Dreams, new and old dreams, we all dream
We all dream of chocolate and ice cream
We all dream of monsters, bandits and angels
We all dream of good, bad guys and devils
That’s where nightmare comes into play
We all dreams of better days in May
When the temperature is cool, welcoming and warm
Spring fever brings hope, something new and calm
Living is about dreaming for a better and fruitful future
Without defying Mother Nature’s raft and thunder
Don’t stop dreaming
Don’t stop hoping
Don’t quit
Not even a bit
Keep fighting and dreaming for something better
That’s the essence of breathing like a new creature
From time to time, we forget our dreams
For diverse reasons like the summer streams
Wandering in the deep forests in search of the ocean
Which is miles away waiting for a benediction
We all dream. We dream awake or asleep
Simply be careful and prudent while away from the beep
We dream at night and at daytime
We dream and hope as we rhyme.

Copyright © July 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.

The sharp taps of the clock await my silence to break free from my wistful whisper—to never hear it while my eyes are shot open, to find my nerve and trigger it—as the sadness carefully passes through my system. Too far gone to care, leaving me paralyzed in a cold, soft, sinking bed.

It was a momentary piece where my head had the sensation of being stroked like piano keys, where a soft yet disturbing melody filled the place, and I closed my eyes, lulling me to my deep slumber.

There’s that unknown peace where a deep slumber could lead to an eternal doom—where the past, the present, and the future collide together, where everything exists together, whether in a beautiful song that’s pieced together, or loneliness held in thousands of agonies.

One thing is for sure, I have the guts to love the doomsday, and all things are possible because it is the end of May.

The warm May sun
plants kisses my skin
as late spring days
bring new beginnings.

I close my eyes and listen
to busy birds singing
as they build nests with care,
weaving a safe home
for their chicks to share.

I do love the clear May mornings,
when the garden is bejewelled
with dew-kissed leaves
that sparkle when catching the sunlight.

I look at the countryside,
draped in emerald green,
as I watch the breeze rippled fields
create a stunning artist's scene.

I smile as flowers stand waving,
as they greet all who pass
with vibrant cheer,
much to many a humble
bumblebee's delight.

©️Lizzie Bevis

(Phase:1)
You blinked,
My breathe hitched.
Walked across the room,
I swore I was swooned.

You held my hand,
I couldn't even hear the door slam.
Caressed my back,
Uh-oh, cut me some slack.

You like me, you say,
This is my favourite May.
The background blurs, a halo forms 'round you,
I can stick with you like glue.

(Phase:2)
You won't return my texts,
Don't even give any context.
I convince myself, he's just busy,
He is not leaving me, is he?

You yelled at me today,
Left me in decay.
Didn't even care to apologize,
It took me a moment to analyze.

You say, you can't do this anymore,
They all leave, I have kept a score.
You walk away,
Next time, I won't sway.