#mary
gigabyte poetry
a full mouthful
chewing light years
swallowing decades
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 5:16 AM UTC
It’s the quiet ones
the ones who weep
the ones who listen
the ones who watch
the ones who question
the ones who plan
the ones who rise early
and who stay,
who see His glory.
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 5:10 AM UTC
When life itself is punishment, how do you go on living?
All I have wanted was to give my heart to another
To let that spark that jolted me awake
Back out into the world
But who would dare look at the monster
And think there is a soul?
Like the fire released by Prometheus,
I was blamed for the destruction I did not cause
Became a cautionary tale told by false gods
When I was simply trying to be the light in the shadows
With time as my only companion,
I have seen villages ironed out into cities
More blood shed by men than by ravenous beasts
Met by betrayal and torment time and time again
But despite it all, I have also seen
God in the kindness of other outsiders
Beauty in the purity and chaos of nature
And wisdom in solitude
That make the days somewhat bearable
But what is eternity when the cost is being alone?
All I have to keep me going
Is that there is hope with every sunrise
And purpose in suffering
That there is an end to this coming
But like Atlas, I am cursed
To carry this burden on my own
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 12:03 PM UTC
Why is it always about Jesus' Suffering and God's Sacrifice?
Where is Mary?
Where is the woman whose reward for goodness and virtue was to have her baby boy tortured and killed as a warning?
Do you think Mary the ****** Mary the Mother, Mary the human ever regretted being good enough to earn attention of her God?
Do you think she ever quietly, privately, resented her faith?
Cursed her fate to be raised on a pedestal, carved into history as beautiful, weeping, covered in gold, cradling the body of her child?
How would she feel today, to step into a church and see above the pulpit, larger than life, the glossy painted likeness of her boy, thin and bleeding, looking to the heavens to a Father who would not spare him?
Was it terrible for Mary? Did she hate her God, in the end? Or did she stand tall to the last breath, a reluctant but obedient witness, faithful despite everything?
Was as she ever torn between her faith and her heart? Her love and her fear? The choice between loss or betrayal?
It would be terrible if she was in torment, but would be terrible if she wasn't.
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 9:16 PM UTC
Insolent girl
Wicked girl
How stupid and silly you are!
Don’t talk back to me girl
Turn your back to me girl
It is I who chooses when to look from behind.
She’s a Harlet, a *****
A temptress, scarlet rag.
With no clothes, no prows,
No ears, nor rose,
what man would grant you his horse?
You went away, you played
You stole then stayed
And now with your fellows
you swing on the gallows stage.
Oh Mary what have you done?
Look upon the faces of those you took from,
And followers, boys, so young.
So short is life’s string
No more song will you sing
Just dancing in the company of crows.
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 4:24 AM UTC
May is the month of Mary
May is the month of love
May is the month of all flowers
May is the month of all Mothers.
Let's celebrate all Mothers
Those who are poor and are living in huts
Those who are rich with fake eyelids
Those who are small with high heels
Those who are lofty in a giant pair of trousers
Those who are educated, stylish and sophisticated
Those who live sadly in the street corners
Those who worship the ****** Mary
Those who mourn, pray and smile.
May is the month of Mary
May is the month of love
May is the month of Mothers
May is the month of all flowers.
Let's celebrate All Moms
Those who bathe in the pond of misery
Those who wander hopelessly the streets
Those who are discouraged and disappointed
Those who toil every day
Those who practice love
Those who need to be rescued
Those who mimic the styles of Mary
Those who kneel, sing and laugh.
May is the month of Mary
May is the month of love
May is the month of all Moms
May is the month of the all mums.
Copyright © May,2016 Logerie Hébert, All rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 11:51 AM UTC
Today, Catholics celebrate the Presentation of Mary (by her parents to the church). In the days of old, the church was the primary medium of education and, in some cases, parents would dedicate their first born to the church as a sort of tithe giving back to God in gratitude for the first fruits of their blessings.
When we are young our parents took us and presented us to the church, and we are placed in the care of wise men and women to be taught and brought up in the life and the way and the truth. This is in hopes that we would grow in wisdom and age and favor before both God and man. When we are a little older, we can choose to present ourselves before the Lord and confess by our lips and our actions that we believe and serve. We take ownership of our faith. It is not simply our parents' faith anymore.
The presentation is an offering, a sacrifice, a return in gratitude of blessings. Let us, then, come daily before the Lord Our God and present ourselves to Him, to thank Him, to offer Him all our joys and sorrows, blessings, temptations, work and play. Let us begin by presenting Him with our day.
What would happen if WE would rededicate our hearts, our days, and our lives to Christ our Lord? Doing it can't make things any worse than they are by not doing it. So why not give it a shot?
Feb 4, 2025
Feb 4, 2025 at 10:03 PM UTC
A Berlin monastic church of blood
shed by true witnesses to freedom’s love:
These few who stood against the flood
of hate from tyrants they rebuffed.
Not far from here, these martyrs were killed
for facing down the brownshirts’ might,
in hopes that all would someday be filled
with the will to live for love’s delight.
Here Mary sits with her holy child,
carved of warm wood, set on cold stone.
She bears an expression, calm and mild,
with nothing around them: alone.
Her robes are daubed in palest blue
while her hair with a golden crown is wed;
her baby son wears redder hues
that foreshadow blood he and his martyrs shed.
This blessèd Mary’s calm defies the fear
decreed by despots in past and present years —
Softly, she whispers her granite will: Defy
all tyranny ’til hate’s tides subside.
Feb 2, 2025
Feb 2, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
In a cathedral of stone, stark and white,
with a lone statue from long before.
It stands in a niche, with a soft spotlight
shining on its medieval decor.
A ****** Mary, with her Mona Lisa smile,
looks down from her pedestal high.
In quiet, I stand and gaze at her for a while.
Did I just hear her audibly sigh?
Her gilded robes are weathered, cracked,
the once bright paint’s faded and spare,
many scars made plain by shadows cast
by a red circle of candles lit by prayers.
What crises has this scarred Mary seen?
Her sighs echo ours: This statue’s hallowed
by the pains the prayerful to her bring.
I hail thee, marred Mary, full of our sorrows.
Jan 19, 2025
Jan 19, 2025 at 11:02 AM UTC
Cloud of witnesses, champions of the faith
Warriors of prayer on our behalf
As we are sitting in the most holy walls
The song of salvation echoes in these halls
Such wonder I can hardly take it in
And now I stop so You can truly begin
Oh Mother Most Holy, Oh Mother Divine
To my prayers and petitions thine ear incline
Strengthen me in my weakness
In my darkness shine your light
In your graces ever flowing
Grant a heart of peaceful knowing
Though I am small, I need not be afraid
For great is the work they hands have made
Who am I that my Lord would choose me
So that I might become his blessed sanctuary
Lift high the Cross of Christ: your sword
Gird your waist with the shield of faith
Bind the devil with Heaven's holy cord
The most holy Rosary, Mary's great grace
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 8:30 PM UTC
Hail Mary, full of grace
Wipe the tears from this ***** face
A sick hallucination, born of desperation
Begging for comfort from an unloving mother
Eager to please, a living disease
Holy Mary, ask God to have mercy on me.
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 1:37 PM UTC
Why must they take my Lord from me?
Why, oh why, can they not see
What it is they have really done?
They have killed God's only son.
I know he came to suffer and die
But I hold him in my arms, and I cry:
"Abba, my father, why must this be true
For Jesus, he was my son too.
Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.
Father, my father, if only they knew"
Let these tears that fall be as sweet perfume
As I lay our son in a borrowed tomb
Father, my father, cleanse them from their sin
Father, I beg you, don't let Satan win.
In my heart I knew this day would come,
But part of me, to this fact, was numb.
I am pierced by sorrow so deep and wide
Your cousin and I alone stand at your side.
My heart is broken on the altar of love
As my tears mix with the rain from above.
In an instant, I would trade my life for his.
I would die so that he might live.
But may it be done according to Your Will
You were my God, and you are still
My faith remains steadfast even in this darkest night
I believe that we will once again see your Holy Light
Amen
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 9:53 PM UTC
There is nothing greater than a mother's love
I'll move mountains, move heaven and earth
To comfort you and lift you up
To be there for you night and day
And if you are lost it will help you find your way
There is nothing fiercer than a mother's love
They'd do anything to keep their little one safe
They dry your tears and calm your fears
They hold you tight and make things alright
They share your joy and suffering
And they softly sing while you sleep
A song of love, asking the angels to watch and keep you safe
Till the light breaks forth in the eastern sky
To bathe the whole world in its soft yellow dye
There is nothing stronger than a mother's love
They are there when you need to sit in silence
Leave the door open and they will be with you
They know just what to say, they know your every need
They nurture and care and raise you up from the smallest seed
Until one day you bloom and grow beautiful strong and tall
You bring joy to their hearts every time you call
They love to listen, they give sage advice
A little of our time is their only price
There is nothing greater than a mother's love
There is nothing sweeter or more fine
There is nothing better than a mother's hug
And, somehow, they seem to have God's direct line
There is nothing greater than a mother's love
And none so great or perfect as our Heavenly Mother
She is the ladder between heaven and earth
For God became man through divine birth
How great was her love for her son
How great is her love for all of us
And nothing is greater that our mother's love
Lord, thank you for mothers. Our earthly mothers and our mother in heaven. They are such a blessing. You knew that as lost children, we would need a mother to care for us, to lead us and teach us. Thank you for our mothers, Lord. Help us to respect, cherish and honor them always and may we be a blessing to our mothers even as they have blessed us. We pray for those who are still with us and those who have gone before us to pray and intercede on our behalf. Mothers have a special place in your heart Oh Lord. Keep us close to yours. Amen
Nov 27, 2024
Nov 27, 2024 at 9:44 PM UTC
No matter what, in our lives, we do
Everything is better when I work with you
He created us to be together, created us to share
In His Glory and feel his presence everywhere
On our own, we try to create a song, a work of art
It's simple and awkward, but filled with such heart
We were not supposed to go it alone
But as iron sharpens iron to help and hone
We try to do the will of God
We try to hear what He is saying
Our attempts are small and feeble at best
But he sees us and quietly he smiles and nods
He whispers in our ear "Don't stop. Keep playing"
And transforms our sad solo into a divine duet
When we find ourselves taken by bitter sorrow
When we don't know if the sun will rise tomorrow
When we drink with Jesus the cup of suffering
When we think about his blood that is covering
When we recall the seven sorrows of Mary
And how, her son's lifeless body, she would carry
Midwives used myrrh against pain in childbirth
Mary, of all women, knew how much it is worth
Her very name is from Myrrh: meaning bitter
And through it all she wasn't a quitter
It is costly and rare, signifying suffering and death
But it is also used to prepare and purify
The bodies of those who had died
She shares our sorrows, and she dries our tears
She listens and prays for us; she understands our fears
We can run to our mother and be safe in her arms
To find healing and peace away from all that harms
She knows the value of suffering
And she knows just what it cost
A gift of love transcending everything
Her son hung on a rugged cross
Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death
Through our suffering, prepare our hearts and purify
That we might be an acceptable offering to God when we die
Take us back home to Heaven where we belong
When we are together, we are better; we are strong
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 8:47 PM UTC
Mary, a name, not just a whisper,
But a haunting echo of a wrong,
An imprint left by years of scorn,
Borne on the breath of regret and sorrow.
Mary, the syllables heavy,
Each letter a shackle to history,
Carrying the weight of unspoken grudges,
Of mistakes and broken promises.
The eyes that once shone with innocent hope,
Now dulled by the tarnish of disdain,
Mary—each mention a scrape of bitterness,
A reminder of all that’s been lost.
In the hollow spaces where your name lingers,
The silence screams louder than words,
Regret twisting like thorns around the memory,
Sadness pooling where love once dared to tread.
Mary, an echo of a choice not taken,
A ghost in the mirror of faded dreams,
You bear the brunt of every forgotten apology,
A name suffused with the agony of the past.
In the rooms where once was laughter,
Now only the hollow chime of contempt,
Mary—crushed beneath the weight of expectations,
A symbol of what might have been.
Forgive us, for we know not the damage,
The cruel irony of naming, the sharp sting,
Of turning beauty into a battlefield,
Where every utterance is a scar.
Mary, cursed with the burden
Of an inheritance you never sought,
Your name, a shadow of what was lost,
A testament to the bitterness we carry.
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 12:25 PM UTC
On a church, Mother Mary gazes up high
with her saving babe on her stone arm.
On her alabaster face: a cryptic smile
that has its own fine chiseled charm.
While I stand in the old town’s cobblestone street,
my mind sees me in a far distant place.
The visions I see speak of defeat,
a void that devours all grace.
I see myself floating in a brittle wood boat
with sails torn to shreds by the storms.
Frantically I toil to stay afloat,
tossed by black waves which ebb and reform.
Her disk halo of gold shines out in the dark,
glinting to those who sail by.
I ask her: tell me what can give me a spark
to let me soar up into the sky.
She offers no answer in so many words
and just smiles on, stonily serene.
In her silence is where her answer is heard,
a quiet reply — I know just what she means.
The rock of her tells me what I must hear:
No need to soar nor fly nor flee.
Let black tides flow past me ‘til they clear.
Like this old pale statue, just simply be.
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 5:51 AM UTC
Agèd lady sits,
holding her silver and gold —
Anne, Mary, the Son
Anne’s daughter’s the moon,
sits on the throne of wisdom —
crowned in golden stars
Moon begets the Son
who’s fathered by breath of flame —
Both pierced by a spear
Two women, one son —
A motherly trinity
that shines in splendor
Nov 3, 2024
Nov 3, 2024 at 1:53 PM UTC
Hail Mary; most holy Queen of Heaven
Overshadowed by love's pure expression
Crowned with glory like the shining sun
Great mother of Jesus; the Most High one
Clothed in robes made from a sea of stars
You held the hands that bore the scars
Queen of the angels and of the saints
What stellar beauty Our Lady paints
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 9:15 PM UTC
Holy Mary crowned with glory
Bright shining as the sun
Queen of Mercy and of love
You crush the evil one
We are in your tenderness
In your kindness and endless grace
We are your children who you love to bless
And wrap with sweetest embrace
Gentle woman, blessed mother
Obedient to Our Father's will
Your faith in God was like no other
And that courage inspires still
Taken wholly up to Heaven
When this life on earth was through
Now we ask your intercession,
Pray for us in all we say and do
Dear mother by virtue of the union
Lead us to your son our Lord
That we too may live in communion
In that Life and Love outpoured
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 9:10 PM UTC
Mother of Mercy, channel of Grace
Wrap our hearts in thine embrace
Fount of Love and joyful giver
Bathe us in thy cleansing river
Help our hearts be as new fallen snow
And aid us so our holiness might grow
Pray to Jesus for us poor sinners
Open our hearts as we read the scriptures
May we show mercy to others
Treating all as sisters and brothers
Oh, source of help in our time of need
Hear us Oh Holy Mother and intercede
Help us each to pause, ponder, and reflect
On the moments of our lives in retrospect
To learn from, to cherish and to hold
To warm us when we are in the cold
Mother of Mercy grant us your peace
May our love for thee ever increase
Through the merits of thy maternal love
May it, now and always, ever be enough
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 10:25 PM UTC
In the ancient Gothic church
Mother Mary whispers here;
Her stony face looks out at me,
blank eyes that shed a granite tear:
There beneath her warming cloak
a mass of children huddle there,
seeking shelter and maternal love —
their fears and pains that she will bear
are lit by a sea of candlelight
that lifts cares hence, way up high,
borne aloft away from here,
to dissipate in distant skies
Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 4:32 AM UTC
O mother of the Saviour of the world,
Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
And God himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And he that dy'd and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.
The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.
Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be done.
Apr 1, 2024
Apr 1, 2024 at 3:10 PM UTC
Striving in fear
or living in favour
Feeling the dread
or hearing the angel
Dec 12, 2022
Dec 12, 2022 at 2:42 PM UTC
I think I found myself lost, maybe.
You're just a girl...yes a lady.
You just were around me and
I felt the hairs stand on end.
Heart beating quickly.
I the pretty dolled up one,
I lost all my self control
I said I loved you and...
Why? You for such a simple cute girl, a lady,
"Not in blue-dressed in pink,"
Could have such huge boyish brown eyes,
Yours was short raven hair, "or like a wildcat" I think,
It grows now full all around your sweater.
I am of the impression that I could fall
Into them all, and be swept away a feather.
Yes I fell, I was "mad idiot" and I lost,
Just to a simple short girl,
With colorful beads in lace,
You could hold me in your embrace,
So much where my heart belongs.
And one like lightning could strike me,
Just you...being so very wild...so strong...
May 19, 2022
May 19, 2022 at 3:00 AM UTC