I stepped out yesterday,
with no money for food,
no money for rent.
Only a T-shirt, jeans, and shoes,
that's enough, I told myself.
In my bag, my laptop,
my copies, my pen.
I am writing two things now,
one book, Always Go Up,
and one novel about my life.
I have nothing in my hands,
but I have a dream in England,
to become a PhD doctor.
I don't know how I will pay,
I don't know how I will eat,
but I know I will make my dream come true.
Soggy Ramen
By: Fawn P.
August 28th, 2026
One day…
You’ll be stuck in a loop,
Infernal, constant, unable to change,
If you're lucky it'll last a second,
If not a year,
You'll tear open a pack,
You'll save the left over dust,
Then…
You'll wait…
At first you’ll be perfect,
Your bowl well filled,
But slowly your oasis dries,
Next…
You'll wait longer…
Worms swell bigger sliding around dirt,
Made from liquid gold,
They shimmer as you watch,
Your bowl fills full now,
Your oasis less empty,
Finally…
You’ll stall…
Watch the worms,
Watch them slither and stretch,
White, pasty,
fragile…..
Your bowl is fool,
Your oasis less bear,
You sprinkle it in glitter,
Glitter makes it shine again,
Your mind eats before your mouth,
Your hands break,
as they grip and drag the brain,
The worms are squirming,
So, slippery,
So, hard to grip,
“Stop moving!” you’ll cry,
They already have,
Have they ever moved?
Did you watch them squirm?
They lay limp,
Dead and empty,,
But still swelled thick,
With liquid gold
Your bowl feel fool,
But the liquid gold is gone….
Foul tempest wind dost beset thy slumber,
its rain doth drain and dampen to stupor.
I rithe at thy great agony's bequest,
haunted by frightening reminiscence.
'Still the torrid pleas of thy soul!', I cry.
Thunder does naught to distill the shrill screams.
Lightning drenches me in thick vulgar sweat;
heart racing, mind pacing, fervent unrest.
'Will I e'er see a brighter morn than this?';
for foul tempest has consumed most my years.
But just then, when all seemed undone, foregone;
rain culls, clouds lift, and a rainbow now dawns.
09.02.2026
('Resist the devil, and he shall flee')
('I have set my rainbow in the clouds...')
Unfortunately, the Haitian people have everything to lose
They are very fragile, humiliated, vilified, and abused
My people have been suffering for years, for centuries
On the pavement, in the streets, in the harbor and on the high seas.
Our people, our brothers and sisters!
Their wicked leaders once in power, the liars
Change all plans to the detriment of the poor
Who are quickly forgotten in the filthy cans
Their spleen, sweat and blood flow are floating in the sewers
They are despised by hens,
By guinea fowls, by roosters, and all types of demons
It was yesterday that they were applauding like dummies,
Cheering, hoping to be awarded with crumbs and pennies.
These zealous brothers are on fire, they are now deaf and crazy
at the end. Even patience has borders and boundaries
Where greedy, covetous and corrupt officials behave like evil yeasts.
Copyright © January 23, 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Life is full of struggle
We need to face,not grumble
Every move is a challenge to win
But,be true,do no sin
The best of efforts fall short and less
The lack of courage is a curse,not bless
The worst enemy of mine is the lack of courage
I feel disheartened and often outrage
The fear of courage,that I have within
I need to throw out,else need to pin
Although I work hard to reach the goal
I could reach only up to a knoll...
You fought so bravely,
That even your enemy,
Wept upon your death.
With fustigation to amelioration
We are led by The Law to The Gospel
And in turn The Gospel demands we keep The Law
No epistle of straw, there’s room in the hostel
(Because God’s style to the world is hostile)
We are led by the Spirit
To learn to endear it
Endear what? Is a sinful recitation
Learning to serve others in convocation
(God calls us and overhauls us
Whether one by one and together)
How do we inherit eternal life?
By loving our neighbor as serving kin
Who is our neighbor?
The one without (as in not having and not within)
The fustigation of Jesus Christ
Begs our amelioration of a fustigated life
And if a cruciform life is led
There must be blood, sweat and tears shed in stead
(Or instead of the evil in tow as is led here below)
Life is hard, there’s no doubt about it
Jesus’ words touted and shouted from the Cross
But serendipitously (and graciously)
When we lose, we don’t count it as loss
Are you willing to look like a hypocrite to the world without?
Are you willing to look at the hypocrite within?
(As He lived and then hung betwixt two of us)
Jesus took on this struggle without committing a sin
Sometimes it’s better
to stay in the dark
and let no light in.
Because light sees everything—
the cracks I try to hide,
the wounds beneath my skin,
the pieces of me
I keep buried deep.
In the darkness,
I don’t have to pretend
that I’m okay.
I can disappear
between the shadows
and breathe
without anyone asking why.
Maybe darkness isn’t always the enemy.
Maybe sometimes
it is the only place
where pain
doesn’t have to explain itself.
But somewhere beyond the black,
there is still a light waiting.
And I’m not sure
if I’m ready to face it.
Not yet.
For now,
let me sit here
where the darkness knows my name.
He wandered away from troubles
but he never gets tired of solving
whatever he does…
always with heart and soul.
He stayed strong through many hardships.
Whoever tries to strike him down,
he still rises without holding back.
He keeps walking--
even when the road is not easy today too.
This Week's Poetry Challenge: Exactly 50 Words
Write a poem using exactly 50 words.
Challenge Dates: July 27, 2026 - August 2, 2026.
I'm sick of saying every day it is struggle struggle struggle trying to live up to expectations of other people try and keep trying to get my hustle on and I'm still not meeting the little things like stability it's like I'm always meant to live with poverty striding through a mist of fog like I can see my path clearly hovering over a pond of ideas hoping to get a permanent catch so I do have to backtrack over my rocky past look back and emphasize what I should have had and I've got to be driven for tomorrow because the future is catching up fast 39 now the big 40 next.......
The voice in my head, wants me to sink.
Splash water on my face, now able to think.
Holding my breath in the silence, truth speaks.
I fear the unknown, behind all the masks.
imagining a doll with hairline fractures throughout the glass.
Picturing myself, now healing from the past.
Recalling moments where shame had consumed me.
Remembering the emptiness that at one point ruled me.
I cried out to the Lord, when the mind I knew I'd lost.
Rescued from insanity.
by the Son of Man
Jesus Christ, who bore the cross.
Praise God Amen
Desolate clown's
traveling train
tours famed cities
onto quaint towns.
He mimicks glee
for his ousted
heart's sutures
are dismissive
frowns.
Balloon twisting's
what he knows--
cause joggeling act
makes kids mope;
And sparking globe-nose
bombards
the Top's bleachers
with plumes
of blinding smoke.
His onesie sports
ink-stains for color;
And oily-face
with white base
sweating turns
cream-soupy butter;
Shoved and ridiculed
by crowds-even peers,
cause he studders.
His Mass Bay clown
soles have holes--
with grimy socks,
torn by nails and corns.
Grey's his story--
when a caboose's
the only corner
where he
can call home.
He'll tumbling fall
to gain their laughs-
cringing weeps
in silence--
from prying eyes.
The show must go on--
cause he's a star;
Like his forefathers
before him-since then past on.
i was a frog who wanted to be king
until i realized i couldn't even sing
a songbird shrilled
"you're only a croaker out of tune"
still i stood on my stump with a tortured smile
croaking my heart out all the while
i dreamed of being a stand-up crooner
a swamp-side sinatra maybe a little sooner
the crickets laughed
the herons one-legged stared
every fragile dream i swallowed
sat inside me
broken and unprepared
the wart-filled toad spat from his lily pad
"you’re stretching your skin boy
settle into the scum"
i carried an empty pond inside
where a thousand thorny dreams went to die
the audience left
the moon went home
a cold blue screen spit its light onto the scum
unthinking
no one returned my croak
i died a little every time i tried
my face looked back from the pond
mud-covered
wart-covered
ugly
my reflection looked away
all it could do was cry
today the water settled
the mud claimed the surface
when i looked down
there wasn’t even a frog
left to die
Privileged are those
born with kingly fate
No struggles,no sufferings
Born,just to rule,to rise
With power beyond the crowd
and destiny,as distinguished...
There are Mamas everywhere,
Hanging their head,
Not many snacks in the kitchen.
There are Mamas with sore hands,
From keeping them happy and fed,
As well as all else that comes with the job.
There are Mamas everywhere,
Who think they're alone,
Feeling less while they're building.
Judgement moreso from within,
Suddenly, perceiving growth,
Comes in glimpses only.
There are Mamas everywhere,
Ones just like me,
Who are beyond grateful for the luxuries.
The conveniences that others enjoy daily,
Aren't something we see,
Though we see our children.
There are Mamas everywhere,
Paving the way for the future,
Struggling now and thriving later.
We are learning with our hands,
Confident to calling though unsure,
We deserve what we dream of for our tribes.
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