Long after its death where dipsomaniacs and dreamers
Have gormandized its spicy meat, its shell still breathes
Emitting a monotonous sound to wake-up babies, toddlers
Mothers, fathers, cousins and soldiers carrying wreathes.
The lambis exhales a sound of patience and resilience
It is a symbol (for Haiti) of hope, pride and perseverance
Haitians are born fighters. Haitians fall and get-up
To fight daily. Haitians, with a smile, will never give up.
The long monotonous squall of the almighty lambis
Can traverse the craters of the mountains and appease
The giant waves of the raging rivers. Listen to the sound
Listen to the bells of freedom, wit and liberty abound.
Copyright © December 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Interpreters lead a monotonous life
Always sitting behind close doors
Repeating what other people say
Again and again and cautiuosly
Their job isn't just about language translation
They serve as bridge, ships, high-speed trains
And shipping routes that connect the world
Do you think they are great
But I'd like to be one of them.
Monorhymes: monotonous, boring verse
Often thoughtless, constructed in reverse
Never flowing freely, quite the converse
Only ever poetic slime, coerced
Requiring at times phrasing less diverse
Harsh, all grit and grime, tortured, strangely terse
Yet perhaps not - one can find them quite perverse!
Maybe include acrostics, intersperse,
Embed monoku’d sweet rhymes when traversed?
Surprisingly, a sublime universe!
—————
for the SINGLE STANZA MONORHYME Poetry Contest
sponsored by Milt Hankins
written 10/4/22
This contains a monorhyme, an acrostic, and an embedded monorhyme that is also a monoku
Drudgery
Monday I’m groggy
Want to stay in my bed
Tuesday’s a bit better
But wish I were dead
Wednesday is hump day
I don’t care one single bit
Thursday’s pre-Friday
And I’m ready to quit
Friday drags on
I need a few beers
Saturday’s cheerful
No need to shed tears
Sunday’s much needed
Off early to bed
‘Twas a long week
There’s another ahead...
~J.D. Cromwell
Standing on the road alone
Shadow is fading into the atmosphere
And disappearing into the universe
Puddles are reflecting the sky
I found myself standing there
I didn’t realize that I was alone
The wind agitated the sky in the puddles
I disappeared into the universe
I forgot how many years passed
After I found myself in a puddle
Forgetting and being forgotten
I lost my shadow from my memory
The shadow was a shadow, not reality
Stepping into the sky in a puddle
I am trying to connect to myself
A circle of monotomy is not to be confused with a whirlpòol of jeopardy because the amount of times a jester jumps creates a tale of excitment whilst perched on an atomic towel rail in dim lights. Accustomed to isnt aclimatised it is a pattern to behold and a norm to name. Yet who in wooden clothing would dare to approach, preach or ridicule the handwriting skills of a hard working academic serpent. But not at a beetle drive. Or a monday market. That is reservations only. Only origins orate opiniöns. Ha and ha swineherd clearing aerial clouds. Ha a beastly bread roll rolling. X x x x x decapitatiön z z z z.
With each passing day
There comes a monotony.
Arriving as the same old, same old.
The oneness of time and occurrence.
The sun rises in the distance,
Its color always radiant,
But always one, with only a cloud or two
To kiss its sameness. Its hue.
The wren and finch work their tune
As in a competition, always there.
Always drowning out all others.
Flitting and jumping about nervously.
The leaves do their wind dance,
Waving "good morning."
Swaying, swerving, hanging.
Always. But always.
What routine they have, all nature
Shines, flies, sings and rings
Out to me. To all
Yet never grows old,
Nor ceases to amaze.
We thank you old sol.
We hear you bright fowl.
We see you turning leaves.
A symphony performing for us.
Each day. What amazement.
What sheer delight.
We thank you, ... all.
A monotonous cacophony
Of droning moans,
Makes my ears cry for,
Melodious tones,
This torture continues without abate,
Till there’s no more that I can possibly take.
Music should be something,
About which I care,
Not a growl that makes me pull out my hair.
But if this insipid groan,
Must continually assault my ear,
I pray my hearing will soon disappear.
Verse
There is a shattered singular second of life stabbing the solar plexus inside me.
Holding on to the past is adding more fuel to the raging inferno.
Deep inside the anguish cries go unanswered.
Failure seems to be stamped all over my face.
I am seeking solitude so silent that you can hear a pin drop.
I am trying to quiet the negative conscious thoughts streaming through my mind.
So I can move on to bigger and better plateaus.
I know that every time I hesitate, I will only add more grief to my existence.
Finding the silver lining in all of this is easier said than done.
Fiery passion fixating on a new futuristic endeavor is my desire.
To this end I will break out of the monotonous moment.
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