"Every enigmatic environment enlists enlightened emotions" Quote by The Poet
Spectacular silvery spangled, star studded sky, so serene.
Under universal utterances uniquely unabashed, unseen.
Wildest wind wails when weakened, was welcomed warm weather.
Trees towering, trying to triumphantly touch together.
Serendipitous splendor soothes soulful scenes.
Gracefully groomed, growing greens.
Lustrous light looms, lasting like lingering lanterns.
Youthful yellowing, yet yesterday yearns.
Moonbeams meander, mesmerized midst melting moments.
Extraterrestrial elements enlist exponents.
Frenzied fireflies flutter, fulfilling fanciful florescent flashes.
Sparkling, swishing splashes.
Sycamores sway sweetly, so subdued, sounds softly sweep.
Calm clarity closely causes comfort, combinations creep.
Sporadically straying, sadly sets sorrow so steep.
If you stand strongly with and for Liberty
I will fearlessly join you
If you stand firmly for Freedom
I will cheer the noble gestures of your kingdom
If you stand enthusiastically for Equality
I will ecstatically stand with you too
If you stand for good democracy
I will help you spread the seeds of Love
I will happily clap when the doves are hovering above
If you stand solidly for fair and equal justice
I will help you ring the bells of peace
I will fervently pray for you all the time
I will sporadically listen to the tintinnabulation of the chime
Brothers and sisters, I have tears of hope in my eyes today
Otherwise
My pen is able and ready amidst the fray
And it won’t be so wise
Because I love my fellow human beings, our people
Who are black, red, white, yellow and purple.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and to our brothers and sisters.
Copyright © January 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Things That Should Grow on Trees
Things that should grow on trees include:
big sea birds with
extremely long wings, old-fashioned shoe
horns, tape recorders who
play sporadically cries of
grief, blank
photographs, stamps with
printed eyeballs, people with
colourless or
very nearly colourless hair and
skin and
pinkish eyes, the word
unfortunately, the word
regrettably, the word
even though, miniature
pianos, vampire
teeth, leaf
blowers, False
IDs, illuminated loyalty
cards, the watchful and
attentive, damp
clothes, pom
poms, glass
shards, pack of
cards, rope knot
balls, plastic
trinket boxes, ashtrays (glass only), lips (too
animal lips), spines (too
animal spines), toast, headache
tablets, running
shoes, and
whores.
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
reckless and just a bit larger than life;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
So much of the Universe left to learn
cutting through time with a celestial knife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;
Locked in a galactic waltz at each turn
she’d gladly stay with all that joy so rife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
Solar winds can sporadically downturn,
among a supernova there’s no strife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;
The need for absolute freedom is stern,
led by the sweet rebellion of a fife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
Venus armed with a path of no return
amorous blues always chase the good life;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
for desire and a little fire we yearn.
Here come April showers.
Here come the last snow flurries.
The trees are jolly and rejuvenating,
Since the weather is now cool, spring
Is here. Yes, the lilies are blooming.
Here come the fledgling flowers.
The parks have extended their hours.
The children are roller skating and playing,
The track and field team is practicing,
And the dog owners are smirking and strolling.
Spring is here. The air is brand-new and fresh.
It rains sporadically. ‘Tis the time to stretch
Our imagination, to enjoy life to the fullest,
And to renew relationship. This is the best
Time to charm, chill, relax, pause, and rest.
Copyright © April 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
My Body Explained in Metaphor
My Life is an ever-changing hill.
I stagger up foot over foot
And hand over hand
If I’m lucky occasionally I trot down
My eyes are two cameras
They focus on what I need.
Sporadically, they find things to scare
My eyes don’t filter, don’t care.
My legs are two stilts
Most of the time I balance well
Navigate the road, and pitfalls
I’ve very rarely fell.
My ears are radars
They scan all around
Searching for interesting rumours
Alerting to dangerous sounds
My hands are tendrils of contact.
They hold loved ones near
And push away all my enemies.
Always arm’s length from fear.
My heart is a fuel pump.
Feeding my engine of life
It bleeds quite easily.
I share it only with my wife.
My body is a metaphor
Perhaps yours different to mine?
My brain is the enemy
Never speaks when all is fine.
David Cox 02/01/24
She finds herself
in a room much too small for her mind.
Cigarettes of hope and despair
burn all night.
She eats sporadically,
rehearses her soul-talk regularly.
Her history was once linear,
a straight line
now it is but a mad moment
circling a non-stop mind carousel.
There were men,
many
none now wash their face in her hands.
Alone in her self-separation,
she pens in a time-stained journal
notes upon a former life
that always threatens to
divorce her from herself.
She remains a sister, a mother,
a friend to the always desperate,
but her mind wanders
carrying within it a dazed surmise
together with
many stone-cold for-get-me-nots.
The rain drops sporadically
hitting every pain of glass
till all is wet to touch
the rain pours down deeply now
splattering up on the grass
till it's too much
the rain runs a steady stream along the driveway crease washing away the leaves of winter's past
filling the drain
“Doing what you love is freedom. Loving what you do is happiness.”
Lana Del Rey
Happiness with peace for the masses comes sporadically,
And at times it feels like periods of great prosperity or
Long-lasting peace has come not often throughout history.
Changes in politics or times of trouble or war
Yank away the good times causing for many stress or tragedy.
Oh, how I long for the ‘80’s. Down came a mighty wall!
No recent decade can match it, and I was having a ball!
The measure of immensity
is a small step,
just a footfall
snagged by a tufted hole
in the space-time fabric.
The way you fall is the way
you get out of your bed
when the day is already too bright.
All things fall upwards
from the empty seed.
The vastness of insignificance
needs a Dollar Store magnifying glass,
anything more expensive
would only distort perception yet more.
Ant hills climb up themselves’
perception is a rope trick.
There is no such thing
as a summer or winter moon
yet we all know there is.
The infinitesimal cannot be reckoned,
but we feel it crawling,
sense its self-propelled intelligence
re-wiring our brains.
A bloody nose drips on a moon rock
a rock someone had forgotten
to bring back.
Space, like memory,
is full of potholes.
Beyond the mushroom cap,
mind-spores sporadically fail
to make clear connections -
the immensity of what we then miss
returns to space dust
dust we leave boot-prints upon
as we once again
trip over ourselves.
I’d like to thank all who
have supported my creativity
Your comments I love and
encourage my ability
There are those who have
followed me from day one
And those who sporadically stop by,
I hope that I stun
You all inspire me to become
even better then I was
It means so very much to me,
I’m at a loss for words because
Your light shines upon me
wrapping me in your warmth
Inspiring words, it’s you who
make them transform
You make my words dance
across each new page
Your comments breathe life
into them giving them a stage
Without you all my words would
sit lifeless and unread
Instead my floating emotions
ride upon silver thread
So thank you guys, your
support means so very much
As my written words will always
await your gentle touch
I think one day
I will eventually retire
And take up new residence
In the countryside somewhere
Hopefully without a care
In order to surround myself
With it's intrinsic aesthetic pretty
To awaken me afresh cometh each
Freshly new dawning of day
And return only to visit the city
And it's quickening pace
And droves of pale despondent soulless faces
And darker seedier side
Once sporadically in a while
From time to time
In order to get the balance right
And what is the difference
Between what is in fact pretty
And on the other hand
That which is pretty grim
On our way through life
We frequently face silence and mayhem
No one can predict our future luck.
We have both death and newborns
We can have achievements and failures
We'll draw stuck in a swamp sporadically
Be willing to strain intriguing recent things
Our time on Earth is quite limited
We beget a lot of riddles and insights
No matter if we confederate or not
We will all endure comparable adversity.
We'll all bear it through to the other side
In the finale, we will all be hailed in one place.
flashes of atavistic plurality
saves us timelessly
and sporadically
from what we are
programmed to be
by the system... !
Children already grown
Kisses already forgotten
Plants already flowered
Flowers already burgeoned
Forests depleted
Streams degenerated
Hear the desperate cries
Feelings already aged
Hearts already bruised
Souls already alienated
And lovers already gone
We have nothing left
The singing birds
The meowing cats
Always on our shoulders
And the naughty dogs
Barking sporadically
How presumptuous! How impertinent
The past won't come back
And time leaves us memories
Hidden and huddled under black ice
We talk about tomorrow, about the future
Ah! Good. That's all we can utter
Immediately
We can flee to the hills of Zaire
Like the elephants.
P.S. Translation of ‘Et Des Amours Déjà Partis’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
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