I am a prodigal Son of a gun
Who fears nothing under the Sun
I am a brave and defiant soldier
I am a peaceful gladiator
My pencil is my substitute sword
My pen is my deadly weapon
I write one word at a time, one word
Which can destroy their plan
My pen is like a machine gun
An M16, which spits with a lot of fun
The words, the poems, the bullets
The rhymes, the truth and the pellets
I am not a namby-pamby, a yellowbelly prisoner
Because my mind is free
My mind is free like the air
I have a brain that no one, nobody
Can conceivably control. I am a free Man
I am a Soldier who carries a pen
As a deadly, unprofaned and dangerous weapon.
Copyright © September 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Categories:
unprofaned, beauty, courage, feelings, inspiration,
Form: Rhyme
Eyes flared in agitation
Damasked in utmost lament
The tyrants laughed in vanity
Remains of his mother lie still
As if the winds were holding their breath
The urn cracked and cold as night
Alone, the eyes softened
His heart a hermit of radiance
Temples tingled as silence stayed
The unprofaned laughter now ash-shamed
Hot tears of fervor reduced their pig-headed ways
He kneeled to his mother as they gazed
In the urn she no longer cried
Even in the urn did she not abide
April 28, 2014
Categories:
unprofaned, absence, abuse, death, mother,
Form: Free verse
My son upon this Christmas Eve
I reminisce of midnight hours
Your fingers dancing over tenuous keys
And the emotions your talent empowers
I couldn't comprehend how you taught yourself to play
Or just how this symphony of one became
The songs you have inside of you like heaven on display
I revel in your poignant craft uniquely unprofaned
It's true that your propensity
Can lean toward darkened depth
A common vein for artists
To be moody and depressed
For your pain releases beauty
by your gift it's voice relates
You know your in the masters company
of Mozart, Bach, and Hemingway
So when your struggles weigh
As the sea laden oceans sand
Take your seat and breathe
Stretch out your feral hands
Creating an instrumental euphoria
For the lonely and the damned
Open the gate to moods your feigning
Though others will misunderstand
Christmas Eve and it's memories
This flashback came my way
Of your very first piano
The best investment I ever made
But one day when I'm aged and old
It will be you who cares for me
Play for me then on that Christmas Eve
With your love in every stroke
Categories:
unprofaned, absence, children, christmas, love,
Form: Quatrain