Multitudinous micro-
oscillations manifest
misleadingly,
Quarks quintessentially
quantify questionable
quantum- permanence,
Subatomic structures subtly
simulate substantial
superficies
Macroscopic mutability,
Fleeting fluctuations
fabricated from formless
frequency- fields,
Intricate interfaces interlock
intersecting illusory imagery,
Disintegrating dimensions
deceive dedicated density-
seekers,
Evanescent energies
effortlessly evade external
examination,
Architectural absolutes
automatically atomize along
apertures,
Vaporous voids vividly veil
vast vacuousness.
Fleeting matter masks
quantum voids.
I know my flaws are multitudinous
so I pray my best efforts are illuminous
so that underneath you cannot really see
the broken fragments that once made me.
The darkness that lives inside my chest,
clings to me like a safety vest.
Don’t want you to know that from my very core, I’m chasing someone who isn’t here anymore.
The time has passed and the years have flown
yet nothing seems to have grown,
since when I turned about eighteen
when everything had not yet been seen.
Each day feels heavy and set in stone,
each day I feel more alone.
If you had told me all those years ago,
that still today I have nothing to show for my torture, blood, sweat and tears
I’d simply shake my head and jeer
because there’s no way I’d have placed me here
drowning alone, drowning in fear.
The multitudinous clenches of despair joust intermittently.
Make it hurt.
No witnesses. No empathy. Nor apathy. My stagnation.
The question of purposefulness has the inconsequential ringing of tinnitus banging in my noggin.
Who to bear witness?
Beyond “you,” I suppose...
Thou nameless, faceless, formless and ing omnipresent
God? Given my luck...
Crawling and flowing in my body - more so than my own blood - though never foreign. A homogenous mixture “we” are.
Invasive “you” are not.
Permeating and crushing my existence.
Not of me but never foreign, never.
“You” to bear witness.
My brain rackles with any and all manifestations of grief. How predictable.
Where are “you?”
Inside and outside and inside out and outside out - never foreign.
Take my life then.
Be not afraid. Take my life.
Make this invitation to a new aspiration of my decimation my proclamation.
The after-thought of symbolization, of matter, of merit-
Take my life
I am tired - tired - tired of this rigamaroo
Take my life. Take my breath.
“YOU!”
GIVE. IT. MEANING.
Once went to a green, dark forest
This place may be restless
Walk here, walk there, and had a rest
But still in wilderness
It’s frustrating things are not in place
Whether big or small price
Just like a flower vase
Which surrounds with butterflies
It’s sorrowful life had past
We all will walk this path
We all lived here present and past
But Heaven is last path
Some contests may defeat
That’s what people dislike
They’ll be sad but will eat
And continue what they like
You rang…illumination of bittersweet passion.
My facial vitality warmed by the welcoming awakening.
My eyes become as stars linked together with humanity
The balm of a new day.
At day’s end
the jigsaw of twilight, jolted by the multitudinous explosion
of magenta, violet and crimson. I squeeze my love’s hand.
An euphoric inhale of impending rest; not inert but fullness.
Coloriffic breast to lie upon. Seeping hues choose all of us
in its reveal. Do we choose to look up or close the shades?
Do we then complain, we’ve no beauty in our pain?
Be jolted by twilight, not champagne nor caffeinated seeds.
Come alive as the night tucks you in, serene. Sense
God’s presence in your storm - His riveting resonance.
Love for all seasons
For multitudinous reasons
Love all season long
Like a nouveau song
Fall, winter
Spring and summer
The beautiful sparrows are singing
And the children are happily playing.
Love for all seasons
For all imaginable reasons
The beautiful flowers come and go
Like the gorgeous afternoon rainbow
In the absence of the subtle rain
Love leaves an indelible stain
In the hearts of all lovers
And in the souls of all writers.
Love for all seasons
For multiple colors
And for countless reasons
As we admire all and every flowers.
Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous books of poetry.
It's time for a serious poem
So I can truly show 'em
That I've mastered metaphor
simile, prosaic petit fours ...
I'll pull out all the stops
rhyme and meter, extra hops
Brew up such a batch of phraseology
as befits an epic of eschatology ...
My vocabulary will absolutely astound you
as to the heights it soars and leaps-'n'-bounds you
And as for opaque literary allusions
why, there will be multitudinous profusions ...
But if all this still does not pass critical muster
~ I'll hire AI to adjust her
Multitudinous bells secern the tones
as may resound sharp bamboo xylophones.
Pulchritudinous bells have rhythmic ding,
others that linger with tedious ring.
Some little bells can echo a jingle
that surely bestow a Christmas tingle.
Quite many bells ting melodious chime
prompting our schedule's punctilious time.
A carillons' unique, harmonized bells
swing from gentleness to overtone swells.
Suspended bronze discs reach resonant gongs,
characterized by gregarious songs.
A bittersweet bell that distantly tolls
announces angelic release of souls.
If I had wings I'd outdo unfortunate Icarus
and soar up to the highest stratosphere.
Buoyant, I'd defy gravity and glide
over the loftiest snow tipped mountains,
or slide headfirst towards some deep vale
where iridescent meadows stretch into verdant pastures
where myriads of healthy cattle graze, placidly, alone.
If I had wings I'd play with high white clouds,
or scatter misty fluffy cumulus from over the fields
or cause precipitation to make our produce grow
in our windswept lush and fertile heartland.
Should I forget the poorer drought struck lands?
You know that I would not, not me.
If I had wings I would delight in competing
with all the various winds, and fly quiescent
savoring the multitudinous scents that emanate
from all the lovely flowers and all the well kept lakes.
But alas I have no wings and as I look up
and see the birds flying free, I feel it would have been
a better deal, if God had given me a pair of wings.
My muse is like a carnival,
a celebration of kaleidoscope colors,
a dazzling display of light and sound.
Circling slowly until I feel dizzy.
Will I crumple and fall?
A house of mirrors
with peculiar shapes and sizes
evoking flustered feelings
and contorting my cognitive map.
Which avenue shall I follow?
A tunnel of love where my mind
lingers on the ways emotion
plays with my heart, at first
soothing, then exasperating.
Liberating or beleaguering?
A house of horrors where
I live out my darkest thoughts
and flex my remarkable resilience
to the beckoning of the dark side.
Can I be truly free?
The roller coaster is exhilarating
and sets my mind free again
the ups and downs of life and living
and the fear of death
Is that so wrong?
Titillating tilt-a-whirl,
multitudinous perspectives
twirling one side then another
seeing with curious fly eyes.
Am I, or my muse, to blame?
There's a unique planet in space!
It's a veritable paradise!
Yet its residents degrade their base,
Carving out their own demise!
We have probed the visible skies
And seen stars and beautiful displays.
This has brought us to realise
That there's a unique planet in space!
In the solar system is where it lays.
Its distance from its sun is precise
For aiding life in multitudinous ways!
It's a veritable paradise!
You can make every kind of devise
From elements found in this place.
A better life man could realise
Yet they're degrading their base!
There's no seeking a water trace,
Which to space missions would be a prize.
Men beset the place with a malaise,
Carving out their own demise!
This home of vapor, water and ice,
That creates food from the sun's rays
Has residents who are fond of vice!
Peering deep into space portrays
That there's a unique planet!
'A Rondeau Redouble Poem' Contest
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Date of poem: June 14, 2022 the
Depart from your accustomed
typically usual routine.
Specialize in being a generalist.
Immerse yourself fully in the whole entirety
of the complete volume.
You’ll be surrounded on all sides
by a myriad and multitudinous plethora
of permanent and long-lasting linguistic verbiage.
Feel like a pedagogical school teacher.
Have an impactful influence on events.
Fly above the earth.
It’s deceptively mendacious,
and fine as French champagne!
Here’s a sneak peek advance preview of
Colonel J. D. Waxwood's Harmonious Concordance
of Repetitive Redundancies, Sufficient Enough Tautologies,
and Irrational Non-sequitors, from BadSeedPress:
AKBAR THE GREAT
AMERICAN INDIAN
ATM MACHINE
CENTRAL CORE
CHICKEN COQ AU VIN
CONCISE SYNOPSIS
CORRUPT POLITICIAN
FLESH COLORED
FREE GRATIS
FRESH FROZEN
GUEST HOST
HAWAIIAN LUAU
MORE PERFECT
ORIGINAL COPY
PIN NUMBER
PIZZA PIE
PRE-REGISTRATION
SELF-CENTERED NARCICIST
SILENT MUSICAL
TINY LITTLE [ANYTHING]
TUNA FISH
WISE-ASS SOPHOMORE
Ocean of life
nurturing many
Multitudinous treasures
hidden within
Myself a wave
floating atop
Miniscule
Ephemeral
How I enlarge myself in mind
As against flowing with winds
How much do I matter?
Why am I worrying so much?
How much is in my hands?
Surely not as much as I assume
Why not flow along wind
Enjoy the ride to shore and back
Was born in Ocean
Will merge in it.
22.09.2021
For
Constance La France
''O'' Contest, NEW POEMS
Sparrows chirp, parrots squawk
Koel sings koo-Ooo, squirrel squeaks
Leaves rustle, wind howls...
Melodious music fills me with exhilaration
Sun paints picturesque scene
Moon and stars glow
Sky a dynamic canvas
Multihued colourful flowers
Dance on multitudinous multihued green leaves
Colourful butterflies and dew drops ...
I watch mesmerized
Greens are soothing and relaxing
Colours sprinkled on them bring joy
Tempting fruits, variety of birds
Loving caress of breeze
I feel God everywhere
Blissful vibrations fill me
Sitting on green soft grass
Watching insects crawling
Being close to nature
Feeling one with it
I loose my identity
Mind is tranquil
Nature, you are my greatest weakness
When in midst of you I forget
I am an housewife and mother
I have duties to perform
I wish to stay in forest
Just you and me
Mud and grass
Flowers and insects
Birds and butterflies
Endless greens
21.09.2021
For
Anthony Biaanco, YOUR KRYPTONITE
standing under umbrella of green surrounds
inhaling deeply myriad perfumes of leaves around
listening to multitudinous pleasant sounds that abound
observing different life forms that astound
exhilarating bliss I found
01.09.2021
For:
Line Gauthier
Bite Size Poem no19
Sub Categories
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