Best Bora Poems
Days of children's innocence
Have gone a shade of grey
By a society focused on the senses
Overpowering the need for spiritual higher grade
As self gratification has become its trend
Homes, empty, gone to silence
Parents gone to pursue their agenda
Children have become orphans
Rely on TV, movies, games for stamina
Where is Bora Bora, they have no notion.
Growing up with a new kind of parents
Holding in their hand, the remote control
Feeding on the degrading fashions and trends
Eating chips and exercising thumbs like robots
Can't spell a word, but can cuss at length.
It is high time to wake up
To this sad reality, with a world
That shows such terrifying stunts
That offer little hope to unfurl
Let us chase the sunlight before tomorrow's up.
By CarolineCécile
Copyright 05.07.11
What Might They Find There
If someone was to look there
deep into my soul
They would find a bucket list that looks like an ancient scroll
The list of things of my heart's desires
1. To see the amazing Effie tower
Number two would be so grand
2. Camp on Seven Mile Beach toes deep in the sand
Three would make me a little insane
3. Run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain
Four is a long life fantasy indeed
4. Take a selfie at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Italy
Five is for certain
5. I'd love to Ride a camel in Petra, Jordan
Six would be some what of a hassle
6. Learn to fly fish at Inverlochy Castle
Seven should be on a high demand
7. Sip coffee at Nishinomaru Garden in Japan
Eight would light up my aura
8. Get a massage in Bora Bora
Nine Is a Beauty that not many know
9. To go deep in Naica mine in Mexico
Ten sends my soul a fantastic chill
10. To See Christ the Redeemer (statue) – Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
9-16-2016
KANGA BORA MARI YA ABDALLA
After graduation son of Walla
i lived at a coastal town
where the people so hated the warmth..
they chose to move at nite
in the clothes they were born with..
Son of Walla i was dismayed
I called myself to counsel
and decreed a holy decree
son of my mother
i would not let this profanity- continue
Son of walla i took up a whip
and whip them i did son of walla...
Urging them with strokes of the whip
to know the need- value of clothing up
many a wild lass recieved... strokes of the cane
Son of Walla i brought back respect
to a people who walked unclad
Son of Walla i geuss i did good
Mari ya Abdalla they called me...zealot..
some sneered behind my back.. but manners
imade sure they were taught
at the crack of the whip.. male and female
they feared me.. or was it my whip
son of walla i changed life for a lost people
Kanga Boora Mari ya Abdalla
ubora wa sitara ndo wema wa sitara
that was my message
delivered to a people
who felt warmth
instead of feeling manners
Où allons nous? Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Where are we going” by T. Wignesan
Ils sont venus dans une petite ville
Une bande à moitié nue soumise silencieuse
Tout ce qui restait de leur tribu.
Ils sont venus à leur vieux territoire bora
Où beaucoup d’hommes blancs maintenant vont et viennent
comme des fourmis.
La pancarte de l’agent immobilier dit: “Il est permis de jeter
des ordures ici.”
Maintenant les ordures couvrent plus que la moitié du cercle
de bora.
“Nous sommes maintenant comme des étrangers, mais la
tribu blanche est en réalité des étrangers.
La terre nous appartient, sommes nous les héritiers des
vieilles coutumes.
Nous sommes la corroboree* et la terre bora.
Nous sommes de vieux rites, les lois de nos aïeux.
Nous sommes des contes des émerveilles du Temps de Rêves,
des légendes racontées de tribus.
Nous sommes le passé, les chasses et les jeux qui nous font rire, les feux allumés autour de nos campements ici et là.
Nous sommes des éclairs sur la Colline Graphemba
Eclatants et effrayants,
Et le Tonnerre venant après lui, ce gars bruyant.
Nous sommes le lever du soleil silencieux
Illuminant pas à pas la lagune enterrée par la nuit.
Nous sommes des ombres-épouvantes revenant
subrepticement aux feux de campement qui
s’éteignent doucement.
Nous sommes la Nature et le Passé, tout ce qui comporte nos
vieilles traditions
Maintenant en train de disparaître ici et là.
Les broussailles sont détruites, ainsi la chasse et la
rire.
L’aigle, lui, est déjà parti, l’émeu et le kangourou ont aussi quitté les lieux.
Le cercle du bora a disparu.
La corroborée a disparue.
Et nous sommes en train de disparaître.
*An Australian Aboriginal dance ceremony which may take the form of a sacred ritual or an informal gathering. 'Aborigines living in the coastal Kimberley region of Australia's top end sometimes dance a corroboree re-enacting the arrival of dingoes to Australia. (Oxford English Dictionary)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Now comes the wind,
stealth like creeper whispering
venting in the shadowy image of the trees.
A calm soft breeze easing in at first,
a sojourner on the bland gray skies,
dim lit end of winter's call, marching winds.
Rising high up in the atmosphere
dropping down as if a bird of prey
eyeing some tantalizing delights.
Breathless mistral bora chilling the air
swooping in unsuspected xlook
tantalizing the coastal seas to rise;
Breathe, taking in a sirocco
as it slips and slides north and east
riding zephyr upon the ocean currents.
To land across the distant horizon
snaking, weaving, twisting along the foamy waves
to touch the earth, twirl it up, down prairie mountain forests.
Now comes the wind
unseen figure spread wide and thin
catabatic current fleetings, scouring the earth.
It’s deeper than words, for she arose more glorious -n- prettier than any earthly rose, 4 I lay with inside her pink abode, it’s deeper than life, -n- more intricate than when day meets night, she redefines thy touch, sound -n- sight, she’ll shut down social media, can’t find her name nowhere in the Bible or in the Encyclopedia, Bora, Bora, La France, Tahiti, Sukhumi, her silhouette shades me, bathing me in the depths of the Black Sea, clouds boiling, the rain pouring on me, gold grails -n- silver jorums of thy welkins, lordly pukka tea, honey straight from the hives of bees, thy branch of brown bark, no trees, 4 she’s only connected to me, thy pistil bearing, sensitive, delicate, distaff, her beauty, God created thy sight just 2 see, her unveiled vanity, a gem foreign to this without a heart -n-soul galaxy, it’s deeper than words, it’s so much deeper than life, visualize the sun in the sky shining at night, with diamonds -n- rubies dancing, bursting, taking flight, reflecting a greater light, she feels of a sultry ice, she taste of a stupendous spice, while her vanity redesigns -n- redefines thy sound -n- sight, she’s deeper than words, she’s deeper than life, 4 a lack of a better word, she’s my God sketched sight, she’s my wife, 2 describe her it’s deeper than words, it’s deeper than life.
Lucifer is jealous
4 his wife left his ass
2 enjoy this sight, it’s
Deeper than words, it’s deeper
Than life
Heavy reading glasses
Thick dark eye lashes
Braced lined white teeth
Staring quietly on a seat
Easy humor your simple style
Yet, it touch me for long time
Sharp witty conversations
Invited me with no hesitations
Chin high - up so I could see
A tall man in wearing a tee
He is addicted to coffee and tea
Busy always with papers and fees
Yet, underneath a beautiful aura
A man who loves to jam in Bora
Respectable and gentle to his moves
Adoringly, how he manage to groove
By: olive_eloi
6:18pm
02/04/2014
+-----------------+---+++
"BORA" - shortened word of the place BORACAY, a popular world-class beach in the Philippines
-- Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You --swahili
Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
Hakuna mtu anayeweza kuwa bora zaidi kuliko wewe;
Hakuna mtu anayeweza kupamba uzuri wako;
Milele, hivyo kukumbatia;
Na kama upendo kwamba baada yako;
Tafuta Baba
Tafuta Baba
Baba kumpa moja
M imi ndimi huyo;
Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
Ku Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
kupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
Kukupenda wewe Loving you Loving You
Na ikiwa ningeweza kuwa kama unataka;
Nami nitakuwa zaidi ya unahitaji;
Kila kudumu, hivyo kukubali kama mimi kukumbatia wewe
Kukupenda wewe
Kukupenda wewe
Pamoja kama sisi wawili ..
Tafuta Baba, (wote pamoja)
Wewe na mimi kwa upendo
Wewe na mimi wenzi wa roho (wote pamoja)
Kutafuta Baba
Kuwa milele, hivyo kukubali sisi mbili
Milele kukumbatia sisi kufanya
08/29/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
From anthology “A LOVE FOR YOU”
Along shores and the rolling hills
Circles of lightnings keep their vigil
Thunder dressed in curtains of rain
Lashed by the giant Luma the great.
Red shades of the blood wood tree
Colouring the waters of twilight pools
In dreamtime where battles commence
Between the turtle and the sea sprite
Black bird mistletoed in land of bush
Where bora the hawk comes to rescue.
There the spiders in their noontide
Of dilly bags protected by crocodiles
Engaging in war with the malunga trees
Aided by snakes of red smeared manes
In conjunctions with powers of a shaman.
Stealing reflections of the stars
In the constellation of the Aquela
Blackened by barigu and mimi spirits
Where ginga the python raises its tail
And touches the skies in powered gait.
Do not go out
It is the season of howling winds.
HAIL THEE OSAMA, NOT !
I cry your demise, Oh dear Osama
For you live not long to be a saint
From The sour fruits you sow since the decades
Just yesterday, your elder was blessed
John was called, Oh dear Pope John
Beatified for life of a flock-Sherperd
That never canibalized upon the flocks
In peace he leads, in reality he preached
The world to turn a new image
What was your motive then? Bn
Progress for humanity or long live to the Qur'ans Sharia?
Who live to rule the other? Humans or faith?
Learn where you got it wrong, Mujaheddin
On your second coming, dare not evil
Never dwell in tora bora!
Bear with men and learn
If only you care to the core
We should have crave your mercy
As sympathizers
Apostles to Jesus, harmless merciful talibans
Yet I admire you a lot, I adore you
Its works of a mad courage to stand alone
And existed as the odd for this long
So your sainthood days shall come
For my joy to call you Prophet Bn Osama
I pray thee peace, I call the true warrior
For the bad memories that haunts me always
Never to forget, till you exist no more.
On the isle of Bora Bora
Ancient are the crafts that lie there.
White beaches beckon those who linger
and those who taste the salty air.
I met a girl there on that island.
Later she became my wife.
Now aged and wrinkled yet still a beauty
my companion for all my life.
Now our grand sons, four moreover
dig sand fleas on that lovely shore.
They play with them a while, then release,
only to hunt, and catch a few more.
My hotel keeps me surviving.
It does more than keep me afloat.
I have time for fun and relaxation
aboard my golf Cart, car or boat.
Bora-Bora seemed exotic
Bali and Mal -- tempting,erotic
The Arctic tundra, far away
The Congo, steamy: Stay away...
Now the world has shrunken so
No place is too far to go
That Star is but a parsec near
Time to go; my ride is here
I lay in my frozen bed, teeth ruthlessly chattering.
Intense darkness made me rise and stretch a bit.
The useless coverlet hardly warmed my shoulders,
As from outside thunder boomed and rattled panes.
An electric storm evolved into terrible lightening,
Flashes that threatened destruction, yet I looked out.
Icicles hung along the wires and ledges all around.
Down below the bora-like gale even uprooted some trees.
Not a vehicle was in sight, all returned to their homes.
But what is home without heat? Might as well try an igloo.
It’s warmer and full of shelter there I’m sure.
Talkin bout 'Ahunda,
Talkin bout 'Ahunda,
Talkin bout 'Ahunda;
Mtu huyu huko na suti ya kijivu cha flannel;
Yeye huko juu na takataka ya kuzungumza kwa kinywa hizNi jivin kufikiriNi yeye ni mzuri sana;
Na kumchukua dada huyo huko, yeah man i mean yea yeye ni mzuri na mzuri;
Lakini yeye daima anafadhili baadhi ya ndugu fedha na talkin nothN wakati wote
Kidogo giza mpendwa wa Afrika Upendo Mtoto
Talkin bout, talkin bout unajua nini
Ahunda
Talkin bout 'Ahunda,
Talkin bout 'Ahunda,
Talkin bout 'Ahunda;
Lakini hey, Bobby kuchukua dude huyo amesimama karibu;
Wakati talkin bout Ahunda kila mtu hana tu kusikia sauti;
Hatua mbaya, aibu majadiliano mwenye maumivu;
Ana mpango bora zaidi Amani na kuokoa Ardhi ...
Yeye ni mdogo kuliko wote na yeye ni mrefu sana;
Talkin bout Ahunda;
Sasa kukimbia kuwaambia kwamba anajua wapi;
Alizaliwa Marekani mama yake alikuwa Mfrika;
Talkin bout Ahunda, talkin bout Ahunda;
Talkin bout Ahunda, talkin bout Ahunda;
Talkin bout Ahunda;
Hivi karibuni kuwa Mtawala wa kabila lake la asili wakati atakuwa mtu
Talkin bout, talkin bout Ahunda
Sema sasa ndugu kuangalia kwamba paka hii ina uhakika ni safi;
Talkin bout Ahunda;
Anatembea kama mazungumzo kama paka ya kibinadamu;
Yeye ni Mama mbaya sana aliyewahi kuona;
Big Bore in Bora Bora
Saw lovely lady called incredible Dora
Who was met by me in Bora Bora
The biggest bore I must have been;
Didn't want to see me again.
Now a new poem you can begin
Even if written by women or men
Why think of selling someone short
Other women should offer support.
All right with Albright.
Jim Horn
Saw lovely lady called incredible Dora
Who was met by me in Bora Bora
The biggest bore I must have been;
Didn't want to see me again.
Now a new poem you can begin
Even if written by women or men
Why think of selling someone short
Other women should offer support.