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Without your arms
Sometimes I'm lonely ,
Without your lips
My lips get dry,
Without your eyes
I'm feeling cold.

Without your sighs,
Without your voice,
I just hear silent noise..

My thoughts are rebels
Without you,
My words feel meaningless
Because just yesterday
You have slept in my room
And now all that I see is
Emptiness and lack of you.
Allowing myself to miss him. ❤️
It's Val, I talk of Value
Minds off! Well I turned it on
Who won't hide the idle?
Not tough, If Love is just enough

It's Val, or picnic in the valley
Love's gone! Places and gifts are gods
Demands high - higher than processed barley
Want more, less love, money got the odds

It's Val, still don't make it valid
The show off, to make the single feel worse
It's hard! Last year love addicts wish they still had it
But break ups! Las Las! We all need Jesus

It's Val, okay agreed! Valentine
Not wrong, if love is just as strong
As the vibe, the time when hearts melt fine
When this poetic voice is as suiting as a love song
Should Love or Val lead?
Or both when we make Val valid?!
The market crashed in my eyes – I can't afford buying a love that’s
blind. But maybe I’m a fool; and do fools in love, eventually wise
up without having to break apart? A mirage on my lips, making it an
illusion when I sometimes express how I really feel. Love’s decisions
so deep in your eyes; can be varying, but also along the lines of being
beautifully deceiving.

While waiting patiently under the moss; lacking the true roots to dig
deeper for the nourishment of love – oversaturated; growing in damp
habitats, and still trying to pretend being grass. To pretend love…
is it not a sin?

Some look for comfort in skin, other’s skin is the momentary comfort
to a nightly lover. When you hide yourself under their covers, do you
not know that we still see the shape of your shame – two bodies that
shake when they're in trouble.


I pray as a witness, that those who are in love, fully bare the weight
of love – the good, the bad, and hidden ugly. But more importantly,
that they bare the weight together; looking out for each other.
Mmm, you're so sweet,
You care so much,
I love that.

You start my day off right,
I am honored by you,
More than the Black Night.
Much better than a cup of coffee.
Archer Jan 31
Little petals fell from the tree above us;
their paths were so long they were narrow and so unpredictable they had to have been predetermined.
An invisible breeze traveled through our hands, heads, and hearts.

I looked to my lover on the left of me.
The teal and yellow sky behind her,
paired with the little pink flowers just out of focus casted a speckled shadow on her face.
Her eyes conveyed sadness
but smile held strong.
Cigarette burns were pressed onto her flushed skin.
It was warm but she wore a black cardigan
with a feathery collared shirt below it.

I stopped singing years ago,
she chirped up.
Her words did not address me
and neither did her gaze;
both floated on the wind just the same as the petals did.
I don’t cut it,
lies,
my notes crack,
I can’t sing as high as I should,
even in church I’d fear I might just stumble like a clumsy fool.


Still,
sure as ever,
her voice carried a sweet melody that ran their fingers through my hair while they swam in the wind.
Each vowel held a hidden harmony.

Really, there’s nothing to it-
that’s what they say.
The rhymes and rhythm were all out of place, but I stayed,

her throat grew firm, yet full of cheer forevermore,
Until I didn’t.

She turned to face me but something stopped her.
Perhaps the wind,
perhaps herself.
I suppose I must’ve stopped once you’d gone.
Her bronze hair shook on her head and she pulled her legs up,
creating small waves in the grass
just as her voice had.
Words didn’t mean the same, neither did any music I could share.
‘Pity,’
they’d say,
‘such a beautifully sad thing that you gave up,’ they’d say.
And I do think it true,

admitted she whilst resting
her arms atop her knees,
chin atop her arms, and
head atop her chin.
I did,
she strained her words as soft as syrup,
give up.
Her back moved to and fro’, pressing against the bark of the apple tree
then not,
then pressed,
then not.
What is an artist without drive?
A singer, when she can’t hear her own music?


Pity,
said I,
such a beautifully sad thing you don’t recognize yourself.
My head shook like the branches above.
What a smith you are, love.
You say your voice cracks,
yet each pitch it jumps onto is more delicate than the last.
You claim inability to reach the top,
but you can sing for yourself.

My lover’s velvet covered legs pulled closer to her chest and she lifted her eyes to listen.
I’m not necessary for your song.

What, pray tell, do you mean, love?

I reckon you never did stop singing.
Graeme Feb 1
Goodbye to a part of you;
Not all, as we remain entwined.
Decided to stay friends one day,
Which cut off a choking vine.

This vine, we called it romance,
And intimate contact.
We loved parts of one another, but not enough,
And that’s okay, in fact.

I’m proud, friend, that you told me;
I thank you for your trust.
It means we can find someone who we can fully love,
And still hold each other up.

Goodbye to the part of you
That lies open just for me.
Goodbye to a future life and house;
I’ve thrown away my key.

We’ve put away our photos,
Yet treasure the memories.
What we had is over, but not gone;
We honor history, you and me.

You told me if we must ever part,
To first say goodbye.
I will, but will work to never have to,
Because you’re pretty cool, my guy.
Written on 2023-08-20. This is about a transition between two people from romantic lovers to friends, inspired by an experience I had. They valued their relationship very much, and lament that it's over, but celebrate but determined to remain bonded, returning to their roots as best friends and each other's supporters.
Joyeuse fête de la Saint-Valentin, chers amis
C’est le jour où il faut prendre soin les uns des autres
Et où il faut se donner la main
L’amitié compte, l’amour compte
La famille compte, le savoir vivre compte
Les fleurs comptent aussi, frères et sœurs
Ne soyez pas trop en colère
Parce que le ciel n’est pas bleu
Profitons de la rosée du matin
Ne soyez pas trop tristes
Profitons du temps froid et ensoleillé
Il y a de la neige ici et là, mais au coin de la rue
C’est le printemps avec de l’air frais et un bouquet de fleurs
L’amitié compte, l’amour compte
Il y a des étincelles de feu d’amour dans l’air
Profitons de la saison de l’amour, de la paix et des soins
C’est le moment de marcher joyeusement main dans la main
Ensemble nous nous promènerons, ensemble nous nous lèverons.

P.S. Traduction de «  Joyous St. Valentine’s Day » par Hébert Logerie.
Ce poème est dédié à tous les amoureux du monde.
Copyright © Janvier 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Feliz dia dos namorados, amigos
É dia de cuidar uns dos outros
E dar as mãos
A amizade importa, o amor importa
As flores também são importantes, irmãos e irmãs
Por favor, não fique muito zangado
Porque o céu não é azul nem branco
Vamos aproveitar o orvalho da manhã
Por favor, não fique tão triste
Vamos aproveitar o tempo frio e soalheiro
Há neve aqui e ali, mas no canto
É primavera com ar fresco e um ramo de flores
A amizade importa, o amor importa
Há lampejos de fogo de amor no ar
Vamos aproveitar a época de amor, paz e cuidado
É tempo de caminhar felizes de mãos dadas
Juntos caminharemos, juntos permaneceremos de pé.

P.S. Este poema é dedicado a todos os amantes do mundo.
Copyright © Janeiro 2025, Hébert Logerie, Todos os direitos reservados.
Hébert Logerie é autor de várias coletâneas de poemas.
Happy Valentine’s Day, my friends
‘Tis the day to care for each other and to join hands
Friendship matters, love matters
Family matters, good manners matter
And flowers matter too, brothers and sisters
Please do not be too mad
Because the sky is not blue
Let’s enjoy the morning dew
Please do not be too sad
Let’s enjoy the cold sunny weather
There’s snow here and there, but at the corner
Is spring with fresh air and a bundle of flowers
Friendship matters, love matters
There are sparkles of fire of love in the air
Let’s enjoy the season of love, peace and care
‘Tis the moment to walk happily hand in hand
Together we shall stroll, together we shall stand.

P.S. This poem is dedicated to the lovers of the world.
Copyright © January 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Perched high above the world,
Rests the poet bird.
A lost species,
Of the lonesome raven family.
Who stands among the branches,
Of the bald willow tree.

He weeps,
For lovers in London.
Split by chance,
Which took one to the heavens,
And left the other alone on the Earth.
But when his eyes dry,
Again he will fly.
With somber stories,
Tucked between his tear stained beak.
For anyone wondering, the subtitle reads "Sad Bird" in Latin. I wanted to style it after a traditional field journal of animals.
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