Two hours in her closet grew thin,
And her patience even more.
Each dress a "no," nerves start to show,
And her date is at the door.
She snags a sundress off the floor,
And sandals for her feet,
A quick brush through her hair,
And downstairs to meet—
Her young man, who looks up
To unabashedly stare.
A moment she’s frozen
With a "do I even dare?"
Then a smile and indrawn breath,
The boy is surely smitten.
The irony of her dressing escapades
Seems so perfectly befitten.
Ooh La La.
Who’s the man behind the glass;
the husband and father?
Who’s the man who beats up
the drums; crashes the cymbals?
In the far corner of the stage,
behind the acrylic shields,
playing his heart out, oft unnoticed;
who’s the man behind the screens?
The pastor steps up to the pulpit.
He draws attention to a quiet man.
There is a child I’ve been praying for.
A toddler who was in grave danger.
Suffering in silence, the man and wife.
Beating of drums, crashing of cymbals.
Pointed out by the pastor; poignant
sentiments and regard. Story told.
The drummer’s head falls, tears roll
like a quavering reverberation. Applause
as child to come home before Christmas;
prayers heard and God’s granted healing.
This man likely doesn’t crave attention,
humbled by intervention. Praying hands
and hearts, he’s surely glad for.
Unlikely tears, of a drummer, fell unabashedly.
A beautiful, colorful day elicits fantasy,
beginning with a dawn of tangerine-hued sky.
Envisioning a monarch’s wings fluttering,
into the sky with poetry I fly.
Lovely mellow noon offers pink quince
blossoming beneath a sky clear blue.
I imagine strolling with my love along a lane.
Romance, along with nature, blooms anew.
Radiant sun tumbles unabashedly violet
into its deep, mirroring, rippling sea.
I picture myself as a purple starling.
Winging beyond the horizon, I flee.
Lucid moonlit night opens pensively
as if it were a muse in a robe of bluish-gray.
One of myriad stars I now become,
wishing from Dreamland never to stray.
Her big beautiful eyes were piercing me up and close
Her playful smile playing all over, vainly trying to prepare me
But, as always, in a trance I lay, heart pounding, mind blanked out.
Completely unaware of everything, except her unabashedly gorgeous presence.
Moments passed, without a word, without an act
Didn't know it was that typical lull before the storm
And then it stormed down, here, there and everywhere
Voluptuous kisses, first gently in isolation and then unending showers.
Me taken completely by surprise, pinned, breathless, overwhelmed.
But, at the same time, enjoying the wildness, the ecstasy, the euphoria.
To get drenched in the first flush of rain, I guess, is always memorable.
'It's raining!' my little one exclaims, and I nod, struggling to look out.
Oh, I’d rush to my create my rainbow without haste.
With each sun blessed color, having its own, unique taste!
Only of the delicious flavors, that this poetess deem best.
Tantalizing, with a full-bodied, fruitful and fresh zest.
I would make the rainbow into an astounding, colorful slide,
And invite those I love, to join me in a most, unusual ride.
We would be proud to speak of God~without humiliation.
And how great this country is, with no fear of intimidation!
Inevitably, I will color it, the famous red, white and blue.
Being unabashedly patriotic, with joy and gratitude, too!
10/21/2024
I’ve littered the page with alliteration
Marbled it with metaphor
Injected it with irony
Confined it in constrictive cadence
Slathered it with slithering syllabic silliness
Ravenously roamed the Rhyme Zone
Challenged the demons of “How many dot com”
Punctuated the un-punctuatable
Said “the heck with spelchek”
Shed the shroud of sentient surveillance
For my words are fed through
The shredders of sentiment
The chopping blades of “critique”
The swirling blades of trimmers
The plucky platitudes of pruners
And yet I write, compose, imbue
In unseen color distant words
Rough cut diamonds
Defying the cutters edges
Leaving a life unpolished
Unabashedly unashamed
Of the tarnished truths
That mar the purity
Of poetry’s perfection
When death said "Hello", a chest was opened wide.
A serpent sashayed in, toward a heart and its gloaming.
Spitting black pinballs between the brain and the soul.
A flock of night biters moved into sanity's narrows...
I pulled a little amber cross from mahogany shadows.
Praying with the might of storms, to a God just out of sight.
To unchain the mind from the pit viper pissing out lye.
Two seasons have passed, all but a half pinball is left.
The mercy of amber has filled the crack in the chest.
The movement of moments is the only constant...
Death is so unabashedly timeless and arrogant.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter,
Nature’s endless march.
Each a cherished visitor.
With grace and determination,
one by one each takes its turn on stage.
Seeds, long buried, know their time
to release next generations
of flowers, grasses, trees, all else.
Each a phoenix in repose.
Deeply programmed to unfold.
Blossoming young sprouts—
break free from earth's clutches,
under ever-changing skies.
Suddenly, a grand symphony erupts.
Rapturous melodies released.
The meadow basks in warm sunlight,
where perky wildflowers seduce the bees.
Luring them deep into their folds.
With life’s nectar on their feet,
they fly off, sharing their fertile riches.
Summer’s end, a clarion's call to autumn.
No need for mourning—
the leaves set themselves free.
Unabashedly beautiful,
they tumble ceremoniously to the ground.
Frost arrives, a masterful artist,
draping a shimmering veil over land and wood,
under the cool whisper of winter’s breath.
Nights grow longer,
while days slumber in long-awaited rest.
Behind the closed curtain,
silent dormancy arrives,
as life withdraws into hidden chambers--
Till once again,
they hear thaw's gentle call to awaken.
She is
has always been
a safe place for joy
It radiates from her pale skin
Her frame is small and slight
The shadow walkers
fail to see her magnificence
“She’s such a daydreamer”
“When will she ever grow up”
Little magical things
recognize their own
Butterflies flit about and softly land on her
They feel no threat
She has an essential calm
Together they vibrate in harmony
Wordless whispers
Wings of wonder
Joyful oscillations
She leans into her happy
Unabashedly open
Floating on imperceptible notes
A delicate destiny
An eternity of possibilities
Her direct path to joy
It’s so sad the shadow walkers cannot see
They cannot dream
They cannot feel her joy
They are bogged down in the muck of responsibility
Yes, they grew up far too quickly
To them the world is grey.
Consumed by doubt, down but not out
Swig of whiskey tickles the throat
rags for a coat
Down on his luck, surviving on pluck
Bums another cigarette
breaks out in cold sweat
Begs unabashedly
points to you and me
Inside, you shudder
~ unashamed, I flee
Express yourselves unabashedly my friends
Because no one can honestly give you a grade
Write your poems with your own hands
Make them natural, beautiful and homemade.
Don’t worry about foes, faux, aliens and others
Just do what you need to do my friends
To find good, fair, impartial or sagacious readers
Be creative or innovative to embark on your own trends.
All poems are important, relevant and famous
All poems are born from a particular or divine inspiration
Be bold, brave, controversial, generous and ingenuous.
Bias exists even in literary art poetry. Ignore the laughs
Continue writing. This world is full of odds, hurdles and gaffes
Be happy! It’s needless to yearn for a standing ovation.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to my friend, Juan Felix Of Orlando and others.
Juan, I wish you a speedy recovery. You're in my thoughts, prayers and poems.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
in streams of sunbeams inviting
my face to turn upwards
I am captured by intangible senses of
nutmeg and cinnamon communion-
candy-coated moments blossoming
As the wizard of memories wakes a dream
speechless and smiling
standing and body turning with movement
I am drawn onto the shag carpet
of blades sprouting green lightheartedness
tickling the soles of my feet
unabashedly bare
naked on an aimless path
shuffling gaited rhythms of a waltz step
striking with carefree muted thuds
on the squishy sod
jumping-running-skipping…
lifting ever higher-a freedom
that only children know
visitors from the ghosts of my youth
appear from the mettle of my core
singing, talking and laughing
each lyric echoing unrestrained
their haunting chimes pasted
in a basket of blue skies painted
with art of clouds
colored like vague stranded souvenirs-
a pictorial imbued across the horizon
a stage-play of our backyard friendships
step-by-step twirling-arms swinging-round
bare feet colliding with smiles
and I…..with great laughter...
I danced with them all!
November 2, 2022
This or That Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Renascence
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly
I find myself indulging in silly frivolity,
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.
Occasionally I pen things distastefully,
Not considering my life’s finer quality
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly.
Often, I am reminded of this by family
In their special positions and filial capacity
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.
And taken to task, I react apologetically,
For I sometimes get trapped in triviality
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly.
I’m guilty of some silliness unabashedly,
I have even written my share of parody
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.
Most of these I’ve kept sealed hermetically
Lately, I’ve indulged in some bawdy comedy
Sometimes my mind wanders aimlessly
When I think about it, rather shamelessly.
written March 23, 2022
revised March 24, 2022
Need my first thing in the morning cuppa tea
bladder’s screaming ‘how long can I hold this pee?
but I am waiting for a darned online delivery
App says 8 more stops, so I know he’s getting near
then hopefully these butterflies will disappear
Footsteps creak along the corridor, it could be him
bet those nosey bastards went and let him in
Naah, must be a resident or someone visiting.
App now says 5 more stops then he’ll be here
butterflies go wild – it’s a frenzied bacchanal
dancing, unabashedly as though its carnival
The tea, the pee, a number two, can all wait
He’ll soon be here before I’m in a real state.
App now say 3 more stops, then he’ll be here
soon I can get on with the rest of my day
butterflies could then stop their taunting play.
OH NO! app shows his current location
my near elation has turned to frustration
never mind butterflies, my stomach is in a knot
wondering if he will come today - or not.
Put the kettle on, better make a nice cuppa tea
sat on the toilet, desperately needed that pee
number two shouted worriedly ‘oi what about me?’
Then, just then, there is a ringing on my bell.
Butterflies danced - now they can go to hell.
Those little cracks you wear
on the outside -
why must you dislike them so?
Show them unabashedly,
for every little crease and wrinkle
is the sum total
of all that you have experienced -
the sum of your disappointments and afflictions,
but also the sum total of every single time
you ever smiled!
Neither shrink back in the shadows
nor try to cover your physical flaws.
Rather – let yourself be seen
in daylight’s brilliance -
the amazing you!
Feel the sun caress your spirit’s frame.
Let it paint you
golden.
Aug. 18, 2021
For 'A BRIAN STRAND Libre Vers' Poetry Contest
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