Showing off your city
Guarantees a sense of pride
Will come bubbling to the surface
From where it is tucked inside.
For by sharing all the reasons
You have picked this place to stay,
You will reinforce, to you and others,
Why you feel that way.
We all have different needs
We hope our homes will help fulfill
And by showing off the highlights,
We know it’s all working, still.
Empyrean drops,
Monument of July,
The pluvial chapter of life...
O July of enfeebled yolk,
Dispenser of splendour of sempervirence,
God has watered your tongue.
Therefore, pour, July, pour
The essence of life,
The grit of living
Unto the bosom of the
Seventh month and other
Months of parturition.
Let us conceive in July,
To bear in good season,
Sons of courage...
Wearing festal garments
And adorning our heads with sepia cloths,
This shall reinforce hope.
In front of the monument of July,
(A slouching image of sleepy rain)
Right on its wet feet,
Shall we bless the earth abundantly.
O July,
Bearer of thirty-one offspring,
Male and female, dew and fog,
So full of grains of years,
Frenzied and dancing your rites
Together with the age of insistent youth!
Middle age is when neither youth nor old age
Finds you worthy...
They sing:
The perception of the pristine green
Aroma of July
Is often the first of the rites
Of the seventh month.
Beliefs
Attachments to thoughts
Reinforce a separate identity &
Things are taken personally..
Which is a story of
An appearance of the
Impersonal...
HOW THE ECHO FILTERS REALITY
An echo is always intended as a sort of reply
An answer, if you will, to reinforce meaning
Yet each, in its own way, takes the initiative
And maybe accused of being unappreciative
As towards a new reality it could be leaning
But over time, it must slowly but surely die
Multiple repeated attempts one may detect
Each echo reflected by various hard surfaces
Rebounding back, almost attempting rhyme
Adding a subtle new dimension every time
A reinforcement for all intent and purposes
The original sound surprised by such effect
An echo may try to assume a new identity
Yet is ever constrained to reflect its origins
Nevertheless, it retains that single modality
However much might be lost of the reality
As each repeated echo once again, begins
But as it finally dies, one may just feel pity
Echoes, thoughts thrown off-course
illusive as in "vision blurring"...
ennui, with nothing to reinforce
imagery. Silence disturbed by purring,
odd admixture of buzzing and whirring.
What would we do without good friends?
You know, the one we can depend.
The one that always lends an ear.
Our friend who listen's, that is sincere.
You know the friend that's always there.
The heart of gold that always cares.
A friend that could be miles apart.
They hold a place true in your heart.
A friend whose there through thick and thin.
The one whose love comes from within.
The one that knows when chips are down.
They can make you laugh by being the clown.
The one that just picks up that phone.
Which make you feel you're not alone.
When that phone rings, it makes your day.
It brings you close, not far away.
That friend that makes you feel at ease.
Whilst creating lasting memories.
The one that does too much to mention.
And always comes with good intentions.
You know friendship is a powerful force.
This is something I must reinforce.
So here's to friends that help succeed.
Because a friend in need is a friend indeed!
we are not this body-mind
yet ephemeral impressions arise
refrains replayed reinforce ego urges
soul witnesses this trance dance in surprise
That other world
is out there, beyond the quiet
I keep bubbled around me,
the noise growing louder along
the flag strewn streets,
banging drums marshaling
the inflamed minds of the masses.
Something has gone wrong.
I no longer feel I belong.
I keep my door closed
and curtains drawn to shut out
the anger from a passing mob,
reinforce the boundaries of my home
with walls of books. They have
marched through and littered
all the lovely places
where I once walked, covered
beauty with garish signs.
Something has gone wrong.
I no longer feel I belong.
Out there, all seems to be
of no worth unless shackled
to a cause. Tribal camps yell
obscenities across the lines
of division and commandeer
their gods to mouth
a sanctioned hate.
Something has gone wrong.
I no longer feel I belong.
And what can I do
but play with a frail voice
and think of what could be
and on dark days,
take hope and defiance
in the gentle arms
of Emily Dickinson's poetry.
make a plan with zest and zeal
reinforce it with imagination
just before it becomes an obsession
release all desire bubbles in space
having paused the cause of movement
double check for possible after burn
just in case the writhing snake
raises its venomous head
I try and try to do my best,
Focus on my faults,
To change the way I walk this quest,
The way I do this waltz,
I watch my step, try to perfect,
I slip, I trip, I fall,
Stand back up, stay erect,
I flip, no grip, I stall,
Every moment a new obstacle,
Have to learn the steps,
Practice, be methodical,
Working on the reps,
Eventually I can change my habits,
Keep my flaws in view,
Polish, cut, and shine my facets,
Pressure bleeding through,
I have to leave this chrysalis,
Emerge a brand new man,
Destroy my inner incubus,
Transform my entire plan,
I can stand above my past,
Leave it all behind,
Molten metal, new future cast,
Time does not rewind.
Embrace the strife,
Reinforce the life,
Remove the knife,
Love my wife.
Be a better man.
We’re manufactured girls,
designed to be beautiful and pointless.
Everything we tell you has to be true,
we feel we can open up to you.
We’re decorated and prepared for sacrifice.
We can touch your tender isolation
and reinforce your inadequate truths.
We can mirror your internal struggles
and help you shape your damnation.
You’ve caressed our powerless distress
a thousand times, with sleep's dark hands.
Don’t feel your destroying something beautiful
You know, when privately accessible
in the darkness of your man cave
our soft, immediate shapes
excuse extraordinary behavior.
That’s all we want.
.
.
A song for this:
Genesis. by RAYE
.
'tiz true
i'll visit the b&b
with the softest
bath towels
i love them warm
i'll take the
hot
mine great anticipation
the taut wrap
'round mine
mine
turban
the chambermaid's
reinforce
*booned
1. : something asked or granted as a favor.
2. : something pleasant or helpful that comes
at just the right time : blessing ["boon'd".]
Beneath the moonlight, by the water's edge.
I harken to the songs splashing frogs sing
and of the whippoorwill, an echoed pledge:
"Be still. Listen. My hand will soon be seen."
Hearts lost in their flesh are merely being.
Gentle souls at war with intuition;
eye every feeling before agreeing.
Mindful lessons found within affliction.
Faithfully rejoice! Reinforce belief!
When you're walking with God follow his voice!
No greater gift than the gift of relief!
Salvation’s at hand; one taken by choice!
Be still; know that purpose isn't prideful-
My heart is gentle. My eye is mindful-
April 6 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on 2Samuel 8-11
Key Verse – 2Samuel 8:6 … And the LORD preserved David whithersoever he went.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO PRESERVES US
Praise be to God for preserving us:
Sealing our souls with salvation-seal
Shielding our service from spoilage
Smiting our sin of selfishness
Supporting our spiritual supplication
Showering our satisfaction with sufficiency
2Samuel 9:3 Praise be to the Lord Who shows
His kindness to us by His:
Mercy to our prayers
Miracles for our plight
Molding for our personality
Mighty moves in our problems
Ministerial moments proving His presence
2Samuel 10:12 Praise be to the Saviour for
always doing what is good to:
Reveal His righteousness
Reward His reapers
Reinforce His resurrection
Revive His ransomed
Rejuvenate His rejoicing redeemed
2Samuel 11:27 Praise be to the Almighty Who
rebukes us in displeasing Him that:
Demands repentance
Damages reputation
Delays restoration
Destroys relationship
Delivers reproach. Amen!
April 6, 2024
God is love
A beautiful dove
Is flying above
Countless people are scared of love
Love is sacred
Love is not dead
Love is God
Yes, oh! Lord
Love is alive
God is alive
Wherever you are
Don’t be at war
With yourselves
God is not deaf
God is not death
God is not on the shelves
God knows everything
Keep on swinging and glorifying
His Name. God is here
God is looking at you, dear
I dare you to stare at his eyes
Because you are scared
You’re angry for the apple pies
Hate had taken over
God is Power
And your soul is dead
Love is like the sunrays
You need divine goggles or lenses
To glance at the lights. It pays
To be patient. Don’t build fortified fences
Reinforce the bridges instead
Stop being heartless and scared
Love is in the air
God is always there
And don’t despair
Love is sacred
And God is not dead.
Copyright © February 2024 Revised, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
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