Why the menopausal tent?
The tiredness make you want to run away to the hills with a tent
The hot flushes make you want to run away without the tent
The cold flushes make you want to run away with 3 sleeping bags and the tent
The weight gain make you want to run away to the hills wearing the tent
The anxiety makes you want to run away to the hills hiding in the tent
The paranoia makes you want to stay in the tent
The depression makes you want to stay in the tent forever
The social anxiety makes you want to stay in the tent in the living room
The hills are too far away!
Sufficient
Is His grace for me
Loving me
He died, rose
But His Father suffered too
As He gave me grace
Enough grace,
Mercy to save me
His love flows
Powers me
His strength lifts me up higher
Comforts each second
Weaknesses
Infirmities leave
Strength, power
Pitch a tent
Over me forever~yes!
I'll gladly glory
Unfinished
early spring awakens latent yearnings
stirring the urge to commune with nature
for being one with the universal energy
in sync with the planet's rhythmic pulse
a ritual to welcome the resurrecting sun
and the oncoming of the sunshine season
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
"Let's go see the circus", he said with glee.
So we went, we kids, my mother, and he.
I didn't want to go. It was late at night,
But agreed to go not wanting a fight.
Though it was late, the tent was still standing.
"Look! See the circus", he was demanding.
There was naught to see and we kept silent.
Regretting this trip, we stayed compliant.
Suddenly there was fast movement and noise,
Then out ran a bunch of roustabout boys.
Quickly the last Ringling Big Top was gone.
All of us were tired and starting to yawn.
So I missed the last circus that came to town.
I only saw the Big Top being torn down.
When this body, a shoddy tent,
Is folded and tucked away,
Of no more use, it’s value spent,
Only memories left as communique.
What remarkable gifts did it leave?
Did it accomplish any good?
Will it be known just for its ease,
Or did it do everything it could?
Was it an intense and shining light,
That helped others upon the Path,
Showing passage in the night,
To escape the world’s evil wrath?
Will it be known for moral integrity,
Compassion and solace to those in need?
How many in the sea of community
Will know any of its worthy deeds?
Did it stand against the storms,
Braving opposition that souls be served?
When flooded by nefarious norms,
Did it miraculously stronger emerge?
Huts of havoc built…tranquility constructed…
Then, destroyed…
Tents of tension rebuilt…calmness abducted
Then, I’m unemployed…
Let’s dwell in God’s tabernacles, my beauty dear
Have no sudden fear
Have so much cheer
Let’s spell out Christ on our tablets of hopes that appear
Let’s praise God today!
I pray you’ll save me
I’ll be more than okay
Please set me free
Everyone has a special talent
Everyone has some special skills
Nothing is eternal under the tent
Everyone is entitled to some special deals
Who are we to prejudge or judge?
Who are we to refuse to budge?
Once in a while, comes a little surprise
Most of the time, it is no good to surmise
No one is the same, no one is perfect
We all have to do our best, to be correct
There is only one first time
No one has the same shade of paint
Lemon is yellow, and different is lime
Everyone has a different talent.
Copyright © October 2016, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
nation's tent cities....dreams sleep frozen in all
impoverished seasons
We Had A Blue Tent, .... Kitchen,
At Prince, .... Gallitzin;
With A Fancy Picnic Table, .. Inside;
An, The Place Before, .... With The Ocean Lake Seashore;
Was The Laurel Hill's ... Campsite!
Twenty acres with only a barn
This is no yarn
This barn I decided to rent
Inside of it I put my tent
Heaven sent
Shelter from the cold
Rest my soul as I grow old
A stall for a moo
A place for a chicken or two
My choice how
Have a bird for dinner now
or an egg breakfast for many days to come
Now a little better off than some
Am I still a bum
I have all I need
Just my soul to feed
Plant some seed
Life changes so fast
Just twenty four hours and today has past
Simple pleasures make life real
How a smile makes one feel
So many words racing in my head
The night I no longer have to dread
Won't wake up dead
So much to do
Sealing the holes with clue
No more grieving
Cause people telling me I have to be leaving
This little barn becomes my home
No longer forced to roam
Now I pay rent
And still live in my tent
Have seen tent cities stretching out so far
The forgotten ones sleeping their car
Going without simple things
The happiness that running water brings
Eating yourself full pushing yourself from a table
To some a full belly is but a fable
Rain falling turning to snow
No matter how cold the blow.
You find them there,
Ain't fair
Does any one even care
The forgotten ones
Our own daughters and sons
Feeling
Reeling
Struggling just to get by
Sometimes you can hear them cry
Hope is a memory long since faded
Even jaded
Hand outs some times comes long as a picture of them they can take
Makes their help fake
Time to awake
The forgotten ones
They shiver from more than the cold.
Their rights have been sold
Someone's mother , father ,sister or brother sleeping in the rain.
We must erase this stain
They feel no one care
To have hope, they don't dare
Again, ain't fair
It is growing
And it is showing
A park in downtown
Where the children play
A park for many events
Canada's Day celebrations
Christmas lights festivals
All through the park
A statue of Queen Elizabeth
Stands tall in this park
Many people come here
For lighting of the tree
Sing Christmas carols
A pond where the swans
The geese and other birds
Come to swim and cool off
Yet not at this time
It is tent city
These people camped here
They throw the garbage
Into the big pond
No swimming for swans
These people litter the park
The swans and geese
have nowhere to swim
These people are staying there
Until the month of November
They have nowhere to go
Behold a Nigerian single parent
By clearly doubled duties bent,
Shaking her right now, inescapable rent;
Just grabbing what this had all along meant.
Lo! The Nigerian Loner Parent
More minutes to nasal congestion lent
And by same on silly errands sent
For an apartment she must alter its scent.
See! The Nigerian Single Parent
Lately her bond severed with A Kent,
For refusing to disclose where he went;
Newly hoping on a run-into Clement
And planning to “The Thing” Cement!
Just feel A-Now-Hopeful Single Parent,
Never her conduct judging a dent;
Trusting that she’s met a worthier Gent,
Whose worst would be life in a tent.
i always imagine myself
sitting on a cloud
feet dangling from
behind heavens fence
with my headphones on
huity take the man out of it
Tent pegs, burnt legs
Sun cream, ice cream
Swimming trunks, squashed lunch
Peeling tum, after sun.
Dusty feet, collapsing seat
Folding table, electric cable,
Sleeping pods, fishing rods
Guide ropes foreign notes.
Ground sheet, birds tweet.
Wind break, tent shake
Top box midnight fox
Sweeping floor, rubbish torn
Barbecue, dodgy loo,
Gritty toes, runny nose
Flip flops dirty tops
Backpack rucksack
Gas ring, bee sting
Bug spray, all day
Camping Gaz, not last
Airbed enough said
Glowstick picnic
Washing up, worst luck
Beard grown, photos shown
Journey home, money blown
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