In the USA, Black History month is celebrated
In February, the month with the shortest days
Meanwhile in my world, I celebrate year-round, every day
In my heart: Black History. I'm absolutely delighted
To the point of being ridiculously amazed
I'm laughing, giggling. This is taking my breath away
In reality, we need thirteen months to celebrate
Black History. Be mindful that everything started
In Africa. However, I am saying ‘thank you' anyway
There is no need to say obviously more or elaborate
Mankind must be pompously and joyfully celebrated
On a daily basis. There will be no world without Africa
We all must hear the message: Africa is the Motherland
Africa is the Mother of history. You might not want to stand
With me. Please prove me wrong. Show that you understand
The saga.
Copyright © February 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Does this outfit make me look fat? The crocodile asked the saleslady.
A bull-speaker, gusher and a compliment-er was, this lying gal, Sady.
You look marvelous, she said, I love the polka dots, stripes and plaid.
The crocodile strutted around the three-way mirror, pompously glad.
Winter’s captain, pompously struts his stuff, then
breaking tempo, alters the autumn rhythm;
slower pace is dominant, leaf dance dwindles;
nature's in rest mode.
Trees and bushes blanketed white by snowfall,
caps and gloves with heavier coats required now,
cabin fever, fidgety boredom, proves our
need of the sun's heat.
Shov’ling driveways, icicles dripping vex us,
tempers rise, thermometers plummet; hope says
spring is under climate’s control, so learn to
navigate winter.
In the USA, Black History month is celebrated
In February, the month with the shortest days
Meanwhile in my world, I celebrate year-round, every day
In my heart: Black History. I’m absolutely delighted
To the point of being ridiculously amazed
I’m laughing, giggling. This is taking my breath away
In reality, we need thirteen months to celebrate
Black History. Be mindful that everything started
In Africa. However, I am saying ‘thank you’ anyway
There is no need to say obviously more or elaborate
Mankind must be pompously and joyfully celebrated
On a daily basis. There will be no world without Africa
We all must hear the message: Africa is the motherland
Africa is the mother of history. You might not want to stand
With me. Please prove me wrong. Show that you understand
The saga.
Copyright © February 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Love lusts longingly
Hate hurts heartily
Marriage mars mercilessly
Wife whines woefully
Husband hustles habitually
Sex sells shamelessly
Politician preys persistently
Priest panders pompously
Religion ravages rationally
Cash corrupts completely
War wrecks wantonly,
Peace pacifies profusely.
~11/02/22
Contest: A Brian Strand Premiere Choice.
The two women sat near the coffin as if in a dream,
The notary shuffled pompously his files,
The women wondered what his scheme was.
The old man looked at them, his face all smiles.
The dead man was married to both all the time.
Had he been caught it would have been a crime.
He thought his success sublime.
He was a rich man and made many gains,
Half to each he left all without restrains.
Both looked at each other as if in chains:
Betrayed to extreme
Their thoughts all jumbled in unjust piles.
Alas that was his pastime.
May he go to hell, they thought, in fiery lanes.
Persnickety Phoebe parades pompously
Privately, we make fun where she can’t see
We are kind of mean
Think we are unseen
But Karma comes back indubitably
Frivolous, wanton, devil may care.
pompously, bogus, respectable airs.
an arrogant youth, endowed with beauty.
born of leisure, with no sense of duty.
In youth, I walked the world so bold.
never worried a bit, while growing old.
never noticed my life, wasting away.
only living, and loving, just for today.
As the years began fleeting, I was to blind.
to see sand, in the hourglass, trickling time.
with no purpose, no meaning, without any plan.
I was fooling myself, wasn't really a man.
Now that youth has fled, like the changing seasons.
I'm paying the price for a life without reason.
My first attempt at a Sonnet....
I have written my fair share of erotic poetry,
but I would never post it here because of my use of profanity,
and I can safely speculate that readers here would view it as ***********,
but I will tell you this, perhaps somewhat pompously,
that I could give 50 Shades of Grey a run for its money.
Precariously personable
Privately peeved
Parading pompously
Pronouncing pretty paragraphs
Possibly pretending pompousness
Poetic permanence
Powerfully
Performed
a most wretched woman
once befriended me
i quietly held my own
cautiously on my guard
one day pompously
she proclaimed
she was culling
her many
so called friends
sadly
i never got
to thank her
AP: 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Google, where were you all those years I wasted going to doctors?
Google, where were you when I had those enormous World Books on my lap?
Google, you are my go-to-expert now.
I can diagnose my illnesses, I can look up historical and hysterical events,
I can learn new words and new concepts, thanks to you, my friend.
Google, Google, Google, for world leader!
Wait, I think you already are.
Google, Google, Google, I cannot stop chanting your name.
My best friend ever until you give me information that I do not want,
When you begin to be my arch-enemy – you become a boor and a boob, Google.
What do you mean you only search the stuff, you do not write it?
Explain Search Engine please; I did not ever listen to any teacher.
I do not usually entertain any new concepts think or read.
Pompously proud to say that and to tweet it also….
Aha, so you search stuff. Thank you, Google!
You are my go-to-expert now.
Google, Google, Google. Google, Google!
Google for Chief of Staff! Google!
This is a anecdote about not taking things for granted....
Seeing how we often jump to conclusions based on wrong assumptions...
A top notched news photographer was in a mighty hurry...
He saw a plane on the taxiway, pilot in place and take off all ready...
He jumped quickly into the plane and commanded the pilot to take off and start flying....
Shortly after, he asked the pilot to make a turn to over where a forest fire was raging..
There was a moment's hesistation before the pilot queried why...
Pompously, the newsman replied he was a news reporter, that was why...
There was a another moment of silence, longer than the earlier momentary hesitation...
Then a quavering voice from the pilot, "You are not my new flight instructor?"... ..
Don't simply assume or jump to conclusions...
It can bring forth dire consequences...
Have a nice day, people!
Footnote..... sharing a message from Facebook 20Sept2016
reminds me
of my childhood days
leaves wrestle with the wind
after the dark clouds crowd in
clouds are not angry - NO!
they are exhilarated, excited
like a storm of giggling girls
there's something about the rain
it washes away the pain
the sun pompously peaks through the clouds
the rain begins with a drop here,
a drop there
you interrogate your friends,
“is it raining?”
your belief system runs on peer pressure
some rain storms are congenial,
cooling down the humid earth
the petrichor somehow refreshes my soul,
like a mint.
i close my eyes,
loving
the turned down lights and fresh air
at times
it rains for days and days,
like i’ve left this planet,
never known the light of the day.
but faith,
like rain must seep from our pores
calming our souls,
curing our ills
Burn Burn Down!
The tired torch at the harbor
For water has risen to liberty's throat
We hang by the lips, of her flooding mouth
Praying angelic nudity, will expose her shores
Burn Burn Burn!
The monetized existence, declaring our blood at birth
Resurrecting pennies on eyes of the dead
Burn Burn Burn!
The archetypal handbook, teaching how to age
Teaching how to die
Flog Flog Flog!
Lame duck quackers, who pompously peddle as puppets
Burn Burn Burn!
Books bound by disillusion
Saying you’re this, not that, don’t look at the sky
Flog Flog Flog!
The enemies of pondering, proponents of profit
Flog Flog Flog!
Those who say, you’re not you
You’re bigger than trees, wind is thin
Burn Burn Burn!
The idea empowering the love of power
While overpowering the power of love
Burn Burn Burn!
Guess i’ll be apart of the raging blaze
Rather than freeze in a docile spell
Burn everything!
Hell, even burn hell.
Alas, those cold as stone, are too rigid to dance
So we groove in their shadows
While the world is a wildfire!
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