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I adore
And you abhor
I love
And you loathe.

I love you forever
And you loathe me
Regardless of your demeanor
I will always show pity.

I love you with a passion
I adore you with devotion
Love is a panacea, a remedy.

I adore you and you abhor me
I love you and you loathe for no reasons and no grounds
Mind you, karma knows no seasons and no bounds

Copyright © October 2025 Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
I sit on the deck, staring in a trance,
Watching the leaves,
Take their last dance.

They twist and turn, as they fall to the ground,
They always land, so gently,
And never bounce, up and down.

Some hang on to the trees, their beauty so bright,
They show their true colors,
As our days, grow longer at night.

They have all turned red, yellow, gold, or brown,
As the wind blows through, they fall,
One by one, down to the ground.

They give us shade, from the suns bright rays,
They even break the wind,
On  a breezy summer day.

They are all so different, in shapes and sizes,
They even show their shadows,
When the moon light rises,

They only stay with us for one growing season,
So much beauty, in such a short time,
Colorful memories, pictures in our mind.

It's amazing how fast we forget, the beauty they gave,
For we all have choice words,
As we rake them away.


The original Tom Maxwell 12/13/2002 AD
From the first year, I started writing, still one of my favorites,
I've been writing 23 years
And so, he waited.

He waited for so long. He waited through the seasons. He waited through the heartbreak and loneliness. He waited despite the anger and silence. He waited for a word or sign. He waited even when the times were kind and hopeful. He waited every holiday and birthday. He waited when it hits the hardest. He waited even when he felt healed. He waited even when it's not deserved.

He waited.
After all this time - he still waits for you.
shiver
woollen scarf black
earth in cold dreamland sleeps
brooding we strengthen barriers
wild winds
<~>
awake !
yolk bursts a beak
faint gardenia sweet
freshly cut grass, lips open wide
buds sleek
<~>
bright blue
cool linen new
litchi ice-cream dripping down throat
sun laughs loud
hot lot
<~>
mellow
maturation
cinnamon floats woody
musky flesh loamy depths spice-wise
mushrooms
<~>
cycles
forever turn
seasons speak singularly
winter spring summer autumn rings
bring zings
<~~~~~~~>
This poem is written in the cinquain form
Penny Silva Oct 6
The deadly air of autumn’s blow,
Empowered winter’s cold to flow,
But spring’s warmness began to grow,
Releasing summer’s smoothing glow.


It started out as a mer gaze,
Bringing my lonely heart ablaze,
We were lost in a lovely maze,
Surviving the long autumn days.

Can we handle the freezing cold?
The one that wraps us close and hold
Unto each other like glimmering gold.
As time stops, turning us into winter’s mold.

We slit in half, when spring arrived,
As I believed love was thrived.
I felt you had my heart revived,
But it was clear you were contrived.

Now summer begins to boil down,
I can see all your endless frown.
You indeed fooled me like a clown,
So I watch our affair slip, drown.


Summer was to bring us together,
But spring showed we are light as feather.
In winter we were twined with tether,
Did you enjoyed autumn’s weather?
You can’t make someone love you,
Just like leaves don’t beg to fall,
Flowers won’t bloom in summer’s heat,
Nor beneath ice and snow,
Love, like seasons, comes and goes
A natural time we cannot own.
5/10/25
First draft- 29/9/25
Jasper Oct 4
Pain
is hard as an gem. As special,
as colory. Pain makes you think
one more thing and it will all
be gone. Pain makes you sink -
while the sky threatens a hole
in your sanity. But my diamond
anchor and its tricks  - I've
grown attached. I don't care,
much longer anymore, I don't
cling to the betrayal in sheep's
clothing. I'm a grown man,
and I'm finally ready to say
I don't care about suffering.
I don't care how much I'm worth
in its eyes, I'm sick of it trying
to force itself into my palm.
There was a time, when I would've
looked upon such a pallid shadow
with absolute reverence in my eyes  -
I left the child by the door. These hours,
I forget and beg to remember, why,
why, dear God. Because this  -
is life, suffering. I ask a question,
whose remembrance lies in the depths
of unheard silence. I ask a question  -
whose answer is a leaf of autumn.
"I left the child by the door" is a reference to the poem by William A Gibson "I left the boy." It just felt like the right line to use.
Reece Sep 29
The sun was always brighter,
The sky, an endless tapestry,
The world’s hidden beauties,
Amplified in her dreams.

The crunch of fall under her feet,
As she jumped into a pile of leaves.
In a moment, the world was covered in snow, and she,
Smiled blissfully.
Springtime flowers bloomed,
The world covered in hues,
She saw good ol’ Mother Goose,
From the nursery rhymes she recalled when she was two.
She felt free,
In her dreams.

Adventure called from all around,
Knight’s boots clanking on the ground,
An ever-changing battleground,
Filled with overwhelming sounds.
Sometimes, the duels were in space,
Others, it was just a simple race.
Occasionally, she’d lose just for fun.
What does it hurt to mix it up?
After all, she was the god of her own world,
In her dreams.

The worlds she created,
Almost seemed real.
But dreams, consistently,
Have the same fictitious security,
That can distinguish whether it's fake.
She remembered when she was younger,
And she longed for endless dreams.
She wanted them to cross over,
An ambitious endeavor,
Now she longed to see the real sun.

In her dreams,
She’d wake up.
No more sleeping blissfully,
She needed to see the world again.
Look her mom in the eye,
And apologize for the accident.
If she were still alive,
She’d pray she hadn’t perished yet.

Her mother dreamed,
That her daughter awoke.
So, she drove to the hospital,
And watched as her heart broke.
She remained,
Comatose,
Her brain unstable,
And her heart rate growing low.
All because of teenage love,
Kissing blissfully and driving drunk,
Leading, inevitably to pain and suffering,
To all parties.
The man she was with,
Was already dead,
She’d be lucky,
If she lived.
She feared,
About all she’d miss.

How she found herself longing for the mundane,
If it meant she would receive one more day.
She’d never touch a bottle again,
And she’d leave her toxic friends.
How she wanted to brush her teeth,
The simple notion inviting reprieve.
Her mother’s pancakes were divine,
She wanted to devour them one last time.
She couldn’t believe she’d been so foolish,
To throw it all away.
She’d make sure to be more careful,
Till her final days.

Life seemed to be a blissful reality,
One that she’d trade anything to see,
All of its intricacies,
She wished she could take back everything,
In her dreams.
A darker poem, but one I've written for a competition. Tell me what you think!
P.S. Thanks for the support as of late! :)
Ric Sep 28
Four months have come and gone
The axis of the earth has shifted twice since you left
Autumn ended
Winter dragged its bones across my door
And now, today, it is the first day of spring
It is 21 September 2025

I thought I would be healed by now
But I am still speaking your name in silence
The tears come and go
And my love remains

I miss you so
And you will never know
In the dead of night I scream your name
I am the only one of us still carrying this pain

Every day
I fight the urge to call you
To text you
To tell you that I still care
To tell you that I love you
She left 27 May 2025. Three seasons.  Four months.  Thousands of tears.
dead tree limbs
peer into a lake mirror
hoping for one more spring

gray clouds smudge
the water with prayer
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