You in the shadow of your room
A young woman, not yet in your prime
Following the ways of your mother
Pulling strands of deepest indigo blue
And richest madder reds
Across the woolen warp of the loom.
Knotting nimbly as you go,
Mind relaxed, absorbed, immersed
Transported hour after hour
Day after day, month by month
A youth protected and well spent
In the deepest reaches of ancestral time.
When it’s done
You will have woven a masterpiece
Something you will quietly glow with
Something that will long outlast you
Your children, grandchildren, great
Grandchildren and culture.
You will have created a portal
Reaching across time
And space, across cultures
To suck in and absorb
The world weary
To another world.
In this other world
Children laugh and play as children do
But also learn the ways of deepest time
And spend their days apprenticing
In the ways of subtle earthy magic
The ways of warp and weft, knot and dye.
A world beyond time
In a space where lovers meet
Babies sleep
And the old die in peace
Held together on the sturdy loom
Of traditions, bound by hardship and love.
(9/18/26)
population motivated
afterworld adversity
touchingly touchline
detested comrade
undeserving snitch
shoplift stimulated
firing you
unsweet vanquish
torn debilitating
satinpod drenched
occupation serviceable
calmly savour
salvation tablemate
conceptual thanksgiving
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 27–August 2, 2026)
Eleven years ago,
while rambling in my car
along the bank of Iril river
at Kongpal Moirangpurel,
a serene countryside
I spied Ureirom plants growing there,
their flowers blooming.
Long ago in our agrarian society
their fruits dyed women’s clothes pink -
done indigenously in every household
by the womenfolk.
Now the old art has faded
year by year with time
and the plants, once grown
in abundance are no longer seen.
Next day, in scattering showers,
with a camera I went there
and captured photographs
of the plants long unseen,
wondering how they grew there
while absent elsewhere.
Today, after eleven years,
when I strolled there again
the ureirom plants were gone
among the riverbank’s weeds -
Once women’s favorite,
now out of fashion,
neglected, nowhere to be seen.
Today is a day unlike any other.
Sun rises, as it always does,
Light and Life eternal,
But today we notice it
In a personal way.
Children laughing and playing
Fueled with chocolates
Eager as hounds
Hunt for eggs
As all around scents and sights,
Symbols and signs of fertility,
A whole world born again
In the particular,
Multiply and grow
With the simple innocence
Of bunnies hopping
Through wet lawns
Heavy with the morning dew
Of a fresh spring day
Unlike any other.
(4/5/26)
ELEGANCE OF TRADITION
In regal colors, with culture there I'm at par,
Draped in blue, like a shining star,
A crown of fila upon me, eleke on my neck
Beads as embroidery, victory at my call & beck.
There I sit like a king, calm and bright,
The Yoruba heritage sparkles in my sight
As I sit like a winner that I was born to be,
Taking what's rightfully mine forcefully.
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©?13th March 2026.
Wonderfully infamous Maine sweet treat, sometimes called whoopsie.
Happiness from your first bite of chocolate cream filled cakes.
Only to disappear soon after you make them.
Optional flavors of chocolate, maple, raspberry, and peanut butter too.
Pumpkin ones in the fall are all the rage!
Icing can be in many flavors; cream cheese, vanilla, or something new.
Every bite is decadent, fattening and satisfying.
People even attend a whoopie pie festival every year.
I found that my grandmother hid a stash in her freezer, no one knew.
Easy to make and enjoy; Marjorie Standish has the best recipe too!
Unfortunately, it is an awkward tradition
That most of us have experienced the passion
Of first love, first wink, first hug and first kiss
Which had disturbed our internal peace.
I still remember the first kiss, the first touch
And the first hug after so many years on the couch
Ouch! It hurts to go back to so many years
Where mistakes had turned into serious errors.
However bad love does not exist on this planet
Experience is about trials and tribulations. I bet
Your bottom dollar that nobody is of course exempt.
These days, I rather think about heading forward
Of loving and living innocently like a brilliant nerd
In lieu of being charged haphazardly in contempt.
Copyright © February 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Groundhog, come out to play.
Spit out what you have to say.
Is spring coming our way?
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
whose flushed cheek is it that lies
within the heated crook of your arm?
whose eternal lost soul is it that dies
among the reeds, in this torrid state of alarm?
how lengthy is this penance
that we walk with blistered feet?
for all my love to lie within a sentence,
before i become the sacrificial meat
it is in this ritual that i dance,
if only for your pleasure, Sir -
a jousting champion with a fractured lance,
his young bride nestled deep in her cloak of fur
the banners wave as the swords clash,
hands are clutched and nails are bit -
in all this chaos our tempers grow rash,
igniting the firefight at the red heart of it
from a noose there hangs the remaining scraps
of a former man, clinging onto the rope -
the wind sways so upon the trunk that the heel bone taps,
a beacon, for the opposition, of brute hope
the hope that it is not their second son,
for the first stays put at high court,
who boasts of seasons and battles won -
their palpable pride permeating the fort
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
behind each numbered door,
a secret~
chocolate coins
wrapped in foil,
a cinnamon bear
stiff with sugar,
a marzipan pig
snout-deep in glitter.
the rituals are precise~
peel back the perforation,
let your finger
claim the prize.
(But never peek ahead.)
by the twenty-fourth,
the grid is gutted~
a hollow cathedral
of empty windows,
where only the memory
of sweetness lingers
like tinsel.
Two elves on a shelf
double the trouble.
They sit there conniving,
getting into mischief,
making life interesting
by spicing it up a bit.
What would Christmas be
without elves on a shelf?
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
It's with a deep feeling of love that
we decorate our Christmas tree
and mount it in a place of honour
so it brings joy to all who
will come to rest their eyes upon it.
It's a tradition close to our heart
as we bestow charm and beauty on each branch.
Many ornaments have sentimental value
as they've been passed down with great care
through years and generations.
Sparkle and glitter light up the season
with added sprinklings and flicks of magic.
Everyone enjoys how it brings out the child in us
as we reminisce about Christmases past
and feel nostalgic for loved ones we dearly miss.
AP: 2nd place 2025
holy trinity
fancy green three leaf clover
celtic tradition
We expect respect for the Ashes tradition
Supposed to be the latest greatest rendition
All in the thrall of Bazball religion expedition
Cheeky gung go have a go bro sneaky sedition
Crazy condition did explode in the Perth edition
Premonition aplomb bomb racy pacy ammunition
Oz mirth goad did implode Pom’s road to perdition
Another huge turkey was caught
The big pheasant was housed in the vault
For consumption
Not for admiration
I'm neither talking about the wild turkey
Who’s running for President
Nor the one which is a country
Now embroiled
And roiled in turmoil
I am talking about the noisy pheasant
That we all like to fest on the last Thursday
Of November every year, and on New Year’s Day.
I can’t wait to enjoy its thighs and wings
I can’t wait afterwards to make the swings
Squeak and cry, because we all weigh more
Than before: the skinny, the rich and the poor.
Happy Thanksgiving Day everybody
The President already pardoned a gorgeous turkey.
Hebert Logerie Wednesday, November 25, 2015
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