THE FALL OF ROMANCE
She'll mesmerize with magic eyes,
well versed in mirrors glass
An ancient trap to snare a chap
essential social sass.
She sells herself a different brand
of fairytale romance.
Her happily ever after,
puts her plans in advance.
The truth be bred in mysery,
as old agendas lurk.
The practicality of love
a life of unpaid work.
The quintessential bird of prey,
he builds his nest just so.
Strutting his fluff relentlessly,
a calculated show.
He bought into the programing,
consolidating lust.
A ring, a ring, ironic thing,
turns pasion into dust.
He trudges on regardlessly.
His hope now afterthought.
His covert cave of solitude
refuge for thoughts of naught.
Back in the day, twas just one way
as roles were well defined.
Now every home is it's own Rome,
one heart two separate minds.
Neither one will get what they want
when his and her's collide.
People today go their own way,
the day that marriage died.
Far right polemic is rehearsed
Hubble bubble toil and trouble
Insanity.. humanity at its worst
Together can burst their bubble
Or in the sh*t forever immersed
Burns and then turns to rubble
As damn it our planet is cursed
We need to do this at the double
Earth’s our home must be nursed
If not then we’re all in real trouble
Climate crises cannot be reversed
Don’t need a telescope like Hubble
The sea rises our cities submersed
Infanticide.. boys won’t get stubble
As all our kids’ futures are hearsed
Just hubble trouble boil and bubble
In AI’s lies we’re now all well versed
Lust for bust as cash must be pursed
FORGOTTEN INTENTIONS
a
sense
of
the
surreal
contrasting
sharply
in
immobile
apathy
surround
well-versed
elements
of
vitality
in
three
dimensional
context
..unopened
Cash Man played the field
Love to wheel
And deal
Until one day
There was no pay
Cash Man did not know what to say
Felt very alone
Picked up the phone
Heard the dial tone
Decided to go back to school
Swam in the alumni betting pool
Won the spreads
No longer in debt
Returned to flapping
And tapping
Dancing around, something always happening
Choregraphing afternoon delights
Providing entertainment rights
Especially when Cash Man is there
Playing fair
Well versed in gaming numbers
Cool as a cucumber
Cannot be stopped
Ascending towards the top
Not thinking bubble could pop
And if it does
We all knew who he was
Cash Man who played the field
Loving the wheel
And deal
Now i ask all humble.!!! You might just suppose.? That for an instance.' The situation a'rose.' Like its namesake does
From dug dung.' Fragrant and pleasing to
The nose..Also to
( the three who are yet one!)
I ask you just suppose? That some
Judges who are older.? And well versed at
Legal things..Maybe even generals.? If only
Two t'would be a thing! Mayors and police
Captains, and buisness folk at large spoke out that they craved for better.' In their land
And in their towns in their streets and on the borders, from New York to county down, from Melbourne to
Montenegto..Kinchaza to
Beijing town.. From Moscow to Montreal.. No more vanity as of kings.? Here I will mention Maria Farmer and Fiona Barnet too..As why did i not mention the FBI.? As i call
Invessantly for some to come through..)
The Poets are our quintessential rebellious, rebels
The Maroons, the Braves, and the Daredevils
There is a ton of biases even in simple poetry
The Poets are known to be born freedom fighters
The unafraidheroes of hell, the sweet bees
Which can sing and sting, and deliver honey
Even in Poetry, we encounter weird free-loaders
Sick unabashed orators and pusillanimous braggers.
The Poets are born to be different, legally liberal
Awkwardly conservative, strong ass-kickers
Blunt truth seekers, and not obedient ass-kissers
Call the generals, the Police, and bring the arsenal
Of bloated words, and epithets; dumb or foolish attributes
Write verses and elegiac poems to pay countless tributes
To the sorry plagiarists, and to the ill-polished writers
Nobody cares anymore about the well-versed truth tellers.
Copyright © November 2017, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
I have bought in boutiques
on Carnaby street,
stopped in stores galore
on the Champs-Élysées,
shopped 'til I dropped
on Madison Avenue,
and, what's more,
I've been seen to arrive,
fashionably late, on Rodeo Drive,
but one thing I hate,
and doubt I'll see, or there'll ever be,
as there's not much call,
for a linear row of shops downtown,
in a small Möbius strip mall.
Tho' Johann B. Listing (1808 – 1882),
rediscovered the non-orientable surface first,
Mr. August F.Möbius (1790 – 1868)
published his findings earlier and, well-versed,
Euclidean geometry taught he,
while, his wife, Dorothea, danced provocatively,
in pole position, at a nightclub naughty,
and, where out at night, on a fun day trip,
paying punters paid to ogle and view,
the ever-arousing Mrs. Möbius strip.
She is Well Versed, Abundant and Blessed
by Sara Teasdale
She speaks in tones the stars would keep,
Soft syllables of hidden seas,
Her laughter wakes the buds from sleep,
And scatters warmth through autumn trees.
The world is richer for her gaze,
Where light bends close to kiss her face.
Each step she takes is spun with praise,
And lilies bloom to scent the air.
Her hands hold rain, her eyes the skies,
Her heart a deep, untroubled well,
She gathers dreams the dawn supplies,
And guards the truths she will not hide.
Through all she gives, she knows her worth—
In love’s wide garden, she has rest;
She walks the shining fields of earth,
Well versed, abundant, wholly blessed.
If love for your spouse you choose to neglect,
Your neighbor may swoop in with fond respect.
If workers you treat with little care,
Your rivals will claim them, sharp and aware.
A job in your field may keep you afloat,
Yet greatness is born where no lessons were wrote.
In medicine's halls, one truth rings tight—
No syringe is touched till the purse feels light.
A man with success sees his wife take the stand,
She guides, supports—a secretary at hand.
But failure flips the tale once more,
The secretary steps in as wife to adore.
For jobs, they demand those well-versed and wise,
Yet fresh faces alone meet their searching eyes.
In marriage, they dream of innocence new,
But find instead experience true.
Mohammed Rakibul Hossain
It started off as a domestic
Nothing new in that
With one word borrowing another
The usual case of tit for tat
Men are not so well versed with verbals
While their better halves have words to burn
Yet her sharp and stinging words
No headway were making to take him down
Until she threw in the dynamite ,"You're driving me mad!"
An opportunity he should have done better to resist
Fool that he was ,he just could not let his flippant riposte
Be missed
And out it came, "It's just a short drive."
His convalescence is going well
Dorian Grey
has lost all trace of his self-image.
Like many elderly male models,
there are now no mirrors in his mind.
Musty images of his centenarius youth
are hid in crusty shoeboxes.
Like many, he collects his social security,
munches slowly on a daily bowl of Cheerios,
then entertains himself
by watching cat videos on YouTube.
Sometimes, he pens the odd melancholy muse
as do many another, well versed,
superannuated
senior citizen.
She was well-versed in writing,
With words which touches the heart more than the pierce of a nose ring,
Her characters are bold,
With a nature both haughty and cold.
Elizabeth did find her Darcy at last,
Though she did not explore him much,
Like finding a piece of creamy cake after hours of fast,
And finding someone who is one such!
She wrote at a time when much women could not,
Thirsty for expressing - like the oozing blood from a cut without getting clot.
A bird in flight
A feather in the wind
Relavations of a past
No one knows within
Yet I transcend to planes
Of intrepid wonder
While others sleep
My mind floats asonder
And why I ask is this so
Some brains dormant
While others to and fro
Insanity maybe the best
Will white coats come
Knocking to take me
A life less stressed
Locked in a room
Alone and drugged up
Food on a tray
Drugs in a cup
Doctor feel good
Stops by to talk
I refrain from speaking
To make this
Journey stop
A bird in flight
A feather in the wind
I am not insane
My thoughts are
Held within
When they free me
From this curse
I will return
To a life well versed
How do these women cut with their bare hands- their surrounding net?
Well, I refer to- Jane, Margaret, Aphra, Virginia and Charlotte,
Who are well known even without their surnames,
And who were well-versed in the field of Literature; to play all kind of games!
The female embodiment of grace,
In the field of writing in which they all were Ace,
Yet none can even now erase,
Their Glorious and Wonderful writing's days.
Austen, Cavendish, Behn, Woolf and Bronte,
Their surnames are enough for knowing the glory to the field of English -
-Literature they had brought,
They too were one of a kind,
And also The Priceless Gems, we may yet never find!
The setting sun weaves a poem,
blossoming
unsung trochaic along the river basin
(Nurulhuda Junction. Teesta)
Sometimes it feels quite an estranged thought to realise that living is a mundane day to day thing to sustain. The welfare causes are demanding all those intricate , subtle personal delicate feelings, into a powermonger possessive expositional ownership, for no good understood parameter.
The book was well versed. Muzzammil was lying on his bed, half awakened. He took his glass pairs off. A pair of opaque spectacles, with the littlemost effort, both the bifocal parts are often sweaty. He was waiting for his wife’s special morning tea, everyday. Remote area in the suburban side, every day newscaster is often quote a belated story there.
December, 2025
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