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J'adore le mois de février,
Le mois le plus court et le plus froid de la saison,
Pour toute une série d’étranges raisons.
Et pourtant, on a l'impression que février est le mois le plus long,
Pour les événements qui se produisent au hasard,
Au milieu des tempêtes  perfides et hivernales
Presque tout est gelé et solide près de la nichée
Des aigles américains à tête blanche,
Sauf les masques de Mardi Gras sous les planches.

Février est la saison de l'amour,
Le mois de la Saint Valentin,
Une crique paradisiaque par excellence,
Où les amoureux se réfugient. Pur, immaculé,
Neigeux, court, sombre et charmant ; Février est
Maintenant le mois de célébration de l'histoire des Noirs,
On se demande comment et pourquoi
Nous obtenons le plus court. C'est une autre histoire
Que nous devrions laisser aux mouettes nomades
Pour déchiffrer. Pas de baigneurs sur les plages de sable,
Sauf quelques oiseaux perchés sur les pauvres branches,
**** des berceaux des pygargues à tête blanche.

Février est un mois de contraste kaléidoscopique,
Là où les chutes de neige se produisent d’une façon typique,
Et où les amoureux fous rêvent de chaleur sous un paradis
Plein d’espoir, d’amour, de beauté,  de glace et de pluie.

Copyright © Janvier 2022, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Trinkets Jan 27
expect flaws, be flawed yourself
expect perfection, as something human
every person is but one part

if someone plays your tune, just listen
sing along, ask to dance, bravely
share with them

and you'll know if they are family
or a roller coaster wild experience
memories to treasure
Lorelei T Jan 8
I’m a girl with pages in my hands, 
Lost in worlds that no one understands. 
A hopeless romantic, dreams taking flight, 
In the quiet of dawn, or the soft moonlight. 

Coffee in hand, my soul’s sweet fuel, 
Addicted to wonder, a curious rule. 
I seek connections in the hearts I meet, 
Searching for something that feels complete. 

The world is a book with chapters untold, 
I want to live it, be fearless, be bold. 
Ambition stirs in the depths of my soul, 
But I want to savor the journey—take it slow. 

Life is long, a beautiful song, 
With melodies that carry me along. 
I’ll wander, I’ll wonder, I’ll explore it all, 
For every small moment, I'll answer the call. 

So here I stand, on the edge of it all, 
With wide-open eyes, and a heart that won’t fall. 
I’m young, I’m dreaming, and I know I’ll be free, 
Because in this life, it’s all meant to be.
Sara Barrett Jan 2
You’re considered too wild, they say
a storm that never stops raining,
a flame that burns without end.

You were more to their liking, however.
when your voice was barely a breath,
a shadow pressed against the wall.

They considered your silence graceful.
By hollowing you out—
Confusing stillness with softness,
Your passion for destruction.

Being too much is impossible, isn’t it?
It’s only just begun for them.
Entering your depths slowly.

The reason is that you are the sea.
Deep, rising, and endless.

Allow them to drown.
"Too Much" is a declaration of self-empowerment, a response to those who attempt to silence or diminish the fullness of one's being. Using the imagery of storms, flames, and the sea, the poem explores the tension between being misunderstood and reclaiming one's truth. It is a call to embrace one's passions, depth, and wildness, despite the discomfort it may cause others. The poem speaks to the power of owning one's space in the world and the freedom that comes from shedding the expectations of those who fail to see beyond the surface.
Tears rain, Heaven cries
Men in ghostly array
How celestial dew turn bitter!
What is to come a dismay

Earthly decadence, Withering opulence
Mammal to earthly disorder
How providence turns virulence!!
Untold tale of “no escape” parable

Tears reign, Heaven’s turmoil
Assembly of beings on cross
How the haven to hell subscribe!!!
Home affords no salvation

Hellish magnificence, Exalted tumble
All beings of chaotic order era
Men of hailstorm and fiery delight
Shall destruction be a rhyme.
Oh golden hues
of soft sunlight
you bathe the world
and cast away night

Warming earth
and bark, and leaf
stealing cold
liken to a thief

Would it be that my life
could be spent
in this moment
Words written whilst wild camping in Scotland and waking with the dawn.
neth jones Dec 2024
i will build a yurt            it will satisfy my soul
i will make a short film
i will learn polite society's manner
these things   will satisfy my soul
i will become genuine and plant a bright garden
   and satisfy my soul
i will employ better personal hygiene
   become sexually activated
        and roam the streets aggravated
will i satisfy my soul there ?
raise a flag, have a care ?
i could eat a meal slowly  you know  as an experience
     using mouthfeel skills and detecting it's notes
don’t pay the bill  start a riot  and register to vote
i will - i won't ; do the things
    and rattle my pelt til i am soul sated
neth jones Nov 2024
cackle hack drab dog
outer  to the flames of the campfire
                                                cracklin­g
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