Idealism
versus
reality
In hope
that Quixote
prevails
Disappointed
again
reading the trends
Materiality
draining
the grail
Peer pressure
determines
what happens
Not some
high minded
value or tome
Greediness trumps
what our virtue
holds dear
Self interest
hitting
— closer to home
(Villanova University: January, 2024)
She’d statuesque legs, and eyes that smoulder
Over came Jacques, tipped her on the shoulder
‘Excuse-moi, femme fatal’
‘J’adore’ your bearded pal
“Does she have ‘un pistolet’ or holster?”
Follow me and together we'll go
Over the mountains, to romance the snow
Ride a gondola lift to the great Matterhorn
Alsace-Lorraine to Château de Landskron
Love in the Alps on the French side of town
Lifted to heights, we won't want to come down
You'll feast on sweet crepes on Champs Elysees
Or take in an opera or the Paris Ballet
Under the snow moon I'd profess my love
Give you thousands of kisses and millions of hugs
I love you, I'll tell you again and again
Volumes of romance but I've reached the
End
in anguish
of uncomfortable nights
I miss the pillow
of your soft body...
I miss the water
from your mouth source...
of the voluptuous perfume
of your bare lap,
of burning alchemy
of your sex...
I miss you
without me... !
Aime-moi maintenant pendant que
Je peux t'aimer en retour.
Aime-moi maintenant quand, à vœux
Je peux allumer et éteindre le feu.
Aime-moi maintenant pendant que, encore
Je peux facilement expirer, inspirer et respirer.
Aime-moi maintenant pendant que
Je peux mirer clairement ta beauté.
N'attends pas demain ou un autre jour,
Quand je ne peux plus voir l'arc-en-ciel transitoire,
Quand je ne peux plus marcher seul sur le trottoir,
Et quand je ne peux pas sentir la fraîcheur du matin.
N’aime-moi pas seulement le jour de la Saint-Valentin,
Mais aussi quand je m'égare par erreur comme un pantin.
Aime-moi maintenant ou jamais,
Ainsi je peux rester béni et chançard pour toujours.
Peu importe l’état de mon esprit ou de mon humour,
N'arrête pas d'être docile et mignarde
A mon âme, à mon cœur,
Et à mon corps, avant que je démarre.
Copyright © Février 2022, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
C’est derrière moi
j’aurais pu
être plus gentille
possiblement
j’aurais pu
réagir avec plus de délicatesse
j’aurais pu
possiblement
fléchir à tes caprices
être plus sympathique
j’aurais pu
j’aurais dû
peut-être
mais quelle espèce d’ami as-tu été
quand tu t’amusais à tordre tout
tu interprétais tout croche
mes mots mes regards mes opinions
aucune chance de m’expliquer
bien au contraire si froid
tout noir ou blanc sans compromis
le dialogue inexistant
la porte fermée à toute discussion
juge et jury
grossier et vulgaire
tout simplement
sec et superficiel
rigide et arrogant
rien de moins qu’un abruti
vraiment
j’ai de moins en moins de temps
pour les gens artificiels
Translated from my poem BURNT BRIDGES
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Ivanka needed a Pardon
She plucked the Treasury garden
Her "Consultant" fees
Were merely a tease
Damn Democrats put a guard on!
Moi Royale
If I call you thousand times daily doesn't mean I have enough airtime to waste, its just that I love hearing your sweet voice,
If I visit you countless times doesn't mean I have nothing doing at home , its just that I love looking into your pretty little eyes,
Any time I argue with you doesn't mean I have difficulty in understanding, its just that you look more beautiful when angry,
Those times I stole kisses from you doesn't mean I was shy to ask, its just that kisses stolen from you tastes better,
You are worth thinking of,you are worth loving. That's why you always run through my mind,the thought of you brings joy to my heart,
A minute spent with you is like decades. Too much of everything is bad but too much of your love is the best thing that ever happened to me,
I might not be the most handsome guy on earth but believe me I am the one for you till death do us part,
I don't have much, but since you are my Princess am ever ready to sign in your name all my wills and assets.
Poet: Isaac Asante
Tittle: Moi Royale (My Royal)
Date: 7/2/19
https://www.poetrysoup.com/me/isaacasantepoems
@Fb: Trapking Tales
Let the fun start
So now I am no longer concentrated on myself
I can concentrate on you
Where do you like to begin?
For starter lose that shirt
Lose that toupee
Oh you are not wearing a toupee
Lose that hair of yours
While you are at it
Why not go bald?
Bald is sexy
I am talking about my bottom
Bald is not sexy
So don't lose it
Lose whatever that I want you to lose
Excusez moi
-- Just a bit of silliness --
"Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee..."
---- Daumier
39 & 1/2 days had passed;
the rain had lessened.
Noah, grungy and grumpy,
paced the wet deck
like a caged Lion of Judah.
Reading the Odyssey by blubber-light,
Jonah, a free-thinker, cruised
in his whale below; he marveled,
captainishly, carefully pronouncing
the unfamiliar Greek, an uninvented
tongue he couldn't speak.
Ham, an adherent to all the dietary
restrictions, was relieved
at the journey's almost-close.
Consultation of the Holy Books
had proved he wasn't kosher
and, therefore, could not be served.
Still, Shem and Japhet eyed him oddly.
They had a lean and hungry look.
The wives, sensible lot,
cleaned the kennels, did the chores
and tried to keep an even keel
in the anachronistic mess.
They drifted onward,
tired of fishing fruitless waters,
doubtful now of being made
fishers of men.
All things considered, it was
a perfectly normal situation:
men were mystics
and women staid and sturdy workers.
And yet, Ararat, still beneath the waters,
may not have been the only futuristic
structure in this grey, flat
seascape.
Me the infant, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s L’Enfant moi by T. Wignesan
The infant a stranger to me who grew up poet
You whom he missed even in his sleep
He who had to disinter himself upon waking
Every day in his quest with increasing effort
He who had not known your breast nor lap
Manically he sought your odour in bed clothes
Sniffed under the covers your sphinge haïr
And searched every bush for your mystic antrum
In vain forgot blackness of breasts in death
More avidly survives the memory of your milk
Longer I live more the haunting infant pleases me
When the eternel Night projects her by the threshold
At death the infant’s visited by the maternal shadow
Dissociated as two blue perfect globular moons
Note : Original rhyme schème of sonnet :
abba cddc effe gh)
( from Sophia, O.C. t. II, p. 348)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 15, 2014
Mark
Creative, artistic, musical, analytical
Brother of Michael and Susanna; son of Fred and Marlyn
Lover of Nelly (Bourieau) H., science fiction novels and films, private serenity
Who feels respect for God and humanity, love for nature, worry for the Earth’s future
Who fears mediocrity, retirement, economic collapse leading to a popular insurrection
Who would like to see successful sons, grandchildren, his songs produced/recorded
Marina, California (for the moment)
Halliday
I am the metronome
mover of measures
wide . . . . . . . . wide . . . . . . . . . . . . swings my pendulum
tracing the tempos of time
Tick-tock
my hands
a poco a presto
strum
staccato
the strings of my mind
I am the hollow
hourglass
Trickle my tunes
to the tilt of the times
The see-sawing sea
paces my sands—
murmurs ageless songs
in major
and minor
Sharp waves
crack my still mirror—
capture the startled sun
in splintered rays
I am the pulse of the wordless deep
Somehow
constant my cadence
Somehow
the play of my tides
echoes
the gravity of the moon
– Harley White
In my childhood
they
impressed on me
not to galumph,
lest I be typed
in stereo
as my eternal twin,
and yet,
somehow it pleases me
to see that you
are now
constrained to know
that I will go
galumphing off
into the nevermore.
~
I miss your beauty and splendor:
The sun that pierces through your greenest trees,
Dreams that were born within your premises;
The great books I devoured within your precincts.
Shall I ever set my foot their again?
If so, shall I find the same books I loved?
Will the friends I made within my short stay
Forever impact upon my life the same sweet way?
I miss you Moi University my alma mater,
Moi University, the place I gathered vast knowledge,
The place I discovered the meaning of great learning.
There, a piece of my soul dwells.
Few such hospitable places a mortal rarely finds,
And its breeze elsewhere you never can chance;
The beautiful geishas that roam your streets,
The bearded scholars that walk your corridors,
The spectacular scenery, the gorgeous neighborhoods;
All these and more I shall forever miss!
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