We're poetic wraiths,
Poets' souls in motion, bards,
Brainiacs, our muse,
Singing around our planet,
Nature, Love's dreams, far beyond.....
Categories:
bards, appreciation, beautiful, encouraging, love,
Form: Tanka
life it seems
is not without its irony
for the screaming bards
of Mu Mu Land
.. on lounging chairs
.. on deep-piled rugs
.. just laying round
.. reciting verse
.. my bards were still
.. and known to all
.. in whispered words
.. as mild as mauve
and when they showed me to the door
I could sense within
creativeness
the un-ravelling of their pain
Categories:
bards, life, love, meaningful, mental
Form: Free verse
Bards and society
Poets are gentle people who like to form a group for writers
with an eccentric title, “a thousand poets against war.”
Poetry is only useful for dictators and those who like to demonstrate how literal they are.
Dictators find them valuable if they extoll the regime
If not, you are exiled or jailed.
Poets are subjected to flattery, the lucky one gets a medal before they die
of consumption.
I was thinking of this when lost in a city, with many statues of generals riding an iron horse.
And a bust of the sensible poet in the entrance of a downtrodden hotel.
Categories:
bards, best friend, blessing, butterfly,
Form: Blank verse
Thanks bards fallen
For the inspiration given
For the eyes are now opened
For in lines on paper inked,
Lessons were learned,insight was earned.
Thanks bards fallen
For in lines down written
Truth was spoken
Dreams were born.
Thanks bards fallen
For the many hearts mused.
In your lines and rhymes,
Emotions and feelings lucidly expressed,
Vividly felt.
Many a bard
Fly sky high
For because you flew.
And gates to a world new,
You opened.
Categories:
bards, farewell,
Form: Ode
When two bards do meet...
Their closed minds they discreetly disclose
Tho their versions differ- in a good rapport treat;
But see to that, no ones vanity loose.
As verses from both sides do flow
They argue not- yet wont agree
Tho each one their own best, hence never do bow
As they climb each other on Mount flattery.
Is it through the hard ordeals of life's edge?
That they possess ego of egoistical sublime;
Or with the acquaintance of heavy knowledge
They take intellectual stride with the time.
There lies a truth that: to both do teach
That; Acceptance is worth the regard than anything to preach.
Categories:
bards, art, metaphor, passion, philosophy,
Form: Sonnet
Albert Gannon Farquar-Lock, he sowed
his peppered praise; his Shakespeare
wandering love of words, and hey!...
distant, country, with me the pupil fifteen
and a day, he my teacher:
keen to learn my pen, his way;
and through the nightly, writing of his sprite,
I learned to conjure light, by write;
his furrowed brow, or tense fleshy smile,
could take my pen, through field or styal,
we hushed the stars and wrote of mars and
other poultry Gods, like Hemingway, Carver,
Doyle and Faulkner's saints; then briskly,
followed the words, I'd borrowed from Bukowski,
Capote and unfaithful Hughes;
Plath,Mckweon and O'keefe all helped master
the stealthy thief, "time"; to write such simple prose;
the skin off every poet's nose;
and now with his memory, his college tie, his blue-
tweed jacket, and his catholic sigh, my skill (little),
and joy of speech, he hushed the stars, for me to reach.
Categories:
bards, appreciation, art, beauty, culture,
Form: Free verse
TRIBUTE TO AFRICAN WRITERS FOR THEIR STRUGGLE AGAINST OPPRESSION
CELEBRATE AFRICAN BARDS
A mirror in ink
Placed before my future
To save me from the sink
Of this chameleon picture
Anthills of the Savannah:
With pen, they told me the past;
Without their trail I wonder
How to narrow a confusion this vast
Through their crystal pages,
My antiquity—inept— illumines;
For their battles, no wages
But mansions in exiles and prisons
But unrest, pains, misery and yokes:
For speaking with a different tongue,
The rulers – yellow and black blokes—
Incarcerated and suffered them long
The struggle seems never to set.
It surely has an end; they believe.
Freedom is a song in threat;
After clobbering, in peace they’ll live
Though they hail from the dregs,
On their pen was Africa’s jungle justice born.
Now they are grey, they are like eggs
To be kept; songs to sing to my son.
I celebrate our African bards
Whose inks defeated bullying barrels;
And with all noble regards,
I salute their courage that unlock freedom cells.
Categories:
bards, freedom, history, me,
Form: Rhyme
Homer,Chaucer, Shakespeare, Keats, Eliot
Soyinka, Okigbo, Osundare
Now me, recycling human ideas
Categories:
bards, history
Form: Haiku
Slept and slumbered under the quinine stains we wept,
On a poignant bard’s weary nib we slept.
Yearned we to spill on to paper,
Him caged sore thoughts for later.
Weeping words we lay folded,
On table, heart moulded.
Sorrowed dirge lament,We repent,..................dissent
Categories:
bards, introspection, life,
Form: Free verse
Poetry turns from the common man,
Turns on its arrogant heel,
Stalking away toward the cloistered academe.
Nothing is duller or deader than
Poets unable to feel
Love—or compassion, or dream the lofty dream.
Thus poetry turns from you, from me,
And talks to itself, indulgently,
And nobody hears. Quite understandably.
Categories:
bards, art
Form: Verse