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Avici 16h
In the dim corners of an archaic repository
Guarded by shadows and subdued mystery
A nerve cracking tale of emotional misery
A chronicle of unspoken, untold history

The brutal lash of a leather belt
The screams, the echoes, the relentless assaults felt
The horrifying scars, the unbearable welt
Withers my soul, seeing a mother being forcibly knelt

The haunting cries beneath the moon’s cold gaze
A child’s fragile heart, encountering frightened days
The tormenting intuition, the intolerable helplessness
Depicting this insensitive world, how time and tide frays

The hypocrite neighbours with malicious intention
Their hollow candour, veiling a double faced complexion
The depraved society, lost in its superficial attention
The child, gasping for emotional care on the ventilators of affection

The backbiting relatives, feeding on unbidden hospitality
Once in a blue moon, do they emerge in adverse practicality
The mother crying her heart out, even in such criticality
Traumatised, by the unforgivingness of such harsh reality

The translucent mask, leading to intensifying mistreat
Ignorance, structuring a highway of unimaginable deceit
Betrayal, the shift, from friendship to cheat
Mental burnout, draining the child to inevitable defeat

Tribulation getting culminated with every dart
Still the mother, protecting her child with a brave heart
Believing that someday, there will be a cheerful start
Today, that kid stands in front of you, portraying this beautiful art
NaNi 1d
Egypt,
One day you're going to grow up and I’m going to tell you the most important love that exists in my life and it begins with you

I always knew I wanted you
But I didn’t know how much until I had you
I wasn’t planning for you but I wasn’t doing anything to prevent the chance of you
It was almost like my heart knew I needed something , a blessing that would make me cry out to God
A blessing that The world may have thought i wasn’t ready for
Even with fear in my heart knowing I could fail
I wasn’t afraid of this blessing
After hearing your heartbeat, over and over
I knew who you were
You were mine and I was finally going to have you
Even if I had to do it over again i would still choose you
Someone i never knew i needed and someone I will infinitely love & protect

All ways, always
You
Pendant les jours les plus froids de l’hiver fou
Pensez à un printemps divin et rêvez d'un été doux
Pendant les heures les plus dures de la nuit hibernale
Pensez aux fleurs inouïes et rêvez d'un agréable soleil.

La saison arrive, persiste, puis s'enfuit, à l’aide de ses ailes
La vie traverse des événements cycloïdaux comme les abeilles
Comme les rayons d’une lune dansant autour de la Mère Nature
Afin de l'enchanter, de l’enchérir et de l'embrasser très dure.

Au milieu du profond hiver, pensez à un printemps sensationnel
Et rêvez à des jours d'été lumineux, éclatants et exceptionnels
Ne vous sentez jamais sans espoir et pessimistes à propos de rien.

Des meilleures journées et des nuits glorieuses font du bien
Restez positifs, actifs, accueillants et résilients tant que votre tête
Est présente. Pensez et rêvez aux rayons de soleil et de fêtes.

P.S. Traduction de: ‘Thinking Of A Divine’ par Hébert Logerie.

Copyright © Janvier 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
tenet 4d
A Flaming heart was Struck,
The Flame keeps Burning intact,
That keep the world hearth,
Thank you to thy Heart.

Flame the eats the Worldly,
To purify whose worthy.
Shines the endless Light,
No darkness even night.

Light she bear and carry,
She's humble and exemplary.
Ave, Ave, Ave to her,
Hail to the Mother.

Her comes the Light,
So pure it ignite.
Exist from the beginning,
Long live the King.
Raj Gaurav Jan 16
Whispers tell me the tale of my grave,
Withholding the irony that I m still alive,
A piece of blanket is all I crave,
Moulding my sorrows in tearful delight,
I ponder ,that am i walking the same street,
That u paved ,
That went to our destiny , the shrine of the woman
Who died young n brave ,
Where the clock ticked three,
Dawn as it was,
Sand still carving my bare feets,
Merlyn, u r still the best mother
U left me , it was fate
But still in the skies ,
As I look away the moon,
I see stars
To be or not to be alive in the moment ,
Still with the glimmer of hope
That they are with me,
Mother , now no one feeds me here
No one gives me warmth
As we still don't have blankets
Times goes n goes by,
No flesh no bones no eye remains
All remains is your shrine
With me thinking u beneath
Listening to my cries
Mother, u there?
Cause I know you are not
Beneath the stones
Lies a body
Still cold with stiches n knots
I still remember your blue skin
That was never blue
Holding that head
Caressing those hair
And you slept til eternity
Last time u were that close to me
Now As I row my boat in deeds
Full of misery
I see mist
Ceasing my sight
Slowly draining me
To the corner of my mind
I still hate to visit
How can we say that when someone is dead we only feel sorrow it is soo generalized but rather it is a mixture of emotions that erupts in us as we go deep with our thinking
Jordin Jan 15
Mother my mother, the rain to my cover.
Mother my mother, my boat to my rudder.
Mother my mother, bright like the colour.
Mother my mother, your death make me shudder.

Mother my mother, not from the gutter.
Mother my mother, flexi like flubber.
Mother my mother, oh stretch like the rubber.
Mother my mother, oh change like the summer.

Mother my mother, no please don’t suffer.
Mother my mother, no please no bother.
Mother my mother, she's not my lover.
Mother my mother, but boy do I lov er.
As far as I am aware this is one of the first poems I had ever written.
More specifically, It is the second poem I have ever written and the first poem in the phase in which poetry makes itself known to me and begins to take over my life.

The core idea here is the contrast and relationship between the Archetypal / Symbolic / Mother of the Depths and the Biological / Literal / Mother of the Times. As well as containing a kind of quantum fuzziness in which it oscillates, alternates, and dwells in a kind of superposition. The first 3 words in every line reference this via "Mother My Mother".
"My" is a possessive term and so "My Mother" references The Biological / Literal / Mother of the Times.
Whereas "Mother" speaks to The Mother which speaks to The Archetypal / Symbolic / Mother of the Depths.

(WARNING: DEEP DIVE AHEAD)

This poem was in part a way to work through my feelings & a natural response as I did.
I felt this tension between the natural attachment one has for one's mother of the times & the attractive force to going deeper into a relationship with the mother of the depths.
I felt like this attachment was a kind of ******* & my psyche was calling me to reduce the attachment & in doing so I would naturally increase the depth of the relationship with the mother of the depths.

I produced some visuals in accordance with this poem and I think they are quite helpful in speaking to the essence & motivation of the poem.

In the visual, there are 2 boys & two mothers.
One boy & mother are human-like.
The other is spectral & shadow-like.
On the far left stands the mother of the times.
On the far right stands the mother of the depths. The respective boys stand in between the mothers. So moving left to right in a kind of sequence we have The Mother of the Times, The Human-like Boy, The Spectral Shadow-like Boy, and The Mother of the Depths.
Both mothers look on & watch over their children yet the Mother of the Times is far more attached to her children and sometimes detrimentally so. This is suggested in the visual by The Mother of the Times holding her hand out yet her hand is bound to the head of the human-like boy. The Mother of the depths has no such attachment; she watches over & stays behind.

So the poem in a way speaks to the state of attachment which motivated the poem but also perhaps suggests the way the state will change as one reduces attachment & increases connection with the Mother of the Depths.

Thus in a kind of Jungian context, it speaks of "the way of which is to come" and is rather synchronistic given the poems that follow speak of this process of encountering the Woman or Mother of the Depths & Triggering a Renewal or Rebirth of sorts.

(WARNING: DEEPER DIVE AHEAD)

Another point of synchronicity is in terms of this anomalistic day count increase...

So for a while now, maybe 7-8 years or so there has been a continual stream of creative insights. Eventually, I began to organize my creative insights according to what day it was rather than have them all bunched up. At first through the typical way of the calendar date but later through the unique day count relative to how many days I have been on this earth.

I didn't realise it at the time but from the day before this poem came & the day after that day, the count leaped 900 days moving from Day 8099 to Day 9000.

This has only been done once and seems to suggest perhaps a kind of synchronistic phase shift.

Therefore it seems to speak of two times.
There is the old time count which is a number to reflect how many days I have been on this earth.
There is this new time count where it is the same amount of the days but there has been this anomalistic change to the state of the count.

As things progressed I wanted to represent both day counts with a single day count using notation. I thought I could do this via the symbolic specification of the transformation.

Specifically, I thought I could use an Acronym T as a way to speak to this object of under an arbitrary Transformation.

So where Day 8100 is the Day after Day 8099 in the old day count phase and Day 9000 is the Day 8100 in the new day count phase, Day 9000T speaks to both.

So whenever I use the acronym T in this way, at the very least that is what it speaks to. Just think of T as transformation and transformation as in under an arbitrary transformation.

As time went on I later realised that this notation also preserves the symbolic integrity of other day counts.

For instance, take this year 2024.
For each of us each additional year increments 365 days to our count. Now of course we are not all born on the same day and our total count is not the same. Your count might be something and mine might be another.

We can also think about things at the societal scale.

Let's say you have lived 7305 days on earth.
That is 20 years if every year is 365.25 days.
Let's say the sum of those days falls on the last day of the year 2024. You may be 7305 days old but the society you live in is older than that.

If you take it at the start of Western Canon by Candidate of Date of Birth of Homer it is approximately (2024 + 800) * 365.25 = 1,031, 466.

That is just one date for the beginning of civilization. You can get other appropriate dates for when human civilization begins.

The invention of writing is a decent one.
So lets say 3400BC which would be (2024 + 3400) *365.25 = 1,981,116

Or perhaps you want to draw the line further back.

Another good date is the construction of the First Temple given how important Gods were early on in providing the unifying story to bind us into greater numbers.
So let's say 12000 years ago.
So 12024 * 365.25 = 4,391,766

Or say you want to go all the way back to the beginning of **** Sapiens given after all we are a Society of **** Sapiens. Maybe a decent estimate is around 300,000 years ago.
In which 300000 * 365.25 =  109,575,000

So here we have 4 core approximations for the day count of our society relative to the symbolic frame of reference. The Day & The Day after is something like this.
D109575000 & D109575001 (Societal Day Count Via **** Sapien Day Count),
D4391766 & D4391767 (Societal Day Count Via First Temple Day Count),
D1981116 & D1981117 (Societal Day Count Via Invention of Writing Day Count), and
D1031466 & D1031467 (Societal Day Count Via Beginning of Western Canon Via Homer).

Bringing it back into the personal reference sphere:

The oldest Human Being Recorded lifespan is 122 years & 164 days or 44724.5 days or if we round down 44724 days.
So on the last day of that person's life (Jeanne Calment of France) specified or otherwise would sit at D44724 and the next day if she could have gone on would be D44725.

Now obviously you are not 122 years old and so your day count no matter your age is some fraction of that number.

Now suppose we want to preserve the symbolic integrity of the day.
In other words, we don't just want to reduce it to the day count according to a single transformation or frame of reference but the day count abstracted from any single transformation or a day count connected to the set of day counts under the set of transformations.

Like we did above we could speak about this and denote it using an acronym T where at the very least T means Transformation which means under the set of transformations or Under any Transformation.

So Jeanne Calment of France Day Count on her very last day was D44724 but if Jeanne wanted to symbolically preserve the integrity of the day she could speak of it as D44724T.

Which both is:
The Day according to Jeanne Lifespan.
The Day according to Our Society Via Beginning of Western Canon Via Homer.
The Day according to Our Society Via Invention of Writing.
The Day According to Our Society Via construction of the First Temple.
The Day According to Our Society Via Beginning of **** Sapien.
And even more abstract day-counts beyond that.

For instance, even though it is unspecified it is the same day as the day according to the observable universe. Which given its approximate age of 13.8 billion years would make that day 5040.45 billion...
Which is Day 5,040,450,000,000 or something around that. So the Day count for our Universe is D5040450000000 And the Day after is D5040450000001.

So Jeanne simply through the addition of an acronym T which stands for transformation which at the very least Symbolises Under any Transformation and thus preserves the integrity of the day not confined or reduced to a single frame of reference…
Jeanne can symbolically get all this & more from D44724T & D44725T.

This is what I am speaking to when I use the D & the T in my title.
Usually, there is an identified day count associated.
In cases where there is not, I use a parametrised day count using the notation of ?T.

There is another sub-utility to using T at the end here and that is in regards to errors of counting.
For instance, let's say a week has passed.
But on two of the days, I accidentally incremented by 2 instead of 1.
Now the count is offset.
Yet given we have already accounted not just for a transformation but the set of transformations, under that transformation of +2 it is the same day count.

So for me at the very least:
It helps in connecting the day counts when I mess up the counting.
It helps in connecting the day counts regarding the anomalistic increase of 900 days.
It helps in connecting to perspectives beyond my own and connecting to how my day count fits into the larger day counts not to mention making it far easier by not having to use numbers in the millions, billions & even trillions, or more.

This is why despite not being an accepted convention I do & will continue to represent my days with D?T.
It is a more Global way to think about Days & Daycounts.
Throughout the coldest days of the mighty winter
Think of a sweet spring and dream of a mild summer
During the harshest hours of the wintry night
Think of flowers and dream of pleasant sunlight.

Season comes, remains a bit and then flees
Life goes through a circular event like the bees
Like the moonbeams dancing around Mother Earth
In order to enchant, embrace and kiss her to death.

In the midst of deep winter, think of a divine spring
And dream of bright and sultry summer days
Never feel hopeless and pessimistic about anything.

Better days and glorious nights are always ahead
Remain positive and resilient as long as your head
Is present. Think and dream of warmer solar rays.

Copyright © January 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Kaiden Lewis Jan 10
I love you,
So continue to live your life
Without me.
Sometimes it's better to leave them
My mother’s name is lost
to everyone beyond her children.

“She was beautiful.
What was her name?”,
others would say to me  
when shown her image
hanging silently on the wall.

In the chanting of it—their wind
echoes my death back in a cloud
of disinterested kindness
and muttered miseries.
  
They know only their faces,  
the renamed mountains and rivers,
the new language of their exile.

Not that—
she was wind born—
knew her better name.
Steve Page Jan 3
You glance up once again
from the rediscovered photo,
sellotape stained and saved
for this future finding.

You hold me yet again in
the honesty of your peaceful smile,
in that shared perfect moment
catching us all unaware.

But that was just before our fall
into confusion, into the fog
that suddenly enveloped you
and robbed us all completely.

But now you return to mind
and I can return your smile
once again.
This month marked the 5th anniversary our mum's dealth after 3 years of dementia.  We were fortunate enough to have a glorious photo of her about a month before dementia really bit deep. That photo has pride of place in my home.
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