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neth jones Feb 20
twilight and the night animals spit raw
it's their time

timid by day   held under spell
now their time   to hold a great red court
K Feb 11
The light hits my skin different
the sun would never
leave behind traces of love
I have yet to see the same artistic expression
during the day
This contrast
leaves blisters on my hands
Waking up under a spell
my feet hurt
Photographic memories of you
make love
to my soul  
Full of dreary absence
and dozy
my large tears brim
Let them fall
Splash
Reflecting on the past is hard for me,
I don't really think I made it that far
I think I did pretty great with the task of being a better me,
But you miss the lust of years ago, don't say you don't.
Rather than being a boisterous beast.

You're only statistically better than you used to be.
I'm proud to be leaving behind the old me, though it does claw at me to leave behind a wild life.
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.
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