Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Le ciel est bleu clair, blanc et éthéré
Pour accueillir à cœur joie le printemps
Si beau, frais, coloré, et endimanché
Oh! C'est un jeune et nouveau temps.

Oh! Les amis, c'est la plus superbe saison
Les gazons verts retournent à l'horizon
Les oiseaux reprennent leurs refrains
Écoutez passer les vénérables trains.

Les petits enfants jouent dans les rues
Maintes belles femmes se promènent presque nues
Où certains se plongent dans des agréables rêves.

Les arbres déjà bien remplis de douces sèves
Sont en bonne et superbe forme pour la saison
Chers amis, naturellement fructueuse sera la moisson.

Copyright © April 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Cassandra Nov 12
What must it be like? To be
⋆。°✩ A STAR ⋆。°✩
Seated in the midst of excellence,
Beyond the every day's sub-par.
Shining.
Big, Bold, bright and golden.
I want to be one.

The subject of jealous eyes and deep desires.
⋆。°✩⋆ A STAR 。°✩
held high in sky and sparkling fires.
To live in richness and drenched in luxury,
The realisation of all the admiration,
a being of sheer fascination.
Born all adored and golden.
Shining light near and far.
One day. I want to be. I will be.  
                    ⋆。°✩ THE STAR ⋆。°✩
Wrote this after watching harry style's grammy acceptance speech and thought how awesome it would be to be on the stage surrounded by claps and admiration. To achieve the most there is. Kind of freeing i guess- to have nothing to prove after.
Where's there's dreams,
there's always disbelief,
clouds of silver lining
coins tossed in fountains,
ages covered in grazing,
wishing for lover lazing,
blinded as such to poison,
sprayed on every flower.

Lit up is the exit sign &
evil the twin that binds,
and for love we give a sigh
wishing moments to rewind.

A wish to do it differently,
comes across all too frequently,
Does the diamond ring sparkle
worth divorce & note hackles?

I'll tell you all a story,
of my past glories
My dad was proud
but look at him, now.
Don't believe the wishbone,
standing under the mistletoe,
Dreams will come crashing,
and the blood stops rushing.
Jeremy Betts Nov 10
Behind the smoke and mirrors
Are discarded dreams and futures
Next to the buckets of collected tears
And sound proofing so no one hears
The pain and agony
The curses and profanity
As I try to beat the life out of me
Feeling my will fade gradually
Laughing like it's funny
And should the curtain fall
Exposing the brawl
Shining light on it all
Then I'll
Be forced to make the call
To build a wall
Four times as thick and twice as tall
To keep out all a y'all

©2024
Through sultry silken mists, I wander, lost in desire,
as morning's fiery kiss awakens the earth's sweet fire.
The air is heavy with secrets; I sip dew's sweet wine,
and savor the taste of her, my lips still tingling with the sign—
a longing that lingers, a hollow ache that echoes with each sigh

I know this path, where her silhouette unwinds,
a serpentine embrace, stone by stone.
The trees, like sentinels of hushed secrets,
their leaves a whispering veil, our wet skin made known

Her hair, like Fall, lays a veil of auburn leaves,
soft as tears that nourish the earth.
Where roots and shadows intertwine,
her essence mingles, a sweet rebirth  

I close my eyes, and her gaze enfolds,
warm breath tracing my skin's tender folds.
The fog caresses me, a sensual embrace,
blouse and shorts fall as leaves, I let her memory find her place

Last night, our scents became as one,
a drip of honey on love’s mound
this morning, unwashed, I carry her still—
a sacred musk, our souls now bound

The cool air stirs with nature's gentle sigh,
slowly parting my sticky legs, to catch her passionate cry,
Lungs draw in deep the wild musk's sweet fire,
a hidden pulse my body fuels with desire

I sink into the leaf-carpeted ground,
dew flows within, soothing my every desire.
As fog and earth finds our scent,
my wetness flows with nature's intent.

In fog's embrace, her memory unfurls,
our scents, our dreams, mingle, then soar;
the earth's pulse beats beneath my flushed skin,
as my breath kindles the forest's glow within.

The rush of water, her sultry sighs—
a lover's serenade, sweet and clear;
I close my eyes, swept away by lush tones,
each caress a memory I hold dear.

But morning's fire will melt this misty veil,
and her faint trace will dissolve into light.
My body, flush with memories that prevail,
will face the day with a jade-like, shadowed trail

For what is life without her radiant love,
if only nature whispers our hidden truth—
two souls adrift like autumn leaves that fall,
our brief, glimmering, lost youth.
Lizzie Bevis Nov 7
Add a lot of dedication,
mix it with pure determination.
Pour in patience by the pound
and let persistence stir around.

Fold well with hard work's might,
work sufficiently and rest well at night.
Simmer with an open mind,
and leave all doubts and fears behind.

Let it cook with passion's flame,
until you've earned a respected name.
Season well with positivity,
and garnish with creativity.

Serve with grace and gratitude,
Topped with a winning attitude.
This recipe, when followed well,
Yields success, as time will tell.

Bon appétit!

©️Lizzie Bevis
Inspired by @VanitaVats poem Cooking (https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4909130/cooking/)
and @Liana’s Recipe for a poem (https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4909140/recipe-for-a-peom/)
Thank you and enjoy :)
And you chose me
All of me
As I am
And I tried my best
To stay asleep
And soak it in
But the alarm always goes off
At an inopportune time
I guess you’ve worked your way back into my subconscious - though I did it for you.
Oh! No, they should never talk about Borinquén
Puerto Rico, Porto Rico in such an evil fashion
PR swims in the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea
With other exquisite islands like Cuba, Jamaica, and Haiti
Puerto Rico is a gorgeous Caribbean Archipelago
With high mountains. Oh! Yes, wonderful Puerto Rico
Has perfect blue and white sky, tropical rainforests
Crystal clear water beaches, and she’s one of the best
Puerto Rico can never be ‘a floating island of garbage’
She’s lovely with a lot of potential. In this day and age
Some crazy clowns or comedians must have a lot of nerves
To insult such a sweet Boricua with friendly peoples
I’ll be going to Puerto Rico soon to search for my stunning Saint
My Santa, my Queen. I’m going to become an artist to paint
The smile of this paradise island. Borinquén dear, my love
Javier Solis is right. You are the land of dreams, my love
No one can tarnish your unique image. I will visit you soon
With lovely dreams in my heart and with a silver spoon
So I can enjoy your cuisine and seep up your tropical cocktail
While diving deep into the eyes of my dazzling and **** angel
Our Puerto Rico is a mythological Island for dreamers
Our Puerto Rico is a tropical Archipelago for lovers.

Copyright © November 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
This poem is my response to this crazy comedian.
We slip from our cars, a silent scene,  
and I see her—the creature I crave.  
In a tight, short,  black skirt, lean and clean,  
she bends clutching her purse, a shadowed wave.  
Her curves whisper beneath taut seams,  
a silent call my eyes can’t refuse.  
From ankle to chest, a waking dream,  
lost in the lines I’m hungry to lose.  

A breeze stirs softly, sweet as a sigh,  
lifting my dress to reveal bare thigh.  
The slit, too high for daylight’s grace,  
exposes my skin, my secret place.  
I shift, I sway—a wordless plea,  
hoping she sees, hoping she feels like me.  

Our heels tap time, a rhythm shared,  
toward the steel tower where we disappear.  
Her scent—lavender, earth, fresh rain—  
fills my lungs, a soft, sharp pain.  
Lush dark wet red lips, a Cabernet wine,  
match her fiery hair, almost divine.  

At the elevator, I hold back, let her pass,  
and she slips to the wall, against the glass.  
I step in close, her warmth aligned,  
my shoulders brush hers, a pulse I find.  
Her firm chest pierces my silk, heat alive beneath,  
a silent pulse, a bittersweet wreath.  

In mirrored walls, our glances catch,  
a chase of shadows we barely match.  
Each look a spark, a forbidden flame,  
a touch reflected, wet lips without name.  
Our breath held tight, a stolen light,  
heartbeats quickening out of sight.  

The car begins; I graze her hand,  
our fingers tremble, a silent demand.  
Through sheer white silk blouse, my desires unveiled,  
her eyes linger where warmth exhaled.  
A sigh escapes, her fingers slide,  
a fire unspoken we cannot hide.  

Silence. The doors sigh open, she's gone, a trace—  
cold stale air rushes in, fills her empty place.  
Tears ***** my eyes, the sharp, sweet sting  
of a shadowed dream that can’t take wing.  
Tomorrow awaits, another city, another stage,  
but her touch remains, a ghost on the page—  
a nameless memory, forever replayed.
Lizzie Bevis Nov 2
In peaceful sleep,
the night unfolds,  
into a swirl colour,
a sight to behold
as waves of light like whispers trace,
guide my heart to a secret place,
up to crystal stars in dark velvet skies,
which scatter wishes that softly rise.

My visions soar,  
in slumber's dance,
I seek for more
in my restful trance,
as mirrored reflections of distant lands,
take shape in my unseen busy hands.
Planting blooming flowers under twilight's breath,
painting the night in colours of vivid depth.

Each step a melody,
a dream unspun,
I wander softly,
as time comes undone
and with every dawn, my dreams take flight
through the serene darkness, chasing light.
Like floating lanterns, these dreams ascend, illuminating paths that I never want to end.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Next page