If I liked to be poked and was fond of needles
I might entertain the idea of a tattoo
a tiny green dragon wearing a jaunty tam
an orange mushroom house with pink flowers
a 1959 navy blue Cadillac with red leather seats
But I do not like to be poked and I am not fond of needles
By Phan Tan Hai
Opening the book, reading word by word,
I see flowers drifting along the page—
fragrant with the scent of Right Speech,
woven into a raft to cross the river.
Through long and patient months and years,
he cultivated wisdom and compassion;
across the sky his mind shone clear,
walking onward, held by mindfulness.
He taught the Dharma with endless joy,
sending hidden blessings through each line.
One day he set the chalk aside—
and flower-rain drifted across the sky.
— For Dharma friend Tam Thuong Dinh Bach Xuan Phe
I get out my acrylic paints and begin choosing colors I like
Draw out a cartoon cat wearing a tam riding a bike
after the paint dries, I add glitter glue so it has some sass
If anyone wants me to leave my art studio, I take a quick pass.
Painting and cartooning are hobbies that keep me fresh and happy.
I love them so much, I fear my words might seem convoluted and sappy.
relaxed I am while painting pictures; it makes the hours whittle away.
I usually paint on six to sixteen canvases at a time, each and every day.
2025.2.2, CNY 5th day
There are twelve Zodiac in Chinese Fung Shiu.
Rat, Ox, Tiger, Hare, Dragon and Snake
Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog and Boar.
There were terms "Tam hop, Tu s/xung.
Meaning three for, four against.
Best matches are in the following strict order.
Rat, Dragon and Monkey.
Ox, Snake and Rooster.
Tiger, Horse and Dog.
Worse against are
Rat vs Horse, Hare vs Rooster,
Dragon vs Dog, Ox vs Goat
Tiger vs Monkey, Snake vs Boar.
These rules apply to all partnership and life long relationships.
If one does not believe it, one will face the consequences,
Especially when comes to worse matches.
All of the above was my knowledge,
Before I converted to Christian.
Chinese culture soon will be forgotten,
Resulted by mix races marriages.
Forever who’s in my thoughts, she
Alas is indifferent to me,
And for someone else longs,
Whose heart elsewhere belongs,
And that someone in turn loves me!
Fie to such devious love indeed,
Scorn to my love’s lover,
And his love, scorn to her,
To Eros, to ways of Cupid,
And oh, shame to me so stupid.
_____________________
Translation | | love
Poet’s Note: Bhartruhari was a poet king in central India in the seventh century CE, who when disillusioned in love renounced kingdom and became an ascetic. Neeti Shatakam, a compilation of hundred verses on moral values was written by him along with Shringar Shatakam on romance, and Vairagya Shatakam on dispassion and renunciation. This verse is taken from Neeti Shatakam.
Yam chintayami satatam mayi sa virakta
Sa api anyam icchanti janam sah janah anya-saktah |
Asmat krte cha pari-shushyati kachid anya
Dhik tam cha tam cha madanam cha imam cha mam cha || 1 || Metre: Vasantatilaka
When Spring rain falls and flowers bloom lambs are born,
and when I see those sweet babies I cannot be forlorn.
My friend has a farm and I go to visit a cute little lamb,
he is so sweet and curious- I have named him Tam-Tam.
When I call his name he pokes his head out of the barn.
we play and I stroke his coat already soft as spun yarn.
I love watching the "gang" leaping in the pasture green,
it is such a soothing, delightful and beautiful serene scene.
These adorable lambs will never, ever become lamb chops,
they will stay with the herd or go to other farms as swaps.
But my friend assures me that Tam-Tam will always stay,
and that makes me so happy for I can see him any day.
I can watch my Tam-Tam and his "gang" grow up strong,
then, watch them being shorn when their coats get long.
And when Tam-Tam is grown and father to a few lamb,
I will select one special cute one and call him Bam-Bam !
St Patrick’s day cat wore a tam to die for.
We saw him the second he sauntered into the door.
The pub would never be the same, he was glamor and more.
A fine dapper Irish cat, who serenaded us with folklore.
He has such fashion sense! The females all cried.
He gave us a stomping dance, a jig, and a slide.
St Patrick’s day cat with coral roses on his lapel.
Showed us the way out of our daily hell-to-hell.
We followed him to Dublin singing an Irish ditty.
The felines all followed, screaming how he was pretty.
St Patrick’s day cat ruined it that day for other Toms.
I did not see him myself, but have heard from his moms.
The funniest insect ever was wearing dreadlocks and a tam of red
He jumped up from the bowels of the forest saying “Hi! I’m Ned!”
I was shocked because he was a crazy-looking beast for a parasite.
Talking to a human like me was insane, it truly is not quite right.
He jumped on my leg and climbed up to my left knee.
Are you a they, a she, a we, a them or a he?
I was surprised that he is more politically correct than most I know.
I kept him inside all winter, away from ice, and snow.
Did not realize he could clone himself and avidly too.
One day I looked in his cage and there were twenty-two.
I don’t need a mate to do this either, he said.
That is the day I decided to boot out the insect Ned.
In Scotland the reindeer arrived at a canter
And Rudolph gave Santa some humorous banter
His outfit was red
But sat on his head
A bright ginger wig and an old Tam O’ Shanter
25 November 2022
Contest: A Funny Christmas Limerick
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
No loyalty
No royalty
No unconditional love
No clean white dove
Life is full of shocks, locks
Rocks, blocks, mocks and flocks
The flowers are faded
But the diamond is illuminated
Go crazy by deciphering what I mean
Oh! No in Heaven! It’s no fun being mean.
No money
No honey
No building
No kissing
It is what it is
Carpe secundum
Darn! Oh! Please
Tam! Tam! Tam! The drum
Exists to scream, to tease
To pester and to inflame.
Copyright © July 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
There once was a dingo doer named Jen
who’s nothin but a suckin squawkin hen.
For a tim tam she’ll do
the same nasty to you
with a stroke of her feral tongue and pen!
She’s got a thing for this special dingo
and writes me love poems in my lingo.
With all that sexual tension
she so wants my attention
but beware the rabid dingo innuendo!
~~~~
*tim tam is a chocolate biscuit.
boxful of Scotland souvenirs at a car boot sale
a life’s possessions
in thirty or so boxes
from the back of a white Transit
knick-knacks from Scotland
a wee man with ginger hair
tam o’shanter
and a corkscrew
a picture of Ben Nevis
with all the red vibrancy
sucked out of it
by years of rising suns
through flat windows
a toilet roll holder
from Edinburgh
cartoon spider and an inscription
taken straight from Robert Bruce
“if at first you don’t succeed,
try, try again”
an empty whisky bottle
shaped like a hand bell
a small bundle of colourised postcards
in brown, green and purple
of the Scottish Highlands
a tea towel with a stubborn brown stain
of the Isle of Skye
a pint glass with a colour scene
lettered Aberd—n
and a dried bunch of heather
bound by a tartan ribbon
from the banks of Loch Ness
that bunch of heather,
forty six years picked
owned from honeymoon to death
thirty or so boxes
of worthless detritus
to rummage and ransack
on a summer Sunday morning
a life lived
in one of thirty boxes.
6.6.2011
revised 6.6.2022 6:45am
Whose dog is it? Someone queried.
The rest of the neighbors laughed.
Look at his colorful tam
Look at his dreads
It is Marley’s dog
Or an impersonator, someone suggested
A girl in the crowd takes a selfie.
Her tam o’shanter sparkles
because of the fireworks going off
in the background, and because it has glitter.
At the gates of Moscow
weary French troops run away
hands over their ears, as Tchaikovsky
fires his righteous cannons.
The girl with the cell
is as pretty as her friend beside her,
but her friend outshines the tam o’shanter
as if it were just an ordinary beret.
She has sapphires in her eyebrows.
Kids in earshot of adults
‘wow’ or mouth age-appropriate obscenities.
The limp body of a teenage messiah
is elbowed and pushed around by his disciples.
Several rows back, a woman is laughing
as she cranes her neck skyward;
from the chin up, she looks like Greta Garbo,
only she is short and fat.
Rockets fly like fan-dancing ostriches.
The truncated 1812 Overture burps to a close.
My lens can’t capture the woman
or the girl, or her friend
who now all shine like diamonds.
I can’t fit all of this into 12 mega pixels.
The night eventually stops throwing missiles
at the moon,
the girls, and women fizz out,
the kids continue to sizzle
until they are led away by dark-eyed dreams.
Whirling leaves of gold and rust travel past me in an ethereal way
Enjoying the float of a gentle glide of morning autumn air.
Squirrel tails chase each other around an oak tree
Ends of toothy fat mouths that are excitedly chattering.
My soft sweater protects me from the brisk air of October.
A carload of young lads slows down to watch a pretty co-ed.
An unaware beauty clothed in a plaid skirt with a matching tam.
Homecoming is around the corner; I imagine her at a bonfire.
Flames kicking and popping, enticing romantic confessions.
Her embers turning gray and black in eager anticipation
The strength of this season oozing out of every corner
Shadows snickering, hoping for the smell of s’mores.
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