Cosmic Adventure
There, upon the launchpad, the countdown proceeds
as bolts explode, and the umbilical apparatus releases,
and massive amounts of energy bursts from engine ignition
to create propulsion thrust and lift-off reaction
for the vehicle’s escape from Earth’s gravitational attraction
in sequential stages, skyrocketing into the orbital trajectory
of slingshot phenomenon to the universe of cosmic adventure,
likened to explorers in olden days piercing the unknown aperture.
Through the porthole, astronauts marvel at the spectacular scenery
as they watch their country on the blue planet disappear gradually.
Emotionally restrained, the astronauts resume their mission,
methodically pushing buttons and recording observations
in a four-dimensional continuum relativity experience,
limited in scope by the laws of scientific ingenuity.
The vestiges of slavery methodically remain.
Blacks are being killed in broad daylight daily.
Blacks are discriminating against systematically.
Systemic racism is a cancer with a behemothic pain.
The symbols of slavery refuse to evanesce like
A shameful cloud lazily hovering over our head.
There is too much hypocrisy around the sad bed,
And too many racist tail-waggers are ready to attack.
Too many unwell uncle toms are not emancipated.
This is still a highly peculiar world. People don't mean
What they mean and many impostors can't be trusted.
The struggle must continue. Fights are never clean.
Backstabbing is prevalent. The injustice is unbearable.
Life is precious and priceless and yet hope is inevitable.
Copyright © June 2020, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Millions go without food
While feel-good stories blare
Vibrations shatter ideas
That prevent humans from care
Look around next door
Poverty parades the streets
Money minds mansions
While war drums methodically beat
The contrast is a golden calf
Erected at the city square
Rich and poor, sinner and saint
Playing at musical chair
At the front of the class
Suffering is our teacher
Trying to escape her rod
Humanity dives deeper
The soil aids our descent
The weeds gather 'round
We aim for TRUTH
While they purposefully crown
....intelligence
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11-10-2025
Time stops for no one Poetry Contest
Sara Jama
From the first heartbeat to the very last
From the first cry to the last gasp
Life and time rise and then fall
The hands on the external clock never pausing
As the legs of the day keep moving
From dashing sunrises to dashing sunsets
To the everlasting stars and moons in the sky
To the gravitation pull of the tides
Life keeps marching on
Orchestrated like and infinite
To the rhythm of the seasons
To the spins of the earth
Time never sits
Time never sits for anyone
Even when we're gone
As the sands of time
Funnel through our hourglass
Methodically, esoteric, and destined
Each pebble is a milestone in our lives
Each pebble adds purpose to our internal clocks
These heaps of pebbles lead us up the hill and down
From the first baby steps, childhood to adulthood
And to the lifetime of discoveries
From baby blues to aging greys
These stepping stones mark time
And our existence though short-lived
Where our internal clocks naturally yield in the end
As light begets darkness
And only then does the time sit inside our window
Outside nature continues its course
Beware of Time
She won't love what came before
Time loves but Itself
A true Narcissist
She won't turn her head for you
Although outstretched
Her arms won't point out the next bend
Arrow hands never to embrace
Methodically she schemes
In metronomic steps
Only up towards Babel
To reach the Gods who Thunder
To become One Herself
Time won't wait for you
Time cares not for you
To the end of Itself
Time wants to be revered
Don't make time for Time
She won't reminisce
"blind iris"
my ire is
i'm not Eyre
to be loved
mechanically
molded mason
maiden made
methodically mad
can't you tell she
is a she
demon not
a demon
is she
for
she
frantic
pray
prey on
dreams of
dreamt of what
you were and what
you would like
and love to
be
me
Three sister winds,
Ephemeral progeny,
Spawned by the sun's relentless
But passionless heat,
And the earth's inexorable
Grinding rotation:
Sirocco dances across the vast emptiness of the Sahara;
Mistral roams over the rolling plains and briny lagoons
Of the French Camargue;
Santa Ana, mistress of the paradoxical
Lush aridity of Southern California.
Solitary nomads these three siblings,
Never meeting,
Rarely resting,
Always appearing unannounced,
Creating with cold dispassion,
Then leaving in their wake,
Their own ephemeral progeny:
Summits and trenches,
Hills and valleys,
Crags and craters.
Sad reminders of their brief visits
And lonely passing.
Continually shifting,
Eternally sifting,
Maternally treasuring,
Methodically measuring,
As if carefully counting each precious grain
In the sands of time.
Turn of An Unfriendly Card
(Tarot 3 of Swords)
I cannot empathize with a shattered heart.
That image of a fragile, breakable baby pink orb
Is insulting to how I feel.
The turn of an unfriendly card depicts three swords
thrust into a still beating heart
I feel the sliver blade of that first sword
plunge hard, deep and succinctly.
I gasp with the pain in my chest
I feel the second as it severs sideways
and tears my heart from side to side
and as grief overwhelms my shredded heart,
the third slides neatly, methodically
down the middle until it dismembers
the connection to keeping it all together,
and I double over, sink to the floor, rock my body
and cry.
What I avoided is staring at me
daring me
to accept the inevitable and grow from upheaval
Become something greater that the puddle I’ve collapsed into,
grow something strong from the richness
of the blood-meal soaked earth.
The sword hurts and tears again while being pulled out
in necessary preparation for the healing to begin.
My heart is not fragile.
Flock Plus One
Crouching among a gaggle of
dabbling Canadian geese,
a brown skinned child pushes back
long black hair,
intent on building a tidal pool
of which he can be King.
Extending a ridiculously long neck,
a goose wades gingerly into the water,
snapping his wings forward in a fluster,
indignant with the cold.
Another approaches the boy curiously,
black eyes assessing the construction;
haughtily disinterested, it continues ambling
along the inlet.
The sporadic hiss and honking of a gander
whose life mate is being wooed by another
doesn’t faze the child,
methodically tapping his palms
along the outskirts of his pond.
Another goose watches him,
unconcerned,
from her nest on a muskrat mound,
tiny hatchlings in yellow down
chirp soundlessly.
Spittles of rain dust the child’s
ebony hair
and the gaggle’s black feathers.
The cluster huddles around the boy,
having seemingly accepted him
as one of their own.
My life, my love, moments lasting, making memories, lessons learned, I listen most leisurely, methodically, meticulously, light-heartedly, laughing magnanimously.
As keep doing good to many people usually
Their lives keep changing day by day
Which is wonderful on this earth.
As keep counselling some drug addicts methodically
Their lives keep changing day by day
Which shows kindness on this earth.
As keep praying for people with problems habitually
God keeps hearing the prayers and help them day by day
Which is so good on this earth.
As a true speaker keep speaking the truths regularly
Some people can be comfortable occasionally.
Which is normal on this earth.
Here there was morning now
Then there was midnight madness
Murderous monsters massacaring
Many made Malcolm
And Martin martyrs mystifying
Masses methodically most memorable
Measured morning mundane minds
Made miniature mostly mute aaand
Time and time and time again again
Again and then and then Maitreya to
Socrates? Mocking mountains
Disappeared then there those
Majestic Messiahs mistaken for
Strangers again again again again
And then and then now when....
Daylight!! Catch a fright! Bloom!
GOOD AFTERNOON!!
quiet.
Marine metropolis,
manatees moving methodically,
mackerel moseying,
maiden mermaid muses,
many much moxie magical mermen,
magnetic, masculine, mystical,
masters melodious mellow maritime music,
midsummer marvelous, merry,
myself-moonstruck mania minded,
my mission- meeting mesmerizing,
mysterious, mischievous,
magnificent merman!
Written B: D. Collins 9/20/23
I have no mercy for dirty, grimy, or grunge.
Along with family, it applies to everyone.
I won't take kindly to being stabbed in the back.
I don't blindly launch a counterattack.
Every move is done with motive and intent.
Methodically bringing that problem to an end.
Someone moral and ethically grimy is my pet peeve.
And, for those type of people, I have no mercy.
It used to be a man killed only for his wife and kids.
But things are so bad we have to expand the list.
I would love to have that woman God wanted me to have.
And, with the griminess I've seen, you'd better watch your ass.
the demo expert desperado left the device behind
What a marvelously designed contraption; wasn’t that kind?
He’s a desperado, an outlaw, he has a despicable mind.
Disassemble that apparatus, the truth we must methodically find.
The suspicious gadget was calamitous, it burst, cracked and shined.
I am going to dismantle it, it scares me said my cousin McWhined.
His scared-y-cat attitude bewildered me; was his back even spined?
Mystified, I stood up for the device, having a lacksidasical mind.
Diminishing dwindling damaging proof rapidly left far behind.
After the contraption exploded, a deadly hit that blew up McWhined.
The desperado was truly an outlaw, on the run, whom no one can find.
Wish I had photo of contraption, which sat two feet from where I dined.
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