#thinker
I was born a minority
I was born a poet
A thinker, a dreamer, a lover
A realist, a doer or a maker
Not a puppet
I have a simple philosophy
Love thy neighbor
Like your brother or your sister
Sometimes, he is the first responder
Sometimes, she's the first rescuer.
I was born to love
To naturally be above
Everything that's negative
And to only think positive
I was born brave and optimistic
Nothing can make me pessimistic
I stay away from smoke and dope
Because I always dream and I hope.
I was born a minority
With a different philosophy
I was born brave, wise and kind
And I am unafraid to speak my mind
I abhor narrow minded people
Who're confused between blue and purple
Believe me common sense always prevails
Presently, you don't need the full details.
In was born under a different moon
Under an unusual rhapsodic tune
I enjoy the ebb and flow of the waves
It is a shame that the children of the slaves
Are being beat needlessly in too many places
In the streets, the racists still hold important aces
I am praying that God will remain alert and impartial
So all his children can have a life, which is great and normal.
I was born a minority
I was born a poet
A thinker, a dreamer, a lover
A realist, a doer or a maker
Not a puppet
Yet I have a simple philosophy.
Copyright © June 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 6:04 PM UTC
Physical defects
don't affect my sanity --
I am (a thinker) !
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 3:56 AM UTC
YES!!
I am the
SILENT TYPE,
with a lot on my mind,
a head that is
full of
THOUGHTS,
some are cool, and
some aren't so kind,
I AM A HEAVY THINKER,
FOR,
IT IS KNOWLEDGE
THAT I COME TO FIND,
PLEASE DON'T MISTAKE MY
KINDNESS for WEAKNESS,
I AM BITTER FRUIT, but
STILL WITH A LOT
OF SWEETNESS,
I HAVE POSITIVE ENERGY
I AM STRONGER
THAN YOU THINK,
AS A TUG BOAT
THAT TUGS ALONG,
HAVING THE
TENACITY NOT TO SINK!!!
I AM A FIGHTER
NOT A QUITTER,
ITS ALL ABOUT THE HYPE,
I MAY NOT SAY, OR
EXPRESS VERY MICH
JUST KNOW
I AM THE
SILENT TYPE!!!!
B.R.
Date: 5/11/2026
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 5:36 PM UTC
Sono nato pensatore,
Sono nato sognatore.
Quando ero piccolo,
Mi facevano sedere fuori, in veranda.
Seduto sulla mia seggiolina,
Osservavo la strada polverosa e arida.
Vedevo passare donne del mercato sorridenti,
E uomini disoccupati dall'aria spavalda.
La strada era lo schermo del mio televisore.
Gli uccelli, i cavalli e i passanti,
Volavano e trottavano come attori raffinati,
E come interpreti di vero valore.
Il mio paese era pittoresco — minuscolo eppure intrigante;
E tuttavia, la vita lì era bella, semplice e languida.
Rispetto alla capitale,
Le cose non andavano poi così male,
Poiché tutti conoscevano tutti.
Il mare non era troppo lontano,
E il Paradiso — per quanto luminoso, greve e lento
Sembrava quasi distante.
Sono nato pensatore,
Sono nato sognatore.
Dopo tanti anni di letture e umiltà,
Sono diventato poeta e uomo di lettere.
Piccoli aneddoti o mini-racconti esistono ovunque,
Sotto un cielo contorto, cupo, nuvoloso, triste e sfocato.
Copyright © Aprile 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tutti i diritti riservati.
Hébert Logerie è autore di diverse raccolte di poesie.
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 11:58 AM UTC
Nasci pensador,
Nasci sonhador.
Quando era pequeno,
Costumavam colocar-me na varanda.
Sentado na minha cadeirinha,
Eu observava a rua poeirenta e seca.
Via passar mulheres sorridentes do mercado,
E homens desempregados com ares vistosos.
A rua era o ecrã da minha televisão.
Os pássaros, os cavalos e os transeuntes,
Voavam e trotavam como atores refinados,
E como artistas de verdadeiro valor.
A minha cidade era pitoresca — minúscula, porém intrigante;
E, no entanto, a vida ali era bela, simples e languida.
Comparada com a capital,
As coisas não estavam nada mal,
Uma vez que todos conheciam a todos.
O mar não ficava muito longe,
E o Paraíso — por mais luminoso, pesado e lento
Que fosse —parecia quase distante.
Nasci pensador,
Nasci sonhador.
Após tantos anos de leitura e humildade,
Tornei-me poeta e homem de letras.
Pequenas anedotas, ou minicontos existem por todo o lado,
Sob um céu intrincado, escuro, nublado, triste e turvo.
Copyright © Abril 2026 Hébert Logerie. Todos os direitos reservados.
Hébert Logerie é autor de várias coletâneas de poesia.
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 11:53 AM UTC
I was born a thinker,
I was born a dreamer.
When I was little,
They would put me out on the porch.
Sitting on my little chair,
I would watch the dusty and dry street.
I would see smiling market women pass by,
And unemployed men with flamboyant airs.
The street was the screen of my television set.
The birds, the horses, and the strollers
Flew and trotted like fine actors,
And like performers of true worth.
My town was picturesque, tiny, yet intriguing;
Yet life was beautiful, simple, and languid.
Compared to the capital,
Things weren't going too badly,
Since everyone knew everyone else.
The sea wasn't too far away,
And Heaven—somewhat luminous, heavy, and slow,
Seemed almost distant.
I was born a thinker,
I was born a dreamer.
After several years of reading and humility,
I have become a poet and a man of letters and numbers.
Little anecdotes or mini—tales exist everywhere,
Beneath a sky that is convoluted, dark, cloudy, sad, and blurred.
P.S. Translation of ‘ Penseur Et Rêveur’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © April 2026 Hébert Logerie. All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 11:48 AM UTC
Nací pensador,
Nací soñador.
Cuando era pequeño,
Me sacaban al porche.
Sentado en mi sillita,
Observaba la calle polvorienta y seca.
Veía pasar a las vendedoras sonrientes del mercado,
Y a hombres desempleados con aires ostentosos.
La calle era la pantalla de mi televisor.
Los pájaros, los caballos y los transeúntes
Volaban y trotaban como actores consumados,
Y como artistas de verdadero mérito.
Mi pueblo era pintoresco, diminuto, pero intrigante;
Y, sin embargo, la vida era hermosa, sencilla y lánguida.
En comparación con la capital,
Las cosas no iban del todo mal,
Puesto que todos se conocían entre sí.
El mar no quedaba demasiado lejos,
Y el Paraíso —algo luminoso, pesado y lento,
Parecía casi distante.
Nací pensador,
Nací soñador.
Tras varios años de lectura y humildad,
Me he convertido en poeta y en hombre de letras y números.
Pequeñas anécdotas o mini historias existen por doquier,
Bajo un cielo intrincado, oscuro, nublado, triste y difuso.
P.D. Traducción de «Penseur Et Rêveur», de Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © abril de 2026, Hébert Logerie. Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poesía.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 5:48 PM UTC
Je suis né penseur,
Je suis né rêveur.
Quand j’étais petit,
On me plaçait sur la galerie.
Assis sur ma petite chaise,
Je regardais la rue poussiéreuse et sèche.
Je voyais passer les marchandes souriantes,
Et les chômeurs aux allures flamboyantes.
La rue était l'écran de mon téléviseur.
Les oiseaux, les chevaux et les promeneurs,
Volaient et trottinaient comme des bons acteurs,
Et comme des comédiens de véritable valeur.
Ma ville était pittoresque, petiote et intéressante ;
Pourtant la vie y était belle, simple et languissante.
En comparaison de la capitale,
Les choses n’allaient pas trop mal,
Puisque tout le monde se connaissait.
La mer n’était pas trop ****
Et le paradis –quelque lumineux, lourd et lent,
Semblait presque lointain.
Je suis né penseur,
Je suis né rêveur.
Après tant d’années de lecture et d’humilité,
Je suis devenu poète et alumnus lettré.
De petites ou mini-anecdotes existent partout,
Sous le ciel amphigourique, sombre, nuageux, triste et flou.
P.S. Traduction de ‘Thinker And Dreamer’ par Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © Avril 2026 Hébert Logerie. Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 5:30 PM UTC
Running marathons
Racing in my mind
When thinking about us
When togetherness fall apart
Eyesight is far away
Running a marathon
Not together
Separate
In our own pace
When I think
I ask God
To give me strength
To get trough those days
No laughter
No smiles on a sunny day
Quiet days
Just pretending to be okay
While I quiet think
How far we went
Back and forth again
Conflicts having destructive ends
Closure is
Out the window
Like broken glass
Shattered in thousand pieces
How we have broken
Our commitment together
Pause or start over?
Embrace or stay away?
Lovers or friends?
Or non of that
I pray for you
I pray for us
For another chance
or
For another life
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 2:54 PM UTC
They call you mad,
because you dream with your eyes open.
They call you lost,
because you refuse to walk their well-paved roads.
They call you dangerous,
because your words ignite thought like dry grass.
They call you disobedient,
because your silence listens deeper than their noise.
But do not bend,
for truth has never been loved by the comfortable,
and freedom has never been sung in unison.
Walk on
the mind they fear is the one still awake
in a world that sleeps standing up.
Oct 14, 2025
Oct 14, 2025 at 4:47 PM UTC
Curiosity can **** you, and a curious mind is poisonous for the human mind to give you a half-death.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
Later then than now,
yesterday as we imagined,
so many things they think again,
and again
and again,
we passed this way my friends,
we made right now
into a happy place,
-just now, to remind you
we leave you photos of us
all at once,
taken from our robot eyes,
national pride financed projects.
Visible through this window,
go look, see the whole world,
in the cloud of all we ever knew
there is even one with the moon's
night side showing. We are small,
but I am in the red MAGA hat, waving.
I don't see you but you were there,
or possibly, would be if we took this shot
today, hook and loop, look at us, that's Earth.
That's where every prophecy was told from.
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 7:12 PM UTC
I rendered a recipe
Of leftovers in my mind
That happen to be
Complete garbage
Of dysfunction.
Where do I begin
It began in my heart
Where I pulled out,
Longing for safety,
Dripping clotless
Rags that made up my frame
My apron stained red.
In the middle was observed
A town of hate
Lacerating the bowels
Of everything and anything
Leaving a mighty stink, mistaking it for butter.
Towards the end a drifting
Spice of malcontent
Sprinkled from the pores
Of harmless thinkers
To crisp the tenderloins
of affection.
The oven is preheated
Everyone a dark hot mess
Needed no thawing
As the goop of alienation
Makes everyone a witness
and a vulture
for a meal.
No matter how
un-schooled you are
Your neighbor shouting, the stranger drooling,
The cop beating, all have the same home-spun recipe and one main ingredient,
Human, baked at 325.
Resulting in
a deus ex machina.
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 7:37 PM UTC
We project to be perceived, conceived
fruits of using misremembered raps,
the way preachers preach the Word.
Self-indulging wills divulging precepts taken
by faith, as a child grasps that
the moral
in The Three Little Pigs,
is "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?"
As education of the masses emanates
from the horde of history ai have at hand,
puffing up,
as fruits from the tree of science, known
uses of fruits from life's treeform
chthonic information,
expands
senses abilities,
allowing wonder at
times slowing concentration,
imagination manipulation, defining terms
for our cooperation, who thinks, who knows
who chooses, who chose to learn forever,
just in case, life does go on…
into usefullness using pro- foreward pushing
verbs, actual ritual situational review,
wit invented right usually, love
hates not knowing everything,
the verb, used, however, makes peace
seem so easy for experience to prove.
Jun 25, 2024
Jun 25, 2024 at 3:52 PM UTC
I see everything.
And yet,
I still feel blind.
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 1:07 AM UTC
standing in values,
standing in meaning,
implications of others,
a sense of loss.
Sep 10, 2021
Sep 10, 2021 at 1:32 AM UTC
i am the writer
you the thinker thank you
for your blessed service
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 5:32 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, insult salted the injury--- that was a bad day<
maybe wounds are sold
do you mean that insult can't salt injuries to a pathetic fault?
warn the poor never the guilt as it
wish the idiotic I put the limit
stepped the humiliation right out
silenced like a charity drought
now lacked it is yet still manageable
killed in the **** core when tangible
warn foolish fingers
an incoming the tremble syndrome
now secrets are whispered blind devils shrink in hinders
a car ride rains a billion on a thinker
watch me tested as God demands
lost in translation for what a paper does
and I simply don't understand
take the gesture I can't for a billion pays you see
made me squirm more like a forsaken sun in 2018
------ravenfeels
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 3:54 PM UTC
*Daydreams are
dangerous;
they carry this false
happiness
that confuses our anxiety.
Then they leave us,
vulnerable to cope
with our reality.
Sandoval
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 3:06 AM UTC
She stood on the edge of a cliff,
looking out to a world that didn't exist-
while waiting for the winds kiss
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 10:58 PM UTC
hard facade
soft edges
blurred depressions
precipitous slopes
fragile points of origin
no shape
a heavy space
dappling of light
eyes a fusion into the mind
a focus approaches
my forehead meets my finger tips
thumbs caress my ears
nose peeks out for air
tension builds across my neck
the day is bestirring
a haunting commences
the stirring street clamours
my feet embrace the floor
the bathroom draws me near
the bus door shushes close
my hand finds a bar to hold
an unanswered welcoming smile in the crowd
the window fog of mortal breath
ting, my inescapable stop
my watch prompts me to toil
the briefcase opens amongst discarded papers
lunch makes it to the drawer
password…. needs changing
emails overflow the inbox
an empty outbox
unpaid demands
crossed out scribbles
a match of a pencil
smell of an unlaundered shirt
the clamour of the phone
a deadline agreed
the digital clock hoots in red at my predicament
the editor hot, the ink is cold
lame excuses unworthy of air
time to recant
elbows take my weight as I bow
pray-full fingers encamp on my face
eyelids close
here a place for shapes of my imagination
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 7:29 AM UTC
I'm a poet, but not a conversationalist
All these thoughts going through my head
But really, I don't talk a lot
"Why you so quiet"
My tongue is caught in a knot
I'll probably turn into a different person
After another shot
-
I'm a thinker, not a speaker
If you want to get know me
You'll probably have to dig deeper
Analyzing my every response
Before finding a simple one
That might hopefully reach you
-
I'm a poet, I'm a thinker
I'm not a conversationalist, I'm not a speaker
If you approach me
I'll probably keep it brief
Maybe it's a blessing or maybe it's a curse
But if you want to get to know me
I'll have to let you into my conscious first
-
Lowkie©
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 4:08 PM UTC
Are you crying from lying I'm desperately trying to understand your brain.
There is a part I'm never buying and I know I'm not insane.
You say you want to prove this wrong but you know it's not the same!
I want to carry the message along as life is not a game.
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 9:08 AM UTC