(19th century Tibetan Wangden rug)
Primal Properties
I look around at all the art I have collected
An assortment of inherited, home made and bought,
Ranging from African to Asian to Persian
With a smattering of European and American
In paintings and ceramics, carvings and weavings,
And the quality of primitive earthy energy
Is what strikes me most.
There is a refinement of technique in many
But it’s the primal essence
This technique is serviced to express,
The marriage of natural materials
And natural sensibilities
Through the transpersonal lens
Of a supernatural force
That defines it,
The definition being one of feeling/perception
More than verbalized thinking.
What is this irrepressible force
Our bodyminds create with these primal properties?
Life.
(11/18/24)
Henry was harried and haggard.
down, depressed, despondent and desperate
seeking solitude, serenity and silence
he found a haven in the wilds of west woods
the trees nurtured him back to harmony and health
wood nymphs healed his heart, heartily heartening him
he decided to build a life here
among the evergreens, elms, maples and oaks
trees understood him better than any human ever had
his epiphany garnered enthusiasm and energy
the most humane place in the world, he felt
we who knew him before were amazed by his transformation
many followed his lead, moving to the west woods
Lots of people were once scattered throughout those farmlands.
But now nearly all those farm hands and sharecroppers are gone.
But in my heart and mind, there's still a live picture of those
communities that once housed treasured and hard-working people.
Once filled with thriving though very poor families, those shot-gun
houses and shanty town shelters are also gone. They now form
a distant but unforgettable memory of my childhood.
Notwithstanding, there remain treasured pieces of property
that warm my heart each time I see them. It's those white-painted
buildings, a few of which are barely standing, refusing to fall.
It's as if they are shouting to me, "I'm Still Here!" I tell you.
But for the sight of those 'Pearls of Great Price', those 'Treasures
hidden in a field', the present rural scene would be unbearable for me.
From the dark shadows of yesterday's changes, challenging changes
whose time had come, those Houses of Worship have survived and
stand tall as beacons of light still shining the light of God.
You don’t miss me
And me neither Missy
Life is full of shocks and surprises
To the foodies, everything is about business
These atypical days: power, money, jewelries
Fad, vanity, cars, valuables and properties.
Mwe, on the other hand, I am about
Love, respect, decency and a lot
Of interesting intangible stuff
You don’t think that ‘enough is enough’
Life is full of surprises and shocks
As the sea is, without a doubt, full of sharks.
Nothing under the sky is eternal
Everything under this huge tunnel
Will one day turns to fine dust
Nothing tangible is a dire must
For my ego. I care solely about humans
Knowledge, books, papers, pencils and pens.
Copyright © June 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Love
has the property
of not dying...
Naturally
he doesn't die...
But love migrates...
migrates to others
hearts that accept it...
love naturally,
emotionally comes...
but naturally
does not depart,
love just leaves
for reasons that are
independent of it:
The mistakes,
the betrayals,
the disloyalties,
and the human
misconduct...!
Treed in
the great lake can barely be seen
from the cabin the view
the least of its prized properties
Down a steep path
a small wooden platform
sits on the edge of the pebbled shore
The sweetest spot
When the lake is calm
when the swans come in
the booming steady beat of their wings
heard before seen
builds in depth and intensity
As sound waves lap
against the wall of trees
the layers converge
in a Cygnus Symphony
Passing
the music fades
03.24.19
Intensity Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Properties Of Trees
Trees own the land they are on
Anchored by gravity and roots
Fed by soil nutrients they are in
Sand is not always friendly
Some don't think but whistle on the breeze
Or weep with willows in the field
They have no hands to speak of
But with palms and coconuts they pray for rain
Greens and browns seem to be their favorite colors
But we can't vouch for branches
That break or bough at every chance between the drops
Trees live in numbers
Trees exist
Photosynthesis sees to it
Forests make them up to touch the sky
Animals are visitors
Refugees who use their properties
Some species don't communicate
Translating into timber, becoming lumber
Trees grow farther than the forest path
Standing tall along the shaded walk
Reach out to snow and woodland creatures
Deciduous ones lose their leaves
But not their character
Grounded with no where to go
Trees grow
Emotion: A charge of electrons that reverberate the heart's reaction to emotional
love or heartbreak...
Heartbreak:A sudden unexpected let down in life or love by shocking news to the
ununderstanding of the brain...
Love:The affection or caring by someone for another human being of the
opposite sex.This raw emotion can drive people to kill or lie with the same kind of
inspiration or motivational drive of greed...
Hate:A total dislike of others or a single person or object by a derogatory or
depressing experience in life.
Greed:A jealous yearning or wanting an object or other's heart or monetarily
worth...
Jealousy:Resentment for one who may own or possess another's wanted
object...
Sadness:Sorrow or berievement for let down or the passing of a loved one from
this life into death. Missing someone due to death or illness or emotional
heartbreak due to a breakup of the heart.