As long as I can remember,
I have felt my mind was fundamentally different.
Unreachable.
It mirrors the terrifying abstraction of deep space -
an expanse defined by infinity.
The human brain is hardwired for boundaries;
we demand a genesis and an apocalypse,
a defined start and an ultimate end.
We instinctively recoil from the truth that something can simply exist
without precedent or terminus.
That nothing preceded the cosmic void, and nothing will succeed it.
To contemplate an existence without borders
is to stare into an abyss that refuses to be known.
My mind operates in that same silent,
unreachable forever.
Long Walk
dark silhouettes of maple trees
etched against the evening sky
a whiteish haze in the distance
dulls the sharp outlines
of the Smoky Mountains
my time on the
Appalachian Trail has been
long and arduous
my soul aches
for home
my body wants a soft bed
but I have miles to go
to reach the southern terminus
at Springer Mountain, Georgia
I put one foot
in front of the other
as I trudge on
just another through
hiker finishing
a long walk
That’s another umbrella lost;
Six already this year.
I dread to think how much they’ve cost,
But I won’t shed a tear.
It isn’t entirely by accident
That I leave them on the train.
I have an ulterior motive you see.
It’s all in the name of love.
There is this lovely girl I’ve met,
Her name badge says she’s Anne.
I haven’t plucked up courage yet,
But have a cunning plan.
She’s in the lost property office
At the railway terminus.
And next time I lose an umbrella,
I’ll ask her for a date.
~~
We final went out last night,
But, sadly, not again.
I think the evening went all right –
But left her on the train.
To that shadowed city round
Come those that are sorrow bound
In their multitudes alas
Through a Terminus so vast
For a city grim enabling
Their eternal laboring
From the parapets looking down
Cold and timid souls abound
To shed their tears in torment rife
That shed they not for all their life
And from the masses on the wall
Does that gentle misery fall
It stains the heights in colors woe
And settles heavily on those below
Who join the marchers in their toil
Redemption seekers one and all
They wail and walk an endless path
Divined here by no mortal wrath
Their tribute to a city sown
By their tears and ghastly moans
For they seek in the hereafter
What risk rewards and all its laughter
For they in life with trouble severe
Found not the will to persevere
And made a choice by many before
To embrace a simple life and ignore
The treasures offered and wisdom attained
That adversity's teaching hand ordained
Sleeping, my darling. Laid out, my sweetheart. Cold.
Memories of springtime, sappy. Doormat, dormant.
Tolerance in the hush of Winter. No hurry to bud.
A vine in Winter;
Winter is slow.
Just how I like it.
Nutrients, in a nutshell; the soil spoils me with its richness.
I shake and sip through a straw; divine all the royalties,
whilst sleeping, dreaming of a verdant summertime.
Winter is slow.
Just how I like it.
Carbohydrate-filled, I don’t need much energy to laze
about in the hills, watching flakes melt upon my vines.
My time; I am expecting to thrill, when warmed to the gills.
A vine in Winter.
Just how I like it.
I don’t mind this tender time, for in due season, I’ll grow.
For now, cryoprotectants let me safely tarry. Tomorrow
is a sunny disposition, Annie; the terminus of dreamland.
Life is a journey to another place.
We know from whence we start
But not the destination.
It lies somewhere,
That terminus,
Within the scope of time and space,
Yet still may be,
For some of us,
Beyond the reach of our imagination.
falls raindrops reaching
bitter cold grips my fingers
winter takes my hand
When doves cry
There are so many tissues
It's a blinding whiteness
Whipping about
With white wet feathers
Falling asunder
And laid to rest
On the night grass below
Since doves only sob
Under the stars
To mourn proper
The terminus
Of another day.
A leader is, of course, solid not a blind follower
A leader is a true, real, genuine and patient analyzer
A leader usually leads the pack or the caucus
Follows common sense, the rules and laws of nature
Comprehends the consequences of having a failed procedure
The full process of achieving positive results at the terminus
After everything is laid, said and done, when nada is left?
A real leader has broad shoulders to withstand the storms
A brave man fears nothing, no man or woman on the left
Or on the right. A leader follows the principles, the norms
And the logic of things. Few men or women are natural leaders
Even if they were haphazardly elected or selected as such
Real leaders are occasionally as calm as hunting tigers
A genuine leader will fight for what is proper, not for the mulch
Which can be found in countless stores. A leader is strong
Bright, brave and humble. A leader admits when he is wrong
In our current unusual environment, men and women can lead
Effectively, since and hence the world has many mouths to feed.
Copyright © February 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Ferocious inimitably potent fighter,
The fictional tiger zestful might igniter;
Guard of the Antarctic primeval savage land,
Encircles by chasmal volcanoes, fire band...!
Nuwali, a bright tribe of dinosaurs era,
That changed millions of years of fauna and flora;
The big cat, comrade, and ally of the Ka-Zar,
Escapes wreck by Terminus, an alien star...!
Kiths and kins were killed by hunters of the jungle
Stives for existence and survived amid bungle;
Saves Kevin from foes and tended him as his son,
Secures him till adulthood; many wars he won...!
With his Pet Avengers, the dragons he tackles,
Each enemy before him, he calmly shackles;
Confronts El-Tigre, and Man-God; roots out monsters,
Blows out and keeps away all boasters and roasters...!
The power fight midst pet avengers and Zabu,
This leads them to horrible confrontations, new;
Suffers from infection by the zombie virus,
Archives his tasks, and becomes, for all, desirous...!!!
23 March 2023
Marvel Superheroes Supervillians and Superanimals Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Achcked At: How Many Syllables
When my short off-ramp leads me out of here yet again
I do not wish to return.
Of course I can be persuaded, but those spiritual reflection
of All That Is
will have to make me a very good deal,
they cannot force me to choose either.
only I have that power, the power of NO.
When my rickety track becomes a terminus
I do not want to return to this beautiful hellish planet.
This place I have made then remade in my own image.
It was no fault of mine
that it all got screwy and scary,
love and light took a while to find me
I was mostly playing hide and seek
with my own supposed darkness,
but I was always pure, always perfect.
I see that clearly now I see this mind-made place
differently, but
I won't come back, I just won't.
I've done many tours of duty
and have been the most slowest of learners
yet now I am done with any transfiguration
that only drops me back into my own or your illusion.
No, i'm not coming back -
and that's that.
Rat a tat tat - train on slow track
Each day takes me - to work and back
My mind it tune - clickety clack
Its hypnotic - repeating sound
Resonating - within my mind
Rat a tat tat - it goes around
But it must go - hear squeal below
Tis terminus - no further go
Sadly now end - that rhythmic flow
The exit ramp looms large just up ahead,
though still an unknown distance ‘round the bend,
a terminus of sorts.
Perhaps a point from which to send
us out of time constraints, into the now,
the means by which remain unknown, just how
exactly, this all ends.
To fret, a waste, ’tis said, so I shall trust instead.
And yet, this ideation blooms within
my mind, a frequent fascination that
with other thoughts, comports.
If only now, is there no then,
and sequencing of time, thus obsolete,
as all arrive en mass, surprised to meet?
The world I know is flat;
my finitude stretched thin, constrained to trust again.
—————
Another fun one, a Mistress Bradstreet stanza: 10a-10b-6c-8b-10d-10d-6b-12a
This one comes from a notion from reading Matthew 25, in the Last Judgment. All would have died at different times, but on that day, all were surprised, hence the idea of different departures, all arriving at now.
----------
This will be the third time I've added sponsor info. I do not know what is happening here...
for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 10/13/22
It's called the New South
Away from antebellum
Peaches and Peachtree
Terminus to Atlanta
Southern hospitality
The more you traverse, the less it seems.
Though, at times the terminus looks nearer,
Never-ending it is…
It’s Life!
A BRIAN STRAND SHORTIE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 23-02-2022
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