Looking, out my window,
Watching, the beginning of a new day,
The darkness of night, slowly fades,
As the morning sun rise, lights everything,
In its way, with powerful, warm rays.
The trees on the hill, on the other side,
Of Maxwell’s creek, standing so still,
The temperature around sixty degrees,
Comfortable, just a slight morning chill.
A very peaceful place, nothing but nature,
Trees and grass, no hustle, or constant race,
A special place, for me to write, where, I wrote,
My first, poem/song, still creating, twenty three years later,
A third of this life, my mind drifting, traveling,
Catching special messages in space.

                     The original: Tom Maxwell  ©  6/11/2025 AD

Shady sunshine falls on a bright green hill

Chubby cheeks and ringlet curls

Frolicking around fat squirrels and dandelions

Spinning on a rope swing,
A blurry canopy of trees and laughter

Big smiles make us feel young

So we frolicked and danced

under the sun.

Mychelle, oh sweet Elle,
You are my heart and soul.
Like the mornings with a sweet smell,
And the calm nights with a soft lull.

I am who I am but that’s not it,
I was who I was but it's the past.
Once I changed my name everything fit,
Like somehow I know the sun will always last.

I feel lighter there’s no weight like before,
I no longer have to worry about the finishing blow.
Everything is bright and I feel the warmth once more,
The sun always shines but now I see the soft glow.

All of a sudden
The stars have stopped shining
Blimming sadness in Heaven
Too many babies are maimed and hurt
Too many infants are starving and suffering
Too many women are crying and mourning
And too many men are being sought
For summary executions
Where countless elders of the sad nations
Have disappeared without a trace
The pain is excruciating. What a disgrace!

All of a sudden
The sky has become extremely dark
Flaming chaos in Heaven
The cemetery is in the park
The buildings are bombed and bulldozed
For heaven’s sake, too many soldiers are overdosed
Where ships, vessels, yachts, boats and canoes are sunk
Somewhere is buried a dead skunk
Where everything is comatose and decomposed
No one can honestly envision a bright future
Where nobody can dry the tears of Mother Nature.

The stars have stopped shining
The moon is visibly absent
The sun is on strike and fasting
And the weather is eerily aberrant.

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

there, Moonflower with petals that shine,
with silhouette that whispers divine,
reflection that’s crystalline.

oh! mystic Faerie of the night,
awakened by the spark of daylight.

ethereal Daylight crashed in,
unlike any other rays,
with an unknown expression,
the moonflower fades away.

there, sunflower that’s mellow,
with soft hues of warm yellow,
reflection of a halo.

spotted amidst the meadows,
with life from all sorts of flow.

yet, heo only sees the Sun,
no matter what’s sprung.
it's only the Sun she gazes-

even if the Sun doesn’t return her embrace.