The bird’s house is capped with a snow drop.
The bird’s bath is a mushroom like form.
The branches all groan, snap, crackle, pop,
with the weight of the night’s snow so borne.
The cat’s on the rug near kitchen vent.
The furnace is pumping out more heat.
The tea kettle’s whistling with intent.
The old gal settles down with a sweet.
The car’s all shrouded, a sheet of white.
The trellis is a grand work of art.
Outdoors the benches all gleam with ice.
The new moon’s a rare, randy, upstart.
Darkness descends will a muffled whisper.
She sips tea and remembers who’s kissed her.
Anne Murray did have quite the flurry, voice as a brook without crooks
Canadian born, songs of forlorn, beautiful vibes, I subscribed
Such singing as a bird, the world has never heard, she splurged
“O Little Snow Bird”, in the words I heard, calming of Vietnam
O spread your wings and fly away, words of God’s love I heard
Mind level love, forever untrue, so what’s new, `Tis festering spew
O but little snow bird, an alpine of cleansing snow, God’s Love
Spread your wings that brings, renewing, from festered spewing
Providing for me a way to go, by a cleansing snow
Innocence, a purity, of life’s promising security
Some leaders said only fate, this atrocity of hate
Maimed, lamed and defamed they came, to claim their bitter fame
State side they now abide, holding inside, Our leaders lied
Leaving the lamb of their souls in Nam, for uncle Sam
Atrocities, of hate, never abate, mind’s sickening fate
The Vietnam of late, laid at the mind’s creation of hell’s gate
O beauty of little snow birds, spread your wings, fly back this way
Cleans again, the glean of mind’s sin called fate, lain at heart’s gate
Like an alpine of purity, Love from Anne’s heart was sung
Maybe only to ease her own pain, but her timing was plain
The answer is blowing in the wings, of even a little snow bird
The such of which the mind of itself has never learn or heard
All humanity will not learn, but precious few will return
By their trust in Love, the snow white Dove, spewed forth from above
Anne Murray sang away I know, some of my own heart’s pain
Honoring all Vietnam veterans, be you not in fretters
From your hearts of security your love is your surety
Let your Alpine of pure snow bird, be Love’s word you’ve heard
Dane I am sure you’ve at least heard this song that this poem is about.
It somehow caused me to think of you, as I was writing it. Therefore
I dedicate it to you and all veterans for your service to our country.
Sincerely, Love, Moses
Segun my child! My son!
Soon, the cock will crow at dawn
And the east will showcase the sun
Soon, you will leave my home,
To found your own
With words of wisdom, you won’t be alone.
Like a mini-skirt, advice is too short
But it covers the body’s vital lot.
Your brother is not your friend,
He is another you, but independent
So your love for one another, allow no dent
For the sons of men…
Every journey far destination brings
Nature presents a transport means
The snow has the snow dogs
The desert has the camels
The long distant road has the horse
Even technology came to aid us
For the road, we have the cars
For the seas and ocean, the ship
For the rail, the train
The sky has the airplane
All, to lead us through our destiny lane
That is it with man’s life and the battle in it
For whatever fate comes to us, so be it
As the future hungers like a wild beast
Likewise on it, your eyes be firmly fixed
Take a deep breath my child, and learn this
Every master was once an apprentice
Be it the prophets or the dentists
Fate is most times very unfair
Be not defeated by the things you saw
For life is more like war
And all is fair in love and war.
But whatever life’s battle you face
Nature will surely with remedy surface.
When you fall or fail
Don’t ceaselessly wail
Inhale…count to ten, and then exhale
Turn stumbling block to stepping stone,
So the builders reject, will be chief cornerstone
Two Demi-gods are on man’s destiny entrance
Their names, Consistency and Perseverance
Segun, to them, you must bow
No matter what, no matter how
On their feet, bring your head down
I know my son, I know,
That adventure is the blood of the youths
But by rushing the moment, the petals are bruised
So, calmly assimilate my child, calm study
For so, Apostle Paul admonished Timothy
Never be the first to hate
But to forgive, be the first and be in haste
My son, all humans can’t love you
If they all do, then they want to kill you
Likewise, all humans can’t hate you
If they all do, then they want the best for you
What people suffer to get, yet you so easily get
That you must never despise
For it is your miracle in disguise
For the sons of men,
Me, myself and I comes first
Don’t follow that context
If you find the opportunity to rule
My son, take the alternative to lead
For where rulers doom, leaders bloom
When fortune knocks on your door,
Be quick to offer him a sit
Use your wisdom and condor
To keep him and give him no exit
When the Innocuous snow, unhurriedly descends.
With muted twirls, like the dried leaves dying.
There is a beautiful gloom staring with tinted sense.
A truth of life, so deafeningly notifying.
The flakes of snow fall on the sinister paths
Dazzling us with its radiant white
Cleverly disguised remarkable façade
Making the chameleon proud of evil’s slight
It makes some incessantly slip, trip and blunder.
And snigger while you ashamedly perspire.
You wonder whether it was all of you,
Has it stemmed out of some filthy desire?
Oh what an irony the snow is!
Spotlessly blanch yet decidedly ambiguous
Camouflaged by the thick conceal
The misdeeds of man are outrageous
When the light of the sun shines and dazzles
The bare soul is indeed revealed
Dark as a dungeon rotten away
Clogged brain, locked ears and heart sealed
From the rocking cradle, to the thorny bier.
He portrays the spirit of pretence.
A shady heart and speech so brutally suave
The whiteness of the snow makes sense
Written February 24, 2012
One too many times
Our love has been unkind
To the rigors and chills of the snow
The streets they meet
Intersecting the heat
But the cold will blow without heed
To rekindle the flame
Must sound quite insane
But it's all I have left in this world
Yet to feed from the hand
Of another's demands
Could lead to the start of the fall
Ride the wind
Wherever it goes
Don't ask it questions
You don't want to know
The wind will carry you home
Walking under a burning sun
Listening evocative Christmas songs
Sweat furrows my motionless visage
Snow calmly is falling down
Alive drops dissolve my thoughts
A fresh breath gently stirs
Walking straightaway still alone
Looking for a friendly crucial turn
Nobody matching my broken mind
What's hot? What's cold?
Deep down somebody is already here
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
sometimes the snow falls in sheets of white,
a blanket of excited kisses, playful -
dampening your thoughts
racing your heart
and sometimes, the snow
falling in sheets of white
brings waves of brittle stings, sharp reminders
memories in the ice that bite
sinking your heart, making it cower -
your lips quiver but it's not the cold
not the journey through the snow,
it's hunching your shoulders
bowing your head low
lifting a weighted foot, bringing it crashing down -
the snow bites at your lips
dapples your cheeks with tears
making you close your eyes,
bow your head to your chest, and slave through sinking steps
the last wave comes and falls,
and around your knees, like a rugged embrace
lies yesterday's shower
and as the sun rises
that soft pit of tingling kisses and prickling bites wavers under the needs of a new day
and this caked ground quavers and sunders
flows away, leaving you damp and shivering once again,
so you lift unfettered foot, send it forth onto cleared paths
and march into the warmth of a new day
and the dampness on your clothes is no match
the dampness in your bones just a scratch;
but for the dampness in your chest
the sinking of your heart....
as head holds high and shoulders lift
chest is pumped to the heats caress
so comes the healing of the sun, to mend the damage of your plight.
FIRST SNOW of PRINCE WILLIAM SOUND
swirl white birch
brittle leaves snow dance
* This is a poem about basically feeling like when a part of yourself dies. Then certain
people can come along and make that one part feel alive and better than ever
because you trust them to be just yourself*
The serpent of Unrequited love
Sunk it’s toxic fangs deep into the very marrow of my being
My heart heaved with its poison, which was void of loving emotion
So I tucked it away…… six feet under my subconscious…
My mind was a cemetery of regrets.
Things I should have done, and when I should have learned to walked away.
Then there was you……………
You were the misty avenger that stepped out of the abyss
Shook my snow globe world upside down.
Speckling my VISION with light, snow and glitter
Heart reserrector, you’re honesty was my defibulater
Thumping life organ through my sweater
coloured my cheeks a candy apple red from pleasure
giving me the courage to break free from the prison of woeful
We lay on your carpet, filling our lungs with laughter
I am Exposed, and exuberant……. Letting my true personality resurface
No longer am I a hesitant seal peeking over the ocean’s surface,
NO LONGER DO I MISS THE SUNSETS
I AM EUPHORIC ON THIS GORGEOUS LIFE
Drinking down the pleasure of a sunrise
This moment with you ……………………..is a Utopian treasure
You take my breath away… and your beauty is immeasurable…………………….
Your wisdom is celestial,
My guardian angel
For your insight I am eternally thankful
I do not know?
The snow is capable
of taking on infinite patterns
Individually, each flake
assumes a separate identity
a true stratum of conformity takes place
It may manifest itself as the light powder,
innocent, just its appearance
makes you want to throw yourself into it
Spin with delight
But under the powder, there is, too,
the danger of grey snow--
the trap above the grave
Dirty and streaked with debris
This is not the snow which retains
a beautiful and exquisite uniqueness
The Greenlanders knew each stage
of such snow strata
Knew just how much pressure was safe
Where every foot placement must come down
And if one is uninitiated to every criteria
for staying alive
Arrival is no longer a question.