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Zywa 2d
A sleepy village,

the doors and shutters are closed --


Dogs barking loudly.
Poem "vluchtweg" ("escape route", 2022, Emilie Dewitte)

One-act play "Huis clos" ("Closed doors", 1943, Jean-Paul Sartre)

Collection "Within the walls"
Lawrence Hall Nov 20
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                         I’m Gonna Tell Santa Claus on You!

                                            Nora and Theo

The children scamper across my grassy lawn
And bring me wiggly worms to identify
Big acorns to admire, lemons fallen weeks before
Sticks and leaves, pinecones, flowers, and bits of bark

They lose their shoes and socks beneath the oak
They drink from the water hose and don’t turn it off
They chase the dog and the dog chases them
They shriek out joyfully because they can

I growl that if I mow another bit of brick
I’m gonna tell ol’ Santa Claus on them

They laugh at me, and bring me another worm
Please know that I am on the ViaSat / Verizon / Directv / Netgear axis of frequent lack of service. I never ignore correspondence, but in the mornings my InterGossip works very slowly at best and the evenings even more slowly and increasingly not at all. Responding to you may take some time.
zara Nov 8
Sometimes I feel for my dog's heartbeat
because I know, at nine and a half years,
she hasn't got long left.

Sometimes I think about how I will react
when a death happpens.
Will I cry? Will I scream?
And then I feel guilty for imagining such a thing.

Sometimes I wonder how my friends
would react for me.
Would they shed tears?
Maybe not.
At this point, they'd probably
shrug and say they didn't know.
Ils consomment des chiens chauds, hot dogs
Aussi
Comme vous
Mais ils ne mangent pas de chiens
Jamais, jamais
Ils ne mangent pas de chats
Ils ne mangent pas d'animaux de compagnie
Jamais, jamais.

Les immigrants mangent des sangliers
C'est du ‘Griot piqué’
Ils ne mangent pas de lapins
Mais ils mangent du ‘Tasso épicé’
Et bien sûr, ils mangent des hot dogs, des chiens chauds.

Les Haïtiens mangent et boivent de la Soupe Joumou
Dans laquelle nagent des légumes et bien sûr des carottes
La cuisine haïtienne
Est très, très bonne
Les immigrants consomment de bonnes viandes
Comme vous.

Arrêtez d'être raciste
Arrêtez d'être fasciste
Vos ancêtres mangeaient des chiens
Pas les immigrants, pas les Antillais
Et surtout pas les Haïtiens
Arrêtez cette haine honteuse
Pensez à votre sort
Au dernier rendez-vous
Les immigrants mangent des cochons frits
Comme des milliards d'Américains
Qui aiment les tartes aux pommes
Arrêtez les mensonges, arrêtez tous les mensonges.

P.S. Traduction de ‘They Eat Good Hot Dogs’.

Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.
Haitians do not eat dogs or pets
They consume hot dogs
Too
Like you
But they don’t eat dogs
Never, ever
They do not eat cats
They do not eat pets
Never, never.

Immigrants eat wild boars, wild hogs
That’s hot Griot
They don’t eat rabbits
But they eat spicy Tassot
And of course, they eat hot dogs.

Haitians eat and drink Soup Joumou
Which contains vegetables and of course carrots
Haitian food
Is very, very good
Immigrants consume good meats
Like you.

Stop being racist
Stop being supremacist
Years ago, your ancestors used to eat dogs
Not immigrants, not West Indians
Not Haitians
Quit the hate
Think about your fate
On the final date
Immigrants eat fried wild hogs
Like zillion of Americans
Who love apple pies
Stop the lies, stop all the lies.

Copyright © October 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
Morgan Howard Oct 25
My life is good
Right?

I have a father
Smart
Kind
A provider for our family
I have a mother
Loving
Hardworking
Someone who will always be here for me
I have a sister
Talented
Hilarious
My best friend

I have a roof over my head
Clothes on my body
Food in my stomach

I have electronics for my entertainment
Friends who I can talk to
Two adorable dogs
Who never fail to put a smile on my face

I have everything I need to be happy
So why aren't I?
Lark Oct 7
weight, gentle against the softness of
my belly; there, mandible, and the
other: ribbons of cornflower fettering
hollow-bird-bones soothing
dessicated pinions; chasing the
empty billow 'neath ribs swelling, stretching, the
emptiness of the throat; gazing down; stroking
gentle against a silken cranium; pressure
points, GV20 TH21 GB20, then
down the pinna,
watched with placid wet eyes. Fingers
weave into your scruff, curling, longing;
consumed.
Zywa Sep 28
The hounds sniff the ground,

fallen leaves and moss, they are --


no longer hunting.
Novel "De honden jagen niet meer" ("The hounds no longer hunt", 1979, Albert Alberts)

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
It’s a doggie dog world so watch where you step
Foot in mouth syndrome is spreading like strep
But a house of prevention is worth more than liqueur
Have a spoon full, a mind full, are you feeling demure?  

Inside effects may include outlaws of vision
But don’t freeze your auntie, make a thawed out decision
Keep on pugging, plugging a way
You will fly like a beagle, as every doc has his day

While thyme keeps on dripping into the tincture
And limericks rhyme everything, except the kitchen sphincter
Now refill your subscription and do as I say
Because a Hornaday keeps the doctor away

And give us this tray, our daily meds
While terrier-ism threatens to Smirnoff our heads
It’s a mystery wrapped in poodle, but misery loves coventry
And it takes a heckuva lot, to go parking up a wrong tree

Just another Shih-Tzu day, making trouble in paradise
Ain’t nothing but a ground hog, gone skating on the nice
Though I wouldn’t herd a fly, or let a wafer stray
Don’t doubt the Roman knows my aroma was built in a day
Gh0ski3 Aug 27
O to be as light as the sky,
To have the earth look up at you and admire your beauty,
To be loved by the birds and hugged by the clouds
I lay onto the icy gravel and look towards the heavens.
Am I too heavy?

I will know what love feels like...

It is lonely,
I want the night's glittering infinity,
To feel the world shine for me and me only
I want to chase the big planets of the sky as i did the ***** i fetched on concrete lawns

I was born to love unconditionally, and so i was chosen for something very special
Scientists take me from the cold and give me a home,
They will give me strange food and show me things beyond my comprehension.

I want to understand...

It's scary, they put me in ship much too small for my already thin body.
There is no light and i'm shivering from fear,...
Or the cold,
I can't seem to spot the difference between the two

The doubt begins to set and I am alone again,
But they tell me I'm prepared to fly,
Higher than the birds,
Higher than the sky.

I plan to be as extraordinary as i promised...

Far from my home the exploding adrenaline scares me,
The tip of my tail is hidden between my shaking legs,
And my heart races faster than the breath that heaves in my chest

There is this everlying, unfamiliar, stink
It won't go away
Something is wrong and i can feel it
Feel it all
There's a faint sound of flaking metal in the distance
It is of no comfort to me.

I am afraid...

The flames warm my worries and within breach of the cold atmosphere,
I can feel the embrace of death caressing me
The impending doom starts to fade away and there is only peace,
Finally peace.

My canine body is now long gone,
Rained onto Soviet soil,
But they are unsurprised.
Was I never supposed to come back?

I know how love feels.

They will remember me
When they look up at the sky and watch my spirit play with the constellations

Although it remains unfinished,
My mission on earth has been completed...
I have kissed the stars for humanity

-To Laika, the space dog
This was one of my first, i'd say "good" poems that I wrote, I have a sort of attachment to this one because of that.
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