Best Bongo Poems
i wait at the river for the cry of the loon
from below
in the muck
reeds
grow tall
there are no lips that will draw music
from these clarinet dwellers
i stand under the brightly lit dusk
nearly motionless
the moon above is glued in place nailed in to its spot
holding on to a piece of the bedtime sky
the little dipper reminds me of a rocking chair
my favourite star shines just a little dimmer
time passes
does so
uninvited
its metronome beat replaces the soundscape
of an otherwise musically crowded air
a hand descends from above
cuts the trapped moon down to a sliver
leaving the twilight mostly blind
i'm getting old
still even my worn out senses
are aware
of the days
aware
of that single golden eye
of its rise
its set
its endless loop
quiet is my flow of sand
stressed beyond reason
my lungs want to burst
my brain explode
my emotions are stretched passed their limit
my chest fills
my chest empties
the choice was
has always been mine
i have not lived the life i was gifted
i'm frozen
i'm hot
like a statue baking in the unforgiving rays of Sol
wide awake in the after dark
with all the usual players
the wolf with his cool stance
dressed in a zoot suit
snapping his beatnik fingers
wooing the maiden night
the lynx with a fluid stride plays
the ground like bongo drums
negotiates the air like brushes on snares
a choir of flyers lend their songs
there is a chasm of nurtured colours
engulfing me in its rich deep tones
having stood here longer then i know
i inhale my time in tiny puffs
i am void of the sanity i once possessed
i happily dismissed that blurry concept a long time ago
it is you know an overrated attribute
time moves with a second hand like a plane propeller
i live every moment as fully as my strength allows
all the living at the river and its surrounding land
add their breath to the natural air of the eventide
i breathe in the chill of the nightfall air
and i
i wait at the river for the cry of the loon
September 28 2015
armand
Categories:
bongo, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Imagination
When I was young
just a bright eyed child
Magic meshed with imagination
Both mystical and wild
Fairytale kingdoms
Colourful real
The grey world outside me
Held such little appeal
I rode metallic moonbeams,
Lassoed shooting stars
Collected turquoise oceans
in my mason jars
My best friend was a monkey
King Bongo ruled my toys
Although small in stature
I was somehow more than other boys
Nothing seemed impossible
I travelled at the speed of thought
Everything wasn’t what it was
And some things were what they were not
I rushed to grow up
Yes it’s true
It seems boys often do
Still my friend I have a secret
I might have kept from you
When I close my eyes
Imagination reappears
I travel back to yesterday
and all those years they disappear.
Categories:
bongo, appreciation, art, beautiful, fantasy,
Form:
Imagism
Mama Africa,
Land of my ancestors' birth;
Source of all mankind,
the once Shangri la of mother earth.
Stir up the spirit of the Mau-Mau in vibrato on the bongo.
Your ways are far higher than the crags of the Kilimanjaro.
Let the cry for freedom rides the winds of the Serengeti,
and the walls of segregation fall like confetti.
With careful utterances,
ransack the minds of the pig-headed souls.
Uhuru milele! Milele bure!
Adamantly, gluttons deprive her black gold.
In the villages, griots will invoke a new story.
Follow the way of the lion,
and watch out for the hyenas.
When the rivers are dry in Tanzania,
danger resides in the mud.
Remember; when liberty is threaten in Somalia,
freedom is written in blood.
Blood stained her crevices with love;
black sons’ and black daughters’ blood.
Categories:
bongo, angstfreedom,
Form:
Rhyme
i wait at the river for the cry of the loon
from below
in the muck
reeds
grow tall
there are no lips that will draw music
from these clarinet dwellers
the moon above is glued in place nailed in to its spot
holding on to a piece of the bedtime sky
a hand descends from above
cuts the trapped moon down to a sliver
leaving the twilight mostly blind
the little dipper reminds me of a rocking chair
my favourite star shines just a little dimmer
i'm getting old
time passes
does so
uninvited
quiet is my flow of sand
stressed beyond reason
my emotions are stretched passed their limit
the choice
has always been mine
i have not lived the life i was gifted
wide awake in the after dark
with all the usual players
the wolf with his cool stance
dressed in a zoot suit
snapping his beatnik fingers
wooing the maiden night
the lynx with a fluid stride plays
the ground like bongo drums
negotiates the air like brushes on snares
there is a chasm of nurtured colours
engulfing me in its rich deep tones
having stood here longer then i know
i inhale my time in tiny puffs
i am void of the sanity i once possessed
i happily dismissed that blurry concept a long time ago
i live every moment as fully as my strength allows
all the living at the river and its surrounding land
add their breath to the natural air of the eventide
i breathe in the chill of the nightfall air
and i
i wait at the river for the cry of the loon
Categories:
bongo, 8th grade, absence, age,
Form:
Free verse
In pure elation joy is near and dear
With two granddaughters and a grandson here.
Their sounds of laughter fills me with delight,
Playing games with them far into the night.
At years of twelve and ten, two are in school.
With baby, we swim in my daughter’s pool.
They love to share thoughts and dreams with me.
When they ask my advise I'm filled with glee.
I’ve taught them the Lord’s Prayer to say each night.
My worries flee when they’re within my sight.
When they’re away dark clouds just form a haze,
My sweethearts bless me in so many ways.
On piano, bongo, and flute they play,
A cacophony of sounds, their way.
There’s many countless songs that we have sung.
I’m joyful grandchildren keep this old heart young.
7-21-22
Joy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Categories:
bongo, children, emotions, joy,
Form:
Couplet
Some senior military seized power in Gabon today,
Ali Bongo 's family led the country
in fifty five years under umbrella
of French government as there were protected
The so called French interests to be on power.
Today President Ali Bongo is informing
the world about his arrestation by the military.
He does not know where could be his son
and family as they are in different places.
The senior military accused him of stealing votes
for third time so that he could continue
to rule like a puppet of some westerners
While the people continue to suffer here and there.
Many young African leaders are tired of fake promises
of some selfish politicians who care for themselves
and continue allowing African natural resources
to cross the seas due to some agreement
with some western countries
which could not reach fifty years
after so called independence and democracy
in west and central Africa.
It is eighth coup d' états in Africa from 2020 to today
as many Africans wish some regimes change.
It will be wise for French government officials to say
loudly " good bye Africa as they are no longer welcomed."
August 30/2023
Categories:
bongo, political,
Form:
Free verse
The westerners eat Amala and Ewedu
We eat Akpo and Ofe Nsala
They dance Juju and Apala
We dance bongo and atilogwu the beat of life.
T^he Northerners speaks hausa whilst we speak igbo
They married with no bride price and dowry
But we marry with bride price and huge dowry.
Cut the man"s hair low, short to remind him That
Marriage is never a bed of roses therefore he must look
After our pride, princess, prestigious priceless pretty queen
Who must painstakingly bear his name abandoning her
Humble background and journey with him amidst roses and bullets.
They wear buba and agbada in an architectural design
Darshiki from the north domain whilst we wear Ukwu george
They plate shoku, koroba and kpatawo and make beads round their neck
Igbo speak, yoruba frown, hausa dance, itskiri watch
Kanuri laugh, Ebira smile, Nupe point, Tiv demonstrate Fulani pick.
Idoma cry, Awori cry, Efik console, Ibibio comfort
Yet Unity we stand despite the cultural diversity.
One for all, all for one, we stand.
Bound to the humble land in hundred fold
Relevant is our culture and tradition
In defend shall we die and perish for our
Precious country.
Categories:
bongo, art, beautiful, , western,
Form:
Free verse
I cant remember the lyrics but it goes something like
Voooooooofoooooodooooohoooo
luduguhudumudusee
leeboodeelobungoly
then some lyrics about a girl
then the guitar goes
(ba ba ba papapapa
baaa babababa baaaa babababa
papapaaaaaaadadadaeeeeeeeeeeeeee)
then there's a kind of cool rythm to it that sounds like a bongo being played under water.
Categories:
bongo, allah,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
some African presidents forced the retirement
of some military generals and others removed them
from some key posts yesterday
After the coup d'état of Gabon.
Some African presidents
who think to own their countries
and stayed on power for decades
now they have much fear to lose powers
like Ali Bongo and others.
This strategy won't help them as the young leaders
who are majority in the army many African counties
need change of some regimes.
It is difficult to stop those coup d'états
As the African youths
understand what they are doing.
It is called "no retreat, no surrender operation."
August 31/2023
Categories:
bongo, depression, fear, political,
Form:
Free verse
English verse>
gimme sum mutual praise
gimme sum mutual praise
gimme sum mutual praise
All them there people's of the world;
Coastal dwellers praising; All day long, all the day long;
Rejoicing, and repenting of their wrongs.
Everybody on the islands;
Everywhere on the coastal Regions on the seas, lakes, oceans, everywhere;
Sahil praise;
Sawahil praise;
Boundary dwellers
capture to the heavens bound;
Islanders playing bongo-drums and tambores
Imani-faith
Kusudi sabatu purpose, purpose
Rejoicing, and repenting of their wrongs.
Everybody on the islands;
Everywhere on the coastal Regions on the seas, lakes, oceans, everywhere;
Sahil praise;
Sawahil praise;
Boundary dwellers
capture to the heavens bound;
People dancing, praising and praying all day this is their Swahili praise;
Swahili verse>
jumla Gimme kuheshimiana sifa
jumla Gimme kuheshimiana sifa
jumla Gimme kuheshimiana sifa
Kwao kuna watu wote wa dunia;
Wakazi wa pwani kumsifu; Mchana kutwa, mchana kutwa;
Kufurahi, na kutubu makosa yao.
Kila mtu katika visiwa;
Kila mahali katika mikoa ya pwani ya bahari, maziwa, bahari, kila mahali;
Sahil sifa;
Sawahil sifa;
Wakazi wa mpaka
kukamata mbingu amefungwa;
Wakaazi wa visiwani kucheza bongo-ngoma na tambores
Imani-imani
Amejenga sabatu lengo, lengo
Kufurahi, na kutubu makosa yao.
Kila mtu katika visiwa;
Kila mahali katika mikoa ya pwani ya bahari, maziwa, bahari, kila mahali;
Sahil sifa;
Sawahil sifa;
Wakazi wa mpaka
kukamata mbingu amefungwa;
Watu kucheza, kumsifu na kuomba siku zote hii ni sifa yao ya Kiswahili;
09/22/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
from anthology "Swahili Praise"
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
bongo, appreciation, community, endurance, engagement,
Form:
Lyric
Oh, hear the rattle of the rolling train;
yhe clap…clap…clacking rhythm,
beating like a conga drum;
every trip it sings along,
with the tracks repeating song;
such simple, inexpensive music.
Listen to that music,
of the heart-beat, of the train.
Sing along, with its melodious song.
Come, join in the rhythm;
don’t you love, to sing along;
with the clack..clack…chugging, of that rolling drum.
Run and grab your bongo drums;
we’ll play a little music.
A grand neighborhood, sing-along,
to the rhythm of the train.
Oh, what a wondrous rhythm,
is the old, Iron Horse’s song.
In the heart’s, always a song;
the body’s beating drum.
It keeps on pounding out its rhythm;
the heart beats of its Chrystal music;
beats with tempo of the train’
just clap…clap…clacking, on along.
All the people sing along,
with the old Iron Horse’s thrilling songs.
If with instruments, you’re untrained;
perhaps you do not own a drum.
Still, you can join the music;
just clap your hands in rhythm.
Revel in that rhythm,
sing and play along.
Just be part of the music
and belt out your own song,
to your own heart’s rhythm
and that musical old train.
Lighten up that rhythm and revel in the music.
Have a glorious, sing-along, to the many beating drums.
There’s nothing quite as joyous, as the songs sung with the trains.
9-9-19
Your Choice Max 333 Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Categories:
bongo, imagery, life, poems, poetry,
Form:
Sestina
Oh No! Oh No! What has my son done? I hope it’s, not already to late!
He lives at a fraternity house, and surely, you know THAT intense mental state.
March has St. Patrick’s Day, Spring Break, and has, of course, Easter in it, too.
So they decided to have some great fun, yes, a fun filled month to happily ensue.
They invited a Leprechaun, the Easter Bunny, and the king of bongos, a gnome.
Apparently they convinced everyone it’d be more fun, to Simply… Stay… Home.
The whole campus flooded thru that fraternity house, in the party’s that ensued.
And they convinced the Easter Bunny to do jello shots in every color and hue.
He became known as THE BUN, yes, The One who finally, truly could fly…
And the Leprechaun danced till he dropped… to a great bongo serenade, aye.
There was no SIMPLY about this! As the music rocked the frat house, next door.
And girls were seen coming and going, at all hours, even passed out on the floor.
This was the party no one missed… even the frat house with the snobs, were there.
It’s said even some of the President’s security attended, partying there, somewhere.
Before they were done, a plan was sown, as the gnome found it’s yearly, new home.
Yes, it got there, in Washington somehow, on the top of the Real ‘White House’ Dome.
But along the way THE BUN was lost… some where along the never-ending roads.
The Leprechaun called me, our Dragons and Trolls, to help, to search the highroads.
The poor little guy was so pie eyed, when we found him along that crazy way, so…
We fixed him up, we didn’t give up, until we could send him, into that Easter Frey.
Categories:
bongo, adventure, easter, fantasy, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
The cow was playing cowbells,
Giddy Goat joined in on his guitar,
The horse was hoofing bongo drums.
Animals started coming from afar.
The chicken clucked an egg out,
Pig was oinking right in time,
Duck was tinkling on her triangle
While dog was hammering on his chime.
Pussy picked up her piccolo,
Goose was flapping on his flute,
Donkey brayed on a big trombone,
It really was a farmyard hoot!
-more poems like this can be found at:
kidscomedypoetry.com.au
Categories:
bongo, kids, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
The earth knows your business child;
there's nothing anonymous ...
about alcohol.
Them drunks like to show off ...
yes, they like to show their strength.
They beat women like bongo drums.
Them gal down at the factories,
they love a man on cannabis;
a mellow man -
in a constant mellow mood,
always hungry for good food
and a good cook.
Their pencils are always sharpened,
ready to write -
in rain, sun, or sleet;
Not so with them funky drunks,
theirs are more eraser and less lead.
they'll erase even wet dreams,
their pencils are nothing but dead,
carcasses for the crows.
Write love on puffs of cannabis clouds
just like Nesta Marley did.
How bloody is Mary
after glasses of your spirit poured out?
love is forever yours Mary Jane,
my darling and consort.
A finger will never hurt thee.
Categories:
bongo, funnylove,
Form:
Free verse
#33
the moon falls west-ward
the tule fog saunters east
summer ends early
New Siblings
puppy petite gold
bouncing around black dog's space
I know you’re in love
#25
Swimming in spring fog
wind plucked guitar string in time
Tule music plays
Fog
fog braised Fillmore
ready for full moon to wane
while waiting for Jack
Dreams while Sleeping #2
when I piss in dark
All my prayers are sombreros
night of a new moon
Wake up Calls
first chirp of the morn
different from dog barking
five better than four
Midnight Ride
some full moon wheeling
search werewolves in the quag
Robin Hood’s fire
Unnecessary Student Loans
lifestyle to uphold
says I to financial aid
just give me the loan
English Dept. Building
walk paper footsteps
through hallowed hollow hallways
already relics
Jesi Naomi
tuba bongo blues
like a freight train serenade
echoes in the night
New York Fall
tinged purple and red
nothing to rhyme with orange
rolling New York hills
Gutter Glitter
lock jaw by myself
keep me imprisoned for hours
mumbling into phone
Danny West
it's raining outside
but I'm frying potatoes
the all-night kitchen
Closing Time
staring at my beer
one blue bird in the rafters
too it's closing time
Good Witch
She has rings and bows
She has glasses full of hours
Honey from the bee
Categories:
bongo, adventure, america, beauty, bird,
Form:
Haiku