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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.
Crookedkg Jan 25
Life feels like a boulder rolling down a hill and I am running away from it. I can’t escape it because the road is too narrow with a cliff on each side, so avoiding the path the boulder is taking is impossible. I just have to keep on running, keep on going. I am barely hanging on. The boulder is almost getting me and I am about to be crushed. Because I have run out of power. I have got no energy left in me.
Elijah Hewson Jan 25
I find myself falling for the same person, with a different face.
Its quite the troubling case.
"If the face is new why must i pace-
Pace back and forth in self disgrace"
I pace because although she is new in face,
A change in her intentions i have no faith.
For another heartbreak has no place,
In the remains of my heart held by a lace.
So i bludgen my feelings with little grace,
Because i dare not fall flat again... on my face.
About poem:
This poem is about the struggle i find in falling for the same type of people who only want superficial short lived love, compared to the long lasting love i long for.

My rhyming phoneme: /fæ/ & /æç/
Rick Jan 24
all that pain
and belittlement
you served me
day and night
when no one
was looking
made the little
man within you
feel much, much,
much bigger
but now you
stand before me
weeping
with no teeth
and the big man
within me
has forgiven you.
Níla Jan 26
I yawn way too loud
And the dishes wait for me
There's a new pimple on my face
And why's my hair so **** greasy
There's ice cream in the freezer
I thought you'd kiss me hello
But you're stuck on your phone
Before you're out to have a smoke
I'm good to bend over
Though I thought I'd told you no
If anyone asked I only put on a show
You told me you love me
Guess you mean having me around
But why are the dishes not done
And do you have to yawn so loud?
Níla Jan 25
And I was used to it
The unsteady moods and sudden attacks
I'd changed into someone who couldn't be hurt
Stopped trying to fix his errors by addressing them first
I'd just never expected to be needing that back
Good I kept all my baggage and never unpacked
karma ch Jan 24
am i worth your while?
can i be your one and only focus
will you be the daddy i've needed since i was a child
why should i ask you to be what you should want to be?

am i too old for attention?
am i too big for affection?
is maturity affliction?
is my reality twisted by my retention?

when you see me i become a different person
am i not silent or feeble enough?
is my exterior too rough, or my interior too tough?
what makes me separate from who i was before
i don't recall changing in those seconds.

you said i was sweet before
more cute and interesting than any other
i'm smart, just as long as i don't stop being normal
and if i look the part, you'll love me evermore?

i can't shrink myself down to quaint size
i can't make my voice an octave higher
if that can't changed to a might
or if it did, you may offer a maybe
i'd drop everything in a second
for a chance to be your baby.
strangers - ethel cain
karma ch Jan 24
once trapped in between metal and wood, the mouse forfeits its life to the higher power
for its own foolishness and yearning for livelihood led it to the clamping jaws of death
the mischief goes without mourning, for deadweight is doomed to the side of the road regardless.
the tiny mouth of a mouse can only squeak so loudly, but the sound is drowned out by the snapping of its fragile bones like a branch of a tree falling
this is an infinite purgatory
rodents aren't reborn, and will always be invaluable to all species but themselves.
everything dies, but the hungry are murdered.

i rest in the corner of a cubic room, stuck in my fate.
i wish not for the best of life, or for a new one afterword
i know my valueless existence will be replaced down the line.
the days flash by and what is left of me is rot, clinging to the bones that make me the weak and deformed being i am.
people would save me if i wasn't a bottom feeder.
a perfect puppy, full of life and joy.
maybe just a bird, wing snagged by a predator whilst trying to ****** food.
i'm not ugly, am i?
am i not worth companionship?
i'm not even worth the food i find for my family.
the world was mine once.
to be free to wander again, without having to worry about being fooled or trapped.
i should be too young to die, but i'm too clever to live.
sun bleached flies - ethel cain
Norbert Tasev Jan 24
Now it is resounding again, the spit-out, wild brutal romanticism, which is what many brainwashed, nameless persona-CDs, pay-as-you-go kurafi call it, is distasteful. How the hell the distressing self-consciousness spews itself out into the world. "because everything is in vain!" – his basic feeling. The disgraced, poisoned saliva lips of prostitutes cite everyone to the meat processor of slaughterhouses.

No one wants to raise their defenseless head from the row of the yellow earth, where they have sinned with zeal, lying to the stars?!

In this upset, grotesque old world, where the insidious herd-herd spirit, arrogant, self-righteous, sole-licking idiots and party-faces sizzle with unanimity, the air hisses ferociously. – They are dishonored, destroyed, just like benevolent vagabonds; fake card holders rob each other if they really have to.

Even unarmed, the soul-flame burning on your tender body is more and more ominous and dangerous. Waving shadows strangle each other to their liking in the syrupy darkness. It is still permissible for ecstasy-intoxicated party-celebs who are dully recovering, if destruction builds a permanent nest among the ruins of their existence

The split schizophrenic ego disintegrates into its **** like layers of shells. – The extended waves of murderous silence blur the complexity of self-evident essences. The cosmic Janus face of murderer or victim is already going on. The long-term, general deprivation of the same goals is already the cherished dream-desire at all levels.

The tempers of the Cain brothers are now straining against each other. All of them are lone criminals still hunting themselves in their No Man's Land!
Styles Jan 24
Don’t make a sound, let’s keep it tight,
Going for another round deep in the night.
No stopping now, we’re caught in the flow,
Starting at the bottom, then up we go.

Now she’s on top, like she’s thought of it all,
Commanding the rhythm, answering the call.
Our bodies grind, a primal beat,
Hearts racing fast, locked in the heat.

She rides me hard, no slowing pace,
Pushing me deeper in this endless race.
We **** through the breaks, no stopping, no running,
Her body ignites like she’s truly becoming.

Until she lets go, her essence released,
Her cries a crescendo, the passion increased.
Her ***** running, a flood so pure,
A fever of pleasure, nothing demure.

Round after round, no end in sight,
Two souls entwined in the depth of the night.
Every motion, every ****** so profound,
We’re lost in this dance, until we’re both drowned.
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