---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********
now and again
approaches the fog in me
screams its name
apropos adverbs appear
slick little nouns
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
beneath eight parts of speech
within prison walls
filled in the past
like Job's tedious job
homographs from heteronyms
words never mind...
they wind the mind
in the wind...
Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.
Page after page
My nose in a book
I read intently
As the words
In my mind
With one look.
Imagination runs wild,
There is nothing
Like the thrill,
Like a roller coaster
Giving you chills.
It’s a rainbow
If you will.
Get on it,
And feel the inclination
You’ve had enough.
But is it ever?
Once you start
It’s too tough
To get off
To begin with.
You are filled
And with pride.
Reading takes you
to the top,
To the power
Knowledge is power,
A roller coaster
That never stops.
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
This Haiku is for:
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
First friend, foremost;
Dressed in Allusion;
How I need thee!
How I need thee!
Never deep asleep,
Nor rest Refrained,
Who has pause to write,
And write to pause;
Time needs its tick-tock,
Rocked at chimes;
Clink — tinkle;
Cubes in a glass;
Onomatopoeia is back,
At Lake Oxoboxo,
Not pair a ducks,
She quacked not;
She waddled not;
She flew not;
Run into Enjambment,
On foot nearby;
Rhyme Royal chanting;
Out of line,
The coins are tossed;
O my dear friends,
A is for audacious, a bold statement made by the foolhardy
B is for boor, an ill-mannered person who’s apology is tardy
C is for curtail, an education cut short, old Alma Mater haunted
D is for dander, ones anger rising at ignorance being flaunted
E is for empirical, experience gained from observation and experiment
F is for flit, from one idea to another fleetingly move, an impediment
G is for gnomon, the implement on a sundial casting a long shadow
H is for huddle, a confused mass heaped together into a barrow
I is for innate, our inborn and instinctive natural intrinsic being
J is for jar, of facts which are at variance with others we are seeing
K is for knell, the sound of a bell spelling the extinction, changes it rings
L is for luminous, shedding light on otherwise invisible, obscure things
M is for mirth, when you can laugh in merriment, finding glee in a situation
N is for nous, the common sense some people lack, being without gumption
O is for obfuscate, to confuse, stupefy and bewilder the mind, factually
P is for proffered, to offer explanations and demonstrate tactfully
Q is for queue, is a line of people willing to learn new concepts
R is for reredos, the grid removed from the fire and old precepts
S is for semantics, the study of words/phrases and their meanings
T is for tome, the voluminous books studied and digested the dealings
U is for unction, a soothing word causing deep emotions, in a trio
V is for vim, the vigour of mental strength or energy expressing brio
W is for woe, is the bitter grief that you feel at the loss of one of a pair
X is for xanthous, it describes the colour of his yellow skin and red hair
Y is for yammer, it explains voluble talk, which includes lament and wail
Z is for zany, the buffoon and the clown’s assistant who will assist us to bail!
Flitting audaciously to obfuscate semantics and dicing zany bards
Yammering on about things which jar that we should ideally discard
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
Me myself and i
For I myself,
Believe in myself.
For I love to stand by the book shelf.
In order to read some nice stuff.
Yoruba is my lineage.
I’m seen by my image.
And am called by my real name.
Buying things, I buy not fake.
I aim to be among the greats.
For one of my saying, says,
“Pays to be popular than being famous’’
Cos, famous people could be no-torious.
People say am pretty shy
That a time, I wish to cry.
Cos, I know I do try
To hide that, am really shy.
I’m a Muslim,
For my religion is, Islam.
So, pock meat is an haraam.
But I’m free to dine on ram.
I wish to be a doctor
So that youngsters can see me as a mentor.
I love teaching as a Professor.
For all that are great, are my mentor.
People don’t really know me,
So, this is to tell who I be.
For I prefer being a Lewis’ base,
Than to be a bronsted’s base.
Ridwan is my real name.
Olyrid is just a nick name.
You better know before it’s too late,
For I involve not in a criminal case.
My advice for you in life is this:
Serve you GOD, when not in pains
For in good health a person fails,
But calling unto him when soaked in pains.
Is my yahoo mail.
I’m dark, friendly and a little tall.
And all I love is winning soul.
For all I hate, is the “big boys” style.
Cos “sagging” is what they like.
For all I do, it’s my own style.
So if you like, you can be my type!
I remember the day when comments were the main
They're all very instrumental to the Soup's mainframe
Some comments are influential that created other writes
And many were like tuition that kept us crisp and bright
But there now appears a drought growing larger every day
We need to increase our comments as they help us write our says
Maybe it's time for change, for the Soup to alter it's route
Many foundations have recently left, will others follow suit
The columns showing us the views, tells us nothing at all
How many have clicked on a poem thinking that's a bit of a trawl
So another poem was open and not a word was read
So basically the views are worthless, because comments are our thread
We can learn from our comments but we will never learn from the views
It's our democratic choice for all, of what we do and choose
Nothing stays the same for ever as it appears to be
It's still the worlds best poetry site, that's down to you and me
I will not be late to work today
I will get there on time
I will brush my teeth
Without singing songs
Without thinking about birthdays
I will get there on time
I will eat my oatmeal
Without thinking of
Strewn against a wooden
Like dropped goblets
From a robbers pillowcase
I will be there before the bell rings
My papers will be checked
My hair will be combed
My mind will be alert
Ready to begin my lesson
I will not wonder why
My oldest son doesn’t have a job
I will not pray too long
For my daughter who is taking the bar today
At 10:30 AM in New Orleans
I will not scar my knees wishing
For some alternate world
Where children are never neglected
Where there is no abandonment
What nonsense to try and order the world
Just get to work on time
Put your things in the car, your projector and
The white binders that you didn’t look at
All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the
grades on the computer
I will leave now
Before it is impossible to
Be on time
I will cream my ashy ankles
I will not focus on the white
Cat on the black pillow
With the green eyes
I will not water the plant
I will not watch TV
I will not write poetry
I will not write poetry
I will get to work on time
I will be ready
I will not be daydreaming about fog
Wondering if I’ll get Alzheimer’s like my mother
Or colon cancer like my dad
I won’t be thinking about that stuff
I will be locking the front door and
Closing the gate and clicking the clicker
And starting the car and leaving
I will not be in my living room
Wondering if there is any reason to love
Because I do not love for reason
I love because He first loved me
It is not incantations or intoxication
Or imagination it is my life and
The structure will come with the
Clearness of Bajan water
So clear you can see the fish
Fly float across the Atlantic
It is time
This poem must end
I will not be late for work
Not for nothing
Not for nobody
Not for anything
Not for everything
This poem is over
the work day begins
I age without guilt
Life has treated me well
I have written many poems
So many stories to tell
I'll keep on writing
Till I can type no more
My eyes go blind
My muscles are sore
I live each moment
Be it happy or sad
And I must tell you
There's nothing I've never had
Some want money
Some want fame
I just want the world to remember
Life is not a game
Will I be here tomorrow
Yes, probably so
With that said
I just want you all to know
I enjoy all your poetry
Talent is everywhere
Keep writing forever
Show the world you care
Your poetry friend
‘ A Metaphysical Moment ’
A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much
… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea
… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …
A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …
(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:
Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things
( I left )
) you (
( my )
(note) O oooo
( on )
) a (
( for )
) you (
( to )
(read) O oooo
( ere )
) the (
Don't go messin'
With my buddy Jack
He's cool people,
And I like him,
He writes well,
Yeah, this from Tom Bell,
You take him on,
You take on me,
Let me tell you,
Cut the crap and show
Or you might get
A poetic broken a__
It's 7Am here, and cold
Just awoke, with,
Oh, Here We Go Again!
Fever, Pain, Confusion,
And Lots of Other Groovy Things
To Keep My Mind Busy...
Many more people know of you
than a few days ago....
Did you ever hear of Rod Mckuen?
Professional poet/ musician/songwritter-
One of the reasons I love poetry...
Not only will you understand him, you should
enjoy him.....Sorry about your work load....
My French is rusty.....I'm pretty good in geometry though;
received 100% on NYS Regents Exam when young-
an unheard of thing, scores in college of 97-99% for the term's work,
and it seemed easy as pi (joke- pie, etc....oh, why am I explaining it,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.......) Hope you have a happy day.....write an
indepth poetic bio?? I'd love it, so would many others....
you are known in literary circles here now, I'd venture to guess....
surprising, the power of words, n'est pas? Je ne sas pa, rien du tout....pardon
my spelling and french......it's unused since early 1960's (ancient history) What
city are you in? Ever travel??? A favorite destination??? Any questions about
the enigmatic nature of "Americans?" We're really well meaning, just sometimes
seems we might misinterpret, or misunderstand things obvious to others (and
vica versa....) Do you get to see movies??? Need books to read?? I got a library
of 10,000 books, at least, being handicapped gives me too much time on my
hands, and my health leaves me precious little of a future to expect. I have lots
of funny stories. I hope you are okay....I never met anyone so brilliant in 57 years
of living. Youf friend in poetry, tom."
I was born in Amhurst Massachuetts
on Decenber 10 1830
and had died May 15 1886
My hair is bold like the chestnut burr
and my eyes like the sherry in the glass
that the guest leaves behind
I cannot write about the world without
first backing away from it and then
comtemplating it from a distance
A word is dead when it is said
Some say I say it just begins
To live that day
Who Am I ?
My Poetess Sweet
I'm the ultimate
my mother, God Bless her,
taught me the joy
of using thought
a little more meaningful
than cars, popularity
money or fame
your mind can travel
there are no barriers
each book adds
to your being
to your mind's sky
they are things
because you share them
the reader and the author
each merged together
somehow their minds
make more than two
so I have spent
a king's ransom
in the years when
I could afford
these golden treasures
far more rich
than gold or silver
I made the master bedroom
of my current home
a library quite extensive
where my mind can roam
I have so many books
I could not fit them all
but part with one?
for any reason under the sun
I have diaries from the civil war
but still a wonderous mirror
into a time and life
never to return
many other treasures
but books among my best
I could never be
little work would
I get done
my eyes would be stuck
inside my charges
and no one could
withdraw a one.
Sensitive ears of nature I have
Poetry is not the sight of words
but the sound.
Spoken,sung or played on a guitar...
Human, machine,instrument or nature.
Any of these are cool as long
as they're written down.
A flute playing, a bird singing ,
a car engine starting.
Someone whipping , chopping,
cooking in the kitchen.
Hear it first, then write it down.
For what is poetry but the text
the sound that you've found?
When I started my writings I didn’t know that much;
But, as I began to write, I learn to know so much.
Let’s say I knew a thing when I got featured, my poem;
I knew what rhyme is, but my heart has its own anthem.
Writing is not that easy, which made it hard to meet
All the poetic forms, if I always see, but a white sheet.
Yet, I knew that if I will try, I will lose nothing; I tried.
So I wrote this very short poem, a senryu thing: a bride.
That you took joy reading it, making me smile and proud;
The way I see myself now, I’m a poet, with a voice: loud.
If I chose to be a poet, sure I wouldn’t be in a losing end;
For a poet never lose, but certainly, wins a heart. A trend.
At least now, I know how and what to write. I learned.
I’ll be writing sonnet today, for yesterday it was tyburn.
You see, I learned a lot, through the help of my God;
And you, my love, His blessing to me when I was sad.
I do not know?
Brainwaves- not just an invented excuse
These ideas are born for a use
When I sleep arbitrary thoughts sing
Like in a cartoon, I see a light bulb and hear a ‘ting’
Thoughts pour like they do now
No explanation, they just appear somehow
Your probably thinking this is taking me ages to write
As I speak my words strike
Its not even a minute and my brainwaves materialise
The whole world is waiting to realise
Brainwaves come to those who are gifted somehow
They are happening right now
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words,
and not necessarily my reality;
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing
You can be who you want to be on any level
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys, or places that some don’t even think exist
They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses whether they are just cases,
or me in the absolute right here
My words exude positive intentions;
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections
and reversed dejection
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul
Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect
according to divine order
They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time
because up until now,
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside –
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words
Blank Verse Rhyme
The master said “create blank verse in lines of ten”.
Form five Iambic feet without a rhyme.
“These five Iambic feet you must achieve”.
The verse will have a rhythm you can hear,
when studied closely this will be revealed.
For, lines of blank verse rhyming discontents
the master. “Do it over, take all night”!
The lines of blank verse sing a little song,
each syllable, each rhyme, you’ll hear them ring!
You’ll sing the tune of verses blank and pure.
And now I keep up with this blank verse trick,
I hear its tick ten syllables per line.
It rhymes so soft; I have it mastered now,
so naturally it falls right from my pen.
Oh, where will this blank verse rhyme find an end?
Yet, twenty lines of syllables came out
much faster still than I had thought they should.
I love each rhyme, the timing so precise,
I hope it pleased the eye and ear. I turned
it in, it came back very clearly signed
‘ Constructive-Criticism … (An Oxymoron, For All But A Few) ’
Constructive-Criticism Is Good, It’s True
But, I’ve Only Seen It Used Properly, By A Few …
‘Cause, One Thing I Know, That I Have Seen
‘Some’ Use Criticism, Just To Be Mean …
Then, The Term Should Be: Destructive-Criticism
‘Cause, They Ain’t Even Getting Paid! … To Spout Poison In ‘Em
I Know Then, They Want To Abuse, in Jealous-Individualism
So, Maybe, They Need An Enema, or Have An Embolism
Coming Up (or while under Construction) I Was Told
And The Engineer-Advice, Was As Good As Gold
‘ If You Can’t Say Something Nice, Don’t Say Nothing’ At All’
So, I Don’t Bomb Somebody’s Building, Just To Watch Them Fall
Constructive-Criticism, Don’t Sic That Dog On Me
Take It and Go Bark-Up, Somebody Else’s Tree
Take A Look At Your Own, Before You Tell Me What’s Wrong
You Know What You Can Do With That … (and The Horse You Rode On)
And In The Words of ‘Tom Snyder’, (The Idea I Relate):
“Just ‘Cause I Think Somebody’s Trying To Kill Me … Don’t Mean They Ain’t!”
And, If You Don’t Like My Building, There’s The Door, Walk Away
I Don’t Need You Cutting Down, My Structure of What I Say
And If Negative-Criticism, Is Under Construction ... That’s A Front !
When Have You Ever Heard of Something Negative, Building-Up ?
Maybe Somebody Dropped Them On Their Head As A Child
But That’s No Excuse To Criticize, Somebody Else, or Their Style
And that ' True ', for A Few, I Meant at The Beginning
Here Are The Ones, I Accept Their Condescending:
GOD … Loved-Ones … Close Friends … (and Me)
‘Cause I Am My Own Worst-Critic, You See …
Constructive-Criticism, That’s an “””Oxymoron”””
And Look How That Word Is Spelt … Hon
(I Prefer The Term: Commentator ( Cause I Love to Comment ! )
‘Cause I Want To Polish Your Metal, Without Leaving A Dent
the less i have of
the additional use of
the more it breaks down
From bebop, swing to hip-hops thing
True poets had it best
For there is a rhythm in the soul,
Which they all just had to express
Some could not control
This powerful thing
Was so often put to the test
It began to dawn coming on strong
Within the birth of a thing
Called the Harlem Renaissance
That jazz, that poetic-jazz, of intense birth
Possessing syncopated rhythms
And chronic expression of surreal tunes
That perfected blend of jazz-poetry
Developed into what it is today.
Thanks to poets like Carl Dunbar and Langston Hughes
That jazz, that jazz, that wonderful poetic-jazz
Being bred of pride, lyrical form and grace
Transcended cultural barriers
Readily accepted in the 1950’s by the humane race
Therefore, the mantra had begun to be
So freely expressed within poetic lyrics
To syncopated beats moving on through the 60’s and 70’s
By way of beat poets like Amiri Baraka
Returning strong throughout the 70’s and 80’s
Thanks to artist like Gil Scott-Heron
Oh, snap he was one of the founding fathers
Of spoken word poetry known to youngsters
Borne to free-styling or hitting the beats
On stage or in the streets
Yes, you’ve guessed it, most def its rap
Re-educating the poet in me, thanks to that thing
In which made many a heart sing
As these icons did their thing
Starting with something called modern day jazz-poetry…
Born during the Harlem renaissance and still going strong
Comments: I hope that you have enjoyed this free verse
tribute to some of the greatest modern day
founders of what is known as Jazz-Poetry.
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Forgotten somewhere in the midst of steel and concrete.
Bound by shackles and chains even in our sleep.
Living like wolves preying amongst lost sheep.
Concrete tears and pains so mindfully deep.
Forgotten by those on the outside.
We cant even run no where, we cant even hide.
No choice left but to sit and fight.
In here only the strong minded survive.
Truth be told in here what is wrong is right.
All most os us got is wasted M&^*&F*^&&ng time.
We sit back and work out and write heartfelt rhymes.
Not to be a victim of prey we all trying.
Many stories are told, songs are written of truth over lying.
We are gone for the moment but not truly forgotten so the hurt we must not show it.
We are to old while we young to be crying in front of full grown men for this is a time we must out grow it.
There aint no way out this hell hole and we all know it.
Feelings of hopelessness surrounds te heart to the point where we can no longer control it.
In here there is only time no fun.
Darkness fills night no light shone in here from the sun.
Only by our own selves we may be out done.
BECAUSE IN HERE IT FEELS LIKE WE ARE TRULY THE FORGOTTEN ONES....