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another brooklyn afternoon
the sound of scamps playing below
and the passing subway roar
who can ask for more
on this brooklyn afternoon
the sunshine asks
what else in store
just the shadows of curtains
and trees if you please
tempering a fading sirening
back into familiar
hums of a city that'll
never appease
as an early spring evening
settles in to say it's alright
and so long to you and
everyone, and twilight
purrs on for us and anyone
always again.
I love sun-drenched afternoons when the world seems softer,

when people seem to be going about their day as usual,
but they seem more at peace.

when I can hear every sound around me,
but my mind feels silent.

when I'm walking towards my destination,
but I feel like I'm walking aimlessly in solace.

something so nostalgic, something so special, wish I could relish in this reverie forever.
m Feb 28
sunday on a saturday afternoon  
fills my lungs with soda taste longing  
flinging through words never said  
to spit out of my head  
here i lie on the bedding

sunday comes around  
to feed me to the ground  
silence waits til i turn to say ‘i found you’

saturday sun on a sweet afternoon  
week full, ate up my work til i threw up on you    
what was that last thing we spoke about?

like,  
just wait til it ends  
just wait til it ends  
sun sat day to wait til it ends

and then you know like  
it starts on a friday night  
we’ll tie our hands together  
over our new tv  
we’ll watch the stories as they play

of a life worth living past sunday  
life worth living past sunday
Nancy Maine Jan 27
Swirly, twirly clouds
Whirling in the bright blue sky
Dancing with the wind
When abruptly, suddenly, and unexpectedly the day
Became the darkest night, countrymen and friends
We didn't know if we should run while saying hello
Farewell or goodbye. The earth was shaking until infinity
Incessantly like afternoon trains coming from countless
Directions. The hour was vital. We were searching for the gleam
Of a hope in order to escape from the supernatural snarl
Where thousands of lives have been lost. Material goods
Are not important, we see ourselves leaving as we
Came. We must recognize that money is futile and peace
Is the most precious thing that we need. The past
This is where stealthy, fleeting and volatile happiness resides
It's like the end of a world. Oh! Every being is useful.

The fault or the rift opened its big mouth to engulf babies
Adults, dogs, cats, houses, buildings and entire roads
That was the apocalypse, which was the end for thousands of citizens
That disappeared like smoke in the bewitched clouds
The trains were invisible but people had risen their hands
In the air, climbing vehicles without doors and tires. Heavy feet
Weighed ten times more than an elephant. We were going to
Unknown destinations. The dumbfounded and deafening cries were
Ubiquitous. Mother Earth was shaking. She shook like she was
About to sink into the sea where the ebb and flow landed
At the skirt of the curtain, where smoke and cloudiness met
Happy are those who have been saved and who live in peace
The earthquake is an infernal avatar that brings sorrow and regret
Haiti, our country has lost lovely people, dear little children
Due to the selfishness of avaricious rulers who are drowning in hypocrisy
We keep saying aloud: poor Haiti, impoverished country. Yet we don't stop crying
While wondering when the tears will cease dropping, melting away and exuding.

Copyright © January 10, 2021, Hébert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Lorsque brusquement et soudainement le jour
Devenait la nuit la plus obscure, compatriotes et amis
On ne savait pas si on devait courir en se disant bonjour
Adieu ou au revoir. La terre tremblait jusqu'à l'infini
Sans halte, comme des trains nocturnes venant de plusieurs
Directions. L'heure était vitale. On cherchait la lueur
D'un espoir pour s'échapper de l'embrouillamini surnaturel
Où des milliers de vies ont été disparues. Les biens matériels
Ne sont pas importants, on se voit partir tel qu'on est
Venu. On doit reconnaitre que l'argent est futile et la paix
Est la chose la plus précieuse qu'on nécessite. Le passé
C'est là que réside un bonheur furtif, éphémère et volatil
C'est comme la fin d'un monde. Oh! Chaque être est utile.

La faille a ouvert sa grande gueule pour engloutir: bébés
Adultes, chiens, chats, maisons, édifices et routes en entier
C'est l'apocalypse, c'est la fin pour des milliers de citoyens
Qui ont disparu comme de la fumée dans les nuages ensorcelés
Les trains étaient invisibles mais les gens montaient, les mains
En l'air, dans des véhicules sans portes et ni pneus. Les pieds
Lourds pesaient dix fois plus qu'un éléphant. On partait vers des
Destinations inconnues. Les cris abasourdis et muets étaient
Partout. La Terre tremblait. Elle a tremblé comme si elle voulait
S'engloutir dans la mer où le flux et le reflux s'atterrissaient
À la jupe du rideau où la fumée et la nébulosité se rencontraient
Heureux sont ceux qui ont été sauvés et qui vivent en paix
Le séisme est un avatar infernal qui apporte peines et regrets
Haiti, notre pays a perdu des gens charmants, des petits enfants chéris
A cause de l'égoïsme des dirigeants safres imbibés dans l'hypocrisie
On ne cesse de dire à haute voix: pauvre Haiti. On ne cesse de pleurer
En se demandant quand les larmes cesseront de sombrer et d'exsuder.

Copyright© 10 Janvier 2021, Hébert Logerie, Tous Droits Réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Bekah Halle Aug 2024
There's something satisfying
About enjoying the afternoon sun
With a lime and whiskey; drinking
In the moment, chomping crisps and
Reading prolific piquant poetry by everyone.
Anais Vionet Jun 2024
As we sailed the fast river of Rhône
the steady sun bleached it a sparkling gold
like the treasures of Caesar’s kingdom

A curtain of fawn-silken tackle, shaded
back the fervidly garish star scatter,
and cooling flower-scented airs tickled
the senses like touching down-soft silk

"zhuang hong zhuang sheng" (Chinese)
“Put on airs’ - Peter and I are Gatsby gilded.
Why not dress - on luminous forenoons?

Pick a heart, any heart and ***** it, sharply,
with the sight of a handsome man.
I yet breathless, breathe

What weapon is sharper than libido?

I defend myself, with fashion’s sartorial sparkle.
Frankly, I was hoping for something passively ******,
you know, foment a false perception - dazzle
with fancy outwork to tip the cosmic balance

Men will witness what they believe
.
.
song for this:
Desperately Trying by Club des Belugas, Anna Luca

10p.0615
From Merriam Webster’s “Word of the day’ list: Foment: to grow or develop
Anais Vionet Nov 2023
My last Thursday class is over - my class-week is over.

Looking back at the science building we’d just left,
the hallway looked dark, like the throat of an animal,
the people snaked out like a tongue, the archway
seemed like a mouth - I shivered and looked away.

Lisa laughed, and my senses returned to reality.

The clouds on high, hung like fresh linens on a line
being dried by the sun in its Egyptian-blue heaven.

The air smelled rich, clean and ionized and ever
the inventive stylist, it periodically rearranged my hair.

Leaves rustled, sounding like a buzz of conversation,
as they rushed from place to place, as if late to class.

The breeze was working hard, in jerky flourishes,
like the strokes of an indecisive artist.

The afternoon seemed as bright and brash as a shout    
as if it wanted, no demanded, our emotional attention
and I gave it, smilingly, ready for the weekend.
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