"meagerly" poems
Little rag doll in poses I place, smiles non linear
lipstick is smeared not as it should be perfection
is not on the features as statically smiling.
Meagerly patched doll how you are in my thoughts.
Knotted hair ill placed bobbles that don't show
the best of the features frozen on your hollow face.
mismatched clothes not in a way a woman of choosing
would place, odd socks an ankle one, poppy long stocking
contrasting is size and colour but you'll never know.
I look at you, a Picasso of imagery displaced on your face.
Looking like you got dressed in the closet blindfolded and
alone. My little rag doll I strategic leave in a lonely place.
I collect these porcine eyes drained of essence, I open
your thoughts and they are discarded in a bag.
Later your thoughts will feed my hungry dog.
I leave you empty vacant as you should be, my rag doll
with uninhabited motivation. hollowed shell of what you
used to be, blank stares between you and me go silently.
They find my dolls in there houses distorted like my
vison of how sights are seen. A play house of disillusion,
my dolls are my creations come will you be a rag doll for me.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
**Ugh
Not again
You have that pensive look
the slurred algebraic expression
that algorithmic stench
Molten into confusing matrix
Geometrically weirdly shaped**
*Please shut up
I can't take it anymore
Your meagerly written poems
the frustrating metaphors
baked with suffocating syllables
dude, what the heck is a pensive look*
**There's a huge probability it won't
delve out any logical statistics.
the equations alone will alienate you
the calculus involved is far ahead of your time
just stick with trigonometric thoughts
C'mon you already know the plane of your thighs are sophisticated**
*is that a compliment
Painting splendid imagery
that nobody else understands
a poet lurking in words
always writing
Unfiltered intricately worded poems*
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 2:27 AM UTC
deep with kissing easy trees Spring
wells like blood between the imminent
corpse of day where pennyeyed kittens
and ladybugs mingle with the deliberate
breath of the earth a flower meagerly strives
fragile homely limp and flush Spring languishes
an instant collected warmly into the salient brush
of ******* tingling abruptly pricking a loose cotton
with marble hard ******* round rosey cheecked apple
blossoms in Spring hang briefly like youth without youth
Spring i draw your quivering uglywonderful mouth to my
mouth and creep into your winsome shrill maw my blood
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 7:36 AM UTC
*Not lose your mind
nor heart
when a job you lose
there's another to find
make a new start
another to choose.*
With the job you lose goes the earn
don't think there you would be stuck
soon for you the tides would turn
come knocking your door good luck.
You never really loved the job you lost
money was the only call
but it made you pay a high cost
and the return was meagerly small.
Ruined your hours numbed your soul
the job robbed all your smile
surely on you took a heavy toll
caged your mind all the while.
Money is the need to pay the bill
for even breathing needs buck
but the job you lost stole your free will
made you to be a lame sitting duck.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
I am a number, numb-er than the dumber thumbs on top of me.
A puppet to appease, the appetites of kings, meagerly squalling over nothing.
All i see, is stupidity staring back at me, in a hall of mirrors.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
*Abundance all around
Moments to celebrate the excesses
Shared meagerly*
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
Glossed over pasts plus
Time tested epithets
That indubitably do define
The way you left me that's
Not to deny the truths that do lie
On the static sitting stone
Which are truths I refuse to uncover
Which tend to typify my own
Lack of anything resembling intelligence
I know if you missed me you would say it
Yet it remains categorically impossible
For me to even meagerly admit
That the starry eyed tongue tied
Deliciously delightful strikingly beautiful
Girl I fell in love with
is no more
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
I found myself alone
in the cold dusk
at the crease between
night and day
Over my shoulder the illusive flesh of light
meagerly permeated through refracting clouds
above an ocean enclosed from my view
by lulling hills and warming homes
My hands finally quiet
my legs began their routine stretch
for the solitary walk to the local cafe
where heat anticipated the arrival
of my cooled skin
It wasn't the element of instant gratification
that spun the anxious gears
mechanizing in my chilled blood
but the thought that
Had I not taken the time to strengthen my relations
with the setting that was to remain my home
for the next few years
I would become just another lapse in time
among the earth's surface
The windows never reflecting my spiritualistic limbs
My home untouched by the graces of fond strangers
The light always before me never behind
in that distant place shielded by panes and lenses
and the hungering sky
So I found myself alone
silently walking along
a dimming sidewalk
to a warmer place
with the diluted light filtering
through refracted clouds
against my back
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 7:11 PM UTC
My pen is mourning the agonies and the sufferings
Of my people, who are drowning in the sea of misery.
My keyboard' strokes are shadowing the slow rhythms
Of the wandering beggar, who's lost in the sanctuary.
My voice denounces the filthy cholera and the injustices,
Which are punishing the weakest souls of the valley.
A tiny oligarchy is meagerly being rewarded;
What a shame for a man-made world corrupted with vices!
My daring pen defaces the inequality and the imbalance,
Which fool the image of a so called free world.
My laser beams burn the iris of the blind peasants,
Who can now see clearly the mini-sketch of my people.
I am the brother-in law of the cowardly executed poet
And the great-grandson of the poorest assassinated emperor.
I abhor the vanity and the lowliness of mankind in horror,
Oh! Lord, I'm going to read aloud twelve psalms, from my seat.
My pen is mourning my beloved people,
Who are innocently digesting the giant toxic apple.
My voice is seduced by the wind of liberty,
Which echoes the piercing screams of the hungry babies of Haiti.
P.S. Translation of 'Ma Plume Pleure Du Sang' by Hebert Logerie.
Copyright© November 2010, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of four books of poems:
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 11:34 PM UTC
Meandering
Notion to exceed the divine
Ask us when the miracle of courageous
Welfare, has seen the kinder kind
Mythological
Tastes of overt yesterdays
Tender to aversion, and the image we will
To assurances form, the candor of a little more may
Monumental
Slower by the composure we derive
From the subtlety of eventual
Lucre, and the sour dream of purposed new lives
Meagerly
The tows of responsibility
All to for, forth else in behavior
Will we sit for a new condition, of precept?
Momentum
In motion for a nuance to decide
Is the clash of wisdom with the wishes of when and idiom
The patience of collapse of intuition into the name of a vice
Moreover
Light to a realm of future possibility
Simple advances on the needs of time, and its lover
Caring for the nots that make us a requited whimsey
Mother
Add the bless, the basis of cope and assist
Taken to world's bared for a living other
Merely the best of us, to keep the entourage of is, this the kiss?
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
The warring battle of not good or evil.
Not right or wrong.
But at the moments notice what should be done.
Should I go out to struggle against the war of thought,
or meagerly accept that the battle has been lost;
Why not slide back into bed, a seemingly forever.
Because sometimes what is right is not always right.
And what is wrong is not always wrong.
Maybe defeat is the reality of what I need.
Would that not be so much easier.
Sorry to say, but that's what I'm leaning to.
Just cancel everything for the future, it's only war.
Request this slumber to peacefully accept that I am not meant to win.
This bed does not hold dreams.
The pillows do not rest my head.
"Comforter" oh please. It suffocates me.
These sheets were meant to bring the calm.
But they are my memories.
Reminders of why I can't leave,
and the very essence of why I should.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
The Tempest Twril,
Isn't it the peace sanctuary?
And the abode of all sanctity,
But the spring of malice and muddle?
The tempest twril,
Isn't the heavenly bodies stationed?
And illuminate in their times,
But moves incoherent in their shadows atimes?
The tempest twril,
Isn't light a traveller in a straight line?
And the sun,a mother of them,
But meagerly shines at the centre?
The tempest twril,
Isn't pray and prey four lettered?
And produces the same sound,
But conflict in their meanings?
The tempest twril,
Isn't the first the best?
And supposedly the crown bearer,
But Essau had none?
The tempest twril,
Isn't wundt the genesis of their science?
And paved way for their experiments,
But had an unreliable methodology?
The tempest twril,
The tempest twril,
A Poem Written By,
Historian E.Lexano
©March 11,2015
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
Dole
Is water, evil?
A reign of the old...
To lengthen a chaste of a swindle?
Spit, indeed
Spite is a fouling light...
Meant with troubled mercy, is spice heed?
Looking the horizon, *** is where might...
Has an owe
Owed the timidity, of a love...
We are the seldom, of vice come to know
A reach of sanity's reality, hunger for a covenant?
Choose meagerly...
And a whole decency, becomes our decision
Noticing the bared future of sovereignty...
Arbitrary brass will do; for a secret, a hap, and an intimation?
Love, is a memory fed...
The drama of sophistication, met
For the only liberty of avarice, ever lead
With the voice of deliverance, are we mercies; living's moment let?
Jan 21, 2024
Jan 21, 2024 at 3:03 PM UTC
June is dead-still
trees converse with other
language mocking the trilling
of birds. North of here
there is a visitation. Virgins
are being transferred
all Monday housed in foreign
homes. Oregano
perennial, ingrained on
roof beam the rise and fall of,
a languid mirage outside
much less than an inveterate superstition.
Past the bridge where I once laughed
as a child when my father
surged past ploughed fields.
this almost overtakeless summer
minting its blazing core
and now rivers cut this town.
The derelict nectar of youth,
how lovely it was the first time
to pierce through age, an arcade
rising from the carrion that was
our birthright under the throbbing heat.
Who touched what
to turn room into bedlam – slowly, these
evincing hours paint me the
grandiloquent picture of all
when the moon a foolish assumption
under a rain-soaked grassland
moist enough for crickets, venue for
frog hidden somewhere, outlined by a cadenza,
us, humming along in our
cast-off night clothes, meagerly this
climate tumescent in this town.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
; and it leaps
over touch and blood
the illustrious crepitus of your oscillating
olive wrinkle
meagerly i
climbed
into it's hollow
solid
flexing
pink
asinine heat
i
cream and chunk
likely
the steam
is drunk of ignoble
*******
shitting
from her
stifff
blundering
boney
rib
s
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 12:33 PM UTC
-I scream at you for bleeding everywhere, when I myself feel like an never-ending open wound.
-Lazy, laying, and filled with disdain we sit and let time wander through the dusty halls.
-Suspended in mid-air, twirling amongst light and darkness, I wait for movement to occur.
-The smog has lifted, but we remained mentally clouded and uncertain.
-There's plenty of food, but nobody eats. We stay still until the sun sets and countless clouds of *** eagerly activate the palate. Then we feast meagerly on snacks and drink and drink and drink until tomorrow blinks into our vision. We clean until the space feels open and momentarily alive, only to wreck it through the night to create purpose for the next day.
-The fragility of the day immediately crumbles in my hands the moment I make contact.
-I'm holding my breath, hoping all the air will keep me afloat.
-Because in the end I'm just a scared girl, shooting arrows at the world trying to pinpoint my direction.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 4:13 PM UTC
Everything has
An unexpected
meaning
If you look deep enough
Nothing is for naught
Entomb the misery
Within your heart
Love fully
Hide carefully
Hate sparingly
Cry as needed
Trust meagerly
Never
EVER
Let life bring you down
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:08 AM UTC
Last night, I dreamt I went where people go when they die. I saw Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain and asked if Jesus ever came. It was amazing, all the people that were there. There were many faces I couldn't see, a plethora of souls Earth has ever seen.
The scene was like a cruise ship, or so it seemed. There were many different rooms, all full to the brim with these beings. I wanted to talk with each of them, I wanted to know their stories. But, unfortunately I had to be up for a class at 7:30.
That unconscious internal clock that keeps me on schedule, it alerted me that my time was nearly up in this vessel. I pled meagerly with myself, "please, let's just miss class this one day! I really think this is magical, spiritual. I don't want to go away!" But, alas the other world was calling me, to return to the "other" me. I had no choice but to succumb to adult responsibility, to will myself to wake up and face the music on the other side of the dream.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
her lips taste like cigarettes and brandy
like a big puff of smoke i inhale her
she creeps into my brain and locks
her hooks inside my lungs i am
coughing consequences
cigarette lips are you The One?
my mind goes numb and i meagerly
attempt to forget her
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
The tow of gifts, to youth:
Have a questioning monster...?
A hap of ability, to venture a round eye could
Make your mark in society, with a teeming occur?
What has a luckier few, than the future due?
Simple news and direction to verify, the idea's we pace
Just a calling hour, that liked the doting, that amazed soon...
To see the risks involved, a hardy scope of a wish that says:
Courage and wisdom, in the moments of sojourn
Has the daunting task of hell, for presence first?
Than the sincerity of atmospheres to gain, and again...
The role of viciousness, to look upon a cause before it gets worse?
Shame you have to go, but a better chance sits with you...
Can the vice of notorious visions, of quiet and might
Taken to a decency for a loosened, question's of audacity anew
That has the intuition and tooth, to tell a world to see it, in new light:
Stepping forward, with succor to meagerly meet
Shares of destiny; begin to let more, like a rage was...
The court and the offhand quarter given to a patience to seat
At uniqueness's worth, to which we know your smile even, does...
Life, to wager, does life know when to quit?
Salt and harmony, now the victor of such a race
Like a harrowing care, thrown to a lion with a moment to tell it
Reaching for a song, do you notice the music of showers to face?
Apr 16, 2024
Apr 16, 2024 at 5:08 PM UTC
What is it I was thinking that day
Memories, have they been bleached
I seek answers but the question is what
From where do these emotions derive
Can someone explain why
Will someone ever recognize me
Help me clear my unsettling unknowings
Guessing can only satisfy me meagerly
For peace I require the full course
Why do even the trees seem to stare
Though I feel the same towards them
Seeming to be secretly replaced
As this land I set my feet upon does
Passion I recall was the epitome of my life
So why do I only sit and ponder about it
Lounging like I'm one hundred years past due
Knowing there's no point in dwelling
But still thinking about these answers
Not knowing the question I want to ask
Laying down I'll think about it
Maybe one day I'll fade back into my reality
So until then
I'll just close my eyes
Just staying on the black transitioning screen
Known as sleep
Until I understand the questions
That my answers so seek
When I open my eyes up once more
I wonder what I'll be thinking of that day
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
Content in my reason, I indulge my future distress
Feckless friends and fiends lie...together
Our homemade misery surmounts
Indeed, we do have a habit of making habits
This Intention for contention is our invention
A fleet of reckless daggers flow from my mouth
I decimate past and present alike
Thus, the future flees from my nearsighted discourse
My dreams vehemently elude themselves far from my sight
Devoid of ambition, I fall from the sky with Lucifer and all of his friends
These means will never be justified
Choleric, we are vexed by our sugar-coated ends
This silence overtakes us
We are lucid metaphors of our former-selves
I lie awake and wake to lie
My half-empty bottle is never fulfilled, and never content
My heart is a home of chaos
A passionate portrait of selfishness
I am a kin to fruitless endeavors
Forgetting sense, I meagerly float throughout this wretched discourse...
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 6:58 AM UTC