll be ridiculed to bits
So no more travels in the dark
No waiters bringing fish and chips
I’m cursed just for the case of birth
This thread will never be unravelled
For me all governments on earth
Are one – its obvious at my level.
In days gone by, when people lost their minds
They used to say the time is out of joint,
It is a discord in the spheres that blinds
Our natural reason, makes us miss the point;
The movements of the planets and the stars
Are interrupted by some meteor,
Or Earth and Venus misalign with Mars,
Causing plague and pestilence and war.
These seem to be just as convincing reasons
As any that a rational man can find
For such elite establishment malfeasance
That drives societies en masse to lose their mind.
Those whom the gods destroy they first make mad
And goad them to tear down the best they had.
Not everyone
Is having a Merry Christmas
Not everyone
In the masse
Is enjoying a happy one.
Many are attending masses
Many are shopping in the malls
Many are suffering in the hospitals
Many are busy in the classes.
Not everyone
In town
Is having a Holly Jolly Christmas
Not everyone
Has a crown
And a palace.
Many are sad
Many are mad
Many are carrying a cross
Many are sick and lost.
Christmas is about doing our best
Christmas is about working with the rest
Christmas is about Hope and Peace
Christmas is about Love and Feast.
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Hebert Logerie Saturday, December 24, 2016
Not everybody is having a safe and joyous Noël
Not all are enjoying a holy and holly jolly Christmas
Many people find themselves living in pure Hell
In countless countries, civilians are apprehended en masse
They are under sporadic and constant bombardments
Brigands violate the rules and the Ten Commandments.
Many people find themselves living in pure Hell
They are under sporadic or constant bombardments
Not everybody is having a safe and joyous Noël
Bandits violate the rules and the Ten Commandments
In countless countries, citizens are incarcerated en masse
Not all are enjoying a holy and holly jolly Christmas.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Winter don for the mystery—
Of happenstance now frozen in;
That shakes itself from Her history,
The pace of whirling snowy flakes,
In the night's long, long pass—
The next morning to satiate.
Shadow self en masse
Dashed
Cracked with glass
Winter don for the mystery—
In the night's long, long pass,
Cracked with glass.
Rules are for fools.
They don’t teach that in schools
But that’s surely the way it appears.
For to me, what I see
Is that, to a degree,
Rules are writings that nobody fears.
So the grass that I pass
Says no dogs, but en masse,
There are always a bunch racing ‘round.
On the train, folks refrain
From the need to obtain
Means to pay, so fare beaters abound.
More and more, I am sure,
Life was better before
When we treated the law with respect;
But today, there’s no way
To keep outlaws at bay,
So the worst’s what we’ve come to expect.
Scum Buckets
(For a contest)
Can American’s be
As a whole, like a tree
With branches far and wide
That is constantly tapped
Collecting green sap
As in taxes from our thin hide
Out of hard working hands
All over our land
From Eugene to Nantucket
That fill’s Washington’s till
Where they convert it to swill
That’s poured into scum buckets
Where in essence, transpires
Is that cash vampires
Sponging conmen, that do suck it
Corruptly disperse
The blood from our purse
Into their sordid scum buckets
And so that scum goes
To places we appose
Were it spreads like a virus
But why should our pay
Be pissed away
To ruses undesirous
It’s time that they stop
Leeching every drop
Of our personal property
By declaring suck it
To their scum buckets
Which en masse we will empty
And without their scum
There will only be some
Left working in DC
And the rest will survive
Like all people alive
To benefit humanity
When existential angst and doubt meet faith,
the saved hold on and cleave unto their God
through prayer; like Job's wife, apostates oft' saith
“Curse God and die!” when lightning strikes the rod:
consumed by the bolt's power, it loses
hope in the celestial Creator (leaven
of doubt leavens the saints; even Moses,
the Nile-cruising infant sent as from heaven
by Lights, could not invoke ten commandments
from the Mount to erase Israel's trespass
of lacking faith.). The old and new testaments
of antique, ancient time (when giv'n en masse)
reveal and offer for posterity
faith's assured reward and reality!
The marchers are 'useful idiots'
chanting 'Palestine, from sea to shining sea'
Their apologists say they don't support Hamas
but the words in their chants betray them en masse
Be they Palestinian Arabs themselves
or thoroughly brainwashed students
The marchers' intent is crystal-clear
a one-state solution
run by Hamas reappears
This is no time for talk of 'Peace in the Middle East'
The hour has come to slay the Hamas-Palestinian beast
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