Best Calibre Poems
I have a dearest sweet friend
my love and gratitude to her of no end
She is of great beauty and deep truth
to send me her Love in a gift of youth
How would I conceive my very age
When deep inside young in every stage.
I have a dearest sweet friend
my love and gratitude to her of no end
A tethered soul of depth and harmony
with gifts of compassion and fervency
How would my soul age with time
when the finest of her words in my heart rhyme.
I have a dearest sweet friend
my love and gratitude to her of no end
Music in her roots and in her veins
a winged mind, an entranced soul that never wanes
How would souls shrink and wrinkle
when in dark times, her stars wink and twinkle.
I have a dearest sweet friend
my love and gratitude to her of no end
A seeker of Light, a solid spirit, a time traveler
a poetess of grandeur, a human nature of calibre.
How would I in humble words render pure an emotion
to a lady I’m honoured to befriend and ink my recognition.
To my dearest friend, Maria Williams
Dearest Maria, these are but so humble words disabled in the presence of a great Lady, a beautiful mind and a tender heart..
Deeply grateful for ever lending a huge compassionate heart.. allowing your insight to connect and flow its Light.. spreading the scent of your generosity to let other souls inhale beauty, health, wealth and growth...
Thank you so much for your Love and gift of youth.
Who am I to stop you if you resolve to kill yourself?
But before you quit the game, roll the dice one last time.
What have you seen in your life till now?
Did you perceive the sweetness of first love?
Have you kissed those first rain drops that come to greet you after a hot summer?
Have you hugged your proud mother who is overwhelmed at your success?
Did you ever wipe the tears of your best friend?
Have you ever enjoyed a road trip with a gang of strangers?
Did you take care of your sick parents and see them recovering?
Have you ever helped a person in need and see his eyes twinkle?
Did your strawberry lips suck the mellowness of a first kiss?
Have you ever felt the joy of hugging your friend after a big fight?
Go ahead and empty those pills into your stomach
Your body turns cold in a snap leaving your people dumbstruck.
But before you do that, think if you have brought any difference
with your mettle and perseverance
Before you slip out,
Embrace the joy of answering those who doubted your calibre.
Soothe the shivers that ran down your spine and witness your own valor.
Fall down and experience the joy of rising up.
Receive respect from those who once ridiculed you.
Hug the momentary darkness to witness the light of a happening tomorrow.
If your instinct still asks you to abscond,
remember that there's only one life and nothing can be done going beyond.
Bring me a cup of Java, honey, and put some coffee in the water, will you?...
Whoa there! Bet you can feel the withering sarcasm in that simple phrase...
People, I welcome you to the world of crime novels by James Hadley Chase...
With cryptic titles like I'll Bury My Dead, it's a crime novel befitting even the dead...
The protagonists in every novel, Mr Chase humanized each of them in good stead...
As a crime writer, Mr Chase has no master, or even an equal of his calibre...
Dialogues, suave and cultured or in the low life lingo, is excellence beyond compare...
Most of all, the many believable twists and turns in every one of his crime story...
You'll empathise with the hero and the heroine, and root for them in each story...
What Is Better Than Money is yet another master yarn uniquely spun by Mr Chase...
About how a piano player bidding time tangled with a junky beauty with trilling vocals ....
It is amazing how you will identify with the struggling two bit piano player as he grapples...
With the opportunity of a lifetime to hitch his economic wagon on a less than perfect starlet..
In No Orchids For Miss Blandish, I remember rereading the same book twice over...
To be thrilled and to savour how the master story teller spun the story altogether...
Mind you, I was back then just a little boy, given access to the senior section of the library..
Faced with rows and decks of all kind of books, I was a bewildered boy lost in the library...
Then I spied a rather worn out hard cover book entitled No Orchids for Miss Blandish...
Small in print, yellowed in pages and looked slightly misbegotten, but the title intrigued..
Reaching home, I could not put down the book once I started reading that slim book...
I was thrilled, I was truly engrossed in a fascinating tale of crime found within a book...
Etched in my memory to this day, I recall vividly the awe and the joy in novels by Mr Chase...
Little wonder through the years I often read and reread crime novels spun by Mr Chase...
James Hadley Chase, crime story teller supreme, without any cheap graphic x rated scenes...
He is the ultimate maestro for story characters and crime tales that electrify your senses...
Readers, Mr James Hadley Chase, he's The Man for grippping realistic crime stories....!!!
In war, no glory confides absolutely.
Or is resolute in its righteousness.
Its essence holds no certainties nor goal...nor future.
Clear objectives fade... Justification merely a work in progress.
Clandestine agendas drive enmity across air, sea, sand and meadow.
Misdirected.
Towards an enemy, unseen in tradition and culture.
Unknown, but reassuringly dangerous, a hive, confronting and threatening civilisation...
In the name of humanity...
No epic fanfares grill the blood of Hollywood romanticists,
Corrupted stars play out their scenes alone,
Through haunting canons,
And anthems of resounding calibre,
Without script and with most terrifying action.
Out of depth, out of body, into quagmire.
Confusion, comforted only by sterile demands,
Hollow victories,
Fallen...then...
Turmoil.
Lies perpetuate.
Comrades congratulate. Celebrate!
Lending solace to advocate horror, between initiate and tormented alike.
Through the soft, sweet lulls of passive exchange or the emphatic silence of success,
Numbness cradles contemplation.
Enveloping.
A ritual, deep and staring...a piercing, twisting...
Stark realisation!
Past actions, past faces,
Passed lives...
Humanity.
Recoiling...sickening...putrefying...
Wallowing amongst the ranks of brothers and sisters,
Nourishing avarice,
Dwelling in 'diplomatic' palaces and stately hideaways.
Inflating egos and balances from the dividends of limbs and bowel.
The truth gnawing, knowing and growing....
Overwhelming.
Prolapse of mind.
Prizing an unworthy soul...only to abandon.
Swirling vistas of such sweetness found floating through the auspian air ~
Pen to pad calibre idioms beyond the verbs measuring these tidewater inkwells aside
Beauties, evergreen genetives in red, white and pinks, pronounced; Camelots dreams....
Testimonials of daybreak amid the pacific keynotes?!
Her ambient adverb treasures, gently washing upon the shore inside, my thirsting soul ~
These syntax reasonings postulating now their exotic gatherings; stencils
Moonstruck truths at contemporaries point break; subverting the translucent waves
Amplified currents in forms approaching this high tides, ecliptic heart....
Shadows once shimmering their syllables of review; now, a nouns verse!?
Swirling my spirit deep inside this melding aqua paragraphs, seaside melodies; rhymes
In literatures pacific daybreak keynotes ~
Postulating Moonstruck testimonials; syntax reasons floating through the air of this, loves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Comtemporary Romance Novel?!"
"Night Flight"
the sky is
an open eye
blue as the
Orpheus ocean
clear in the
shallows' grit
naivety irritates it
birthing hard gems
it calls in
from beneath
the undertow
a new dawn
Morpheus deep
bipolar colours
unrecognisable
hues and tones
true tides
swiftly turn and
show themselves
for what they are
fair weather
in dark and light
there are monsters
always somewhere
casting their rods
fishing
for ulterior victory
displeased,
viscerally calm
hear their believable
impassioned pleas for peace
bought for the price
of freedom
there is no need
to bargain for bait
the fish swim to the hook
like well rehearsed sheep
the sky like a hawk watching
grey and heavy hooded
removed from it all
ghostly like a ghost
still and unobserved
watching, waiting
for humanity to call
the most feared
and loved,
in us all
it watches
day and night
it watches
us all
acknowledging
our slow fall
watching sad warriors
waiting
like sitting ducks
for the perfect storm
to close the call
to close
its eyelids
once and for all
the sky watches
it watches us all
it dreams of peace
to sleep without
the heart loaded
as a broken weapon
trigger ready, deadly
the calibre
of man,
well oiled
their noise is
desultory
no function
no form
but they are trigger ready
deadly, the calibre of man
well oiled
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Nite Flights"/Bowie
https://youtu.be/xeGs4yJrZVY
"There's no hold
The moving has come through
The danger brushing you
Turns its face into the heat and runs the tunnels
It's so cold
The dark dug up by dogs"
CLOSE THE SKY/Ukraine
https://www.openpetition.eu/petition/online/people-around-the-world-ask-nato-to-close-the-airspace-over-ukraine
calibre, noun
1.
the quality of someone's character or the level of their ability.
2.
the internal diameter or bore of a gun barrel.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orpheus
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpheus
LYRICS/ "Night Flights", Bowie
https://genius.com/David-bowie-nite-flights-lyrics
Being an introvert is not a crime
does not mean ones soul is dark
something that we all should keep in mind,
People you need to grow up,
bullying is what you do
no guys please, I beg you!
Being an Introvert does not mean you know nothing
and people who think this, definitely their minds are rusting,
Let them tease, you know you are a star and stars do shine,
Don't have a friend?
darling it's fine,
Don't give a damn about what people say,
empty brains speak stupid,why should you care?
Speak up, open your mouth!
show them, shout out loud,
it's okay if your voice is low
dosen't reach people?
wait till you're ready to show.
Being an Introvert is not a crime,
you have a lot of calibre
it's just time,
a little more time and they all will be stunned
by things you'll do,
just wait for your turn and their egos to burn.
The world will never stop hurting
and this is for sure,
but you can start thinking and find a cure,
never be a renegade,
and remember that success is not only about getting grades.
Nobler are our teachers,
Abler are our Counsellers,
Calibre is the trait of the taught,
Sober taughts-begotten is the sobriquet
Of our Almamater's lot!
Call me what you may
Call me what you may, A dog, a scavenger
Or even the dirty pig, but that is way too far
From transfiguring my appearance, call me
What you may even the worst pun but ado
Comes on and change my affectionate deed
Call me anything that cross your minds and
Able to pronounce, even the most unbearable
Creature you sort crawls on earth and see if
I die for it won’t be affecting my breathing in
And out... the routine will still go on and on
It is most than injudicious to call me a wild beast
Whilst everyone witty calls me THE ADONIS ONE
I won’t blame you for calling me a nitwit for your
Brains are too weak and needs a fully qualified
Mental practitioner to examine its functions awry
Will they not call you a dead mental deranged
One for pointing tosh on a figure of classy calibre
How happy I am to meet a nefarious fool, who does
Not praise what is worth just like the fool in the
Beauty and the beast who takes his life for a shot
I do not even mind to living in the same galaxy
With a dirty minded day dreamer who always see
Bad over good deeds and spoil my benedictions
Of splendid manners. Just call me what you may
And check if I will hate you for your blind minds.
Robert Musiiwa Mharadze
’Twas about eight o’clock,
And I dreaded the knock,
The Carollers of pure light,
With such Christian might.
They were to be an example,
To my atheistically driven amble,
To encourage me to sing along,
In next years Christmas song.
My age and so my friends,
My calibre was not my ends,
So I didn’t come out my room,
Until nine o’clock did loom.
They grinned and laughed,
Evangelically so dashed,
But I kept my self dignity,
For no more ambiguity.
I never sang the next year,
With them, crooked in fear,
Awkwardly standing open,
Maybe to fall over stricken.
There was a disabled person,
At church, same condition,
But he was never normal,
As I was when informal.
Hymns never relaxed me,
Just petrified a lover to be,
So to demand on me disability,
Would’ve been inhumanity.
They talked to me at church,
About why I’d left in the lurch,
Families who wished a song,
Would in spirit come along.
So I just got over them,
Allegations and their stem,
Which set them up above,
The things that I do so love.
As the pride of our continent
rolls out her drum of independence
With great achievements clearly evident ;
to groove an extreme life of Indulgence
She blows the trumpet from her resident
Once enslaved,now liberated
She dances ethusiastically in triumph
Her vigour and victory no longer defeated;
Gradually as she outgrows her nymph
and mounts up on platform elevated
Her days ahead are even more green
Though now myopic to see the Big screen
She'll win her spurs if only we get really keen;
and quit venting on her our spleen
but esteem her as a Queen
blame her not for the on-goings in her abode
nor openly tag her good-for-nothing dry bone
encourage her instead to keep up with the high-way code;
and she'll sooner become the chief corner stone
yelling out in a more cheerful tone
Call her not a nonentity
for she firmly stands as a true identity
she yearns for true diplomats to uphold her dignity;
as she gradually unfolds her creative ability
to nurture heroes of her nativity
I mean Her, our country NIGERIA
a nation envied from afar by foreigners
endowed with so great a treasure on every area;
birthing diverse calibre of World-class designers
Hoist the Flag as you go for Goals,NIGERIA!
It is easy for ones confidence to be dented
Doubting self belief and ability
Amongst the calibre of masterful wordsmiths
Writing exceptional poetry
If doubt takes hold ….one must remember
Each poet is unique, thus writes differently
‘As is our likes and dislikes’
In this special world of poetry
When will the cuts end?
An end to austerity seems further than the rainbow
And its dulling rays affect the nation
Increasing stress, pain and sleep deprivation
But it must be done they say
As if all will be well soon
With millions cast in doom and gloom
The hard working families, the deserving poor
Debt is their burden so tax them more!
But stop!
“The banks are revenue generating
So income tax would be self-flagellating”
“Tell you what, this is what we'll do
Close a library, end free food”
Balance the books, metaphorically speaking,
For at this rate our children wont have a Larkin
and an end will come to laughing
But they know best!
Sacrifices must be made
Allowances must be paid
The highest calibre of candidate
(An illegitimate mandate)
A double dip crisis causing the elite
as much trouble as a unreserved seat
On the roller-coaster of benefit
Brace yourself for another fall!
I am fire cooked in the belly of a barrel
An inferno like a messenger of death from hell
Somersaulting like a ninja assassin wilding his sword unsheathed
With double edged precision and ill intent unleashed
In my clear trajectory I target any would be shot stopper
I spit fatality and finality, I am the showstopper
There lies power in the pull of a trigger
An on/off switch of life at the tip of a finger
I entre the air with a loud Bang!
I express death like a bulletin
Collide and split air molecules with gun powder
15 calibre to penetrate fragile body armour
I shoot off my mouth like a machine gun
Two syllables, death by numbers, one by one
I recoil on my words like a liar, then silence
Steal lives and leave behind bullet clips
I laugh at your gun laws
I am the Lord of all wars
Gun Play in the Meat Locker
At the bottom in the Mexican bay rests a 22 calibre pistol,
it is in a box and the box is in a plastic bag that moves
with the tide; the gun was mine I had bought it in Galveston.
I had been obsessed with firearms lately, needed a shooter
but didn´t want to buy one bulky cannon difficult to hide,
it was easy to purchase came in a box six bullets included.
Back on board and with trembling hands I placed the gun
inside the frozen carcass of a sheep and tried to sleep.
Night in the bay of Mexico I took the pistol up on the deck
and said. ”bang, bang you are dead. Put the gun back in
Its box and the box in a plastic bag and threw it overboard.
It was a beautiful night and I was free of my obsession with
firearms they make me nervous and I´m satisfied to know
I was not born to be a gunslinger called Morgan Kane.