Best Cas Poems


Premium Member Cas Tim Jan and Me

You have all heard I am sure of the three musketeers
The group with the swords not the ones with the funny ears

Reminds me of a joke that right here would apply
There are three kinds of people I tell you no lie
Those who are really quite good at math
And those who are not and that's that

They were the three musketeers but they were four
Their math was bad not three, four and no more
I hope you're all still with me, I'm not trying to be a pest
I need you to follow me because at the end there's a test

There is Casarah 
Yeah and hurrah
She is a good ma

Then there is Tim
You should know him
He's tall and trim

And  finally there is the kind hearted Jan
From England she's the one with no tan
Coy and demure behind her fancy fan
 
 If you kept count that makes three
Who can argue. You'd have to agree.
Now we have arrived at what I am trying to say
I've just joined them and I quite enjoy sword play

Do you see? I am number four.
I'll just walk through their door.
That makes me the best, the fillet mignon
It turns  out that I am frikin'  D'Artagnan.

It Is Not With These Eyes That I Have Loved You

My beloved

It may be

that I would never 

get the chance

to look you in the eyes

within this life 

But remember..

It is not with these eyes 

that I have loved you

Nor with my kiss or with this skin

I have loved you

With my way of being without you

With keep on being who we  used to be

and of who we would never become

My beloved

It is not with these eyes 

that I have loved you

Nor with my kiss or with this skin

I loved you in ways

only you would understand

Cause only you have loved me

in the same way tthat I did

Or maybe even more.



Missing you! 



Inspired by Jan's and Cas' 'Miss you poems'
and musing thoughts.

The Days of the Knights Shape

.                  Back in
                the days of
               the  Knights
               Lack          of
                           wood to
                           cook food
                         would, leave
                         a  Knight not
                        able to fight, or
                        not as right as
                        a knight should
                           They'd say                     xxxxxxxxxxxx
                       "That knight's in                ooooooooooooo
                     a daze!" So on those           day's they would
             cut wood. They would  call them  the wood cut days
            I suppose as rightly they should!    It came  to pass
           one "wood  cut  day"  The cas-         tle came under
          attack The Knights were dazed              all  night
         they    say When even a snack,                they
       would      lack! The fair maid-                      en
     needed       wood for her stove
    To get           the knights head
  back in           place.  That's why
  when             he  said,   "I've got
 xxxxxxx        wood!" She would glow
   xxxxx        with a  smile  on her face!
    ***        She cooked up a most bounti-
      x         ful meal.  After they ate,  they
      x        fought so hard, The  Knights  with
      x      no daze were winner's. The wood then
      x       stood high in                     regard! The
      x         moral of the                       story is this,
      x          When quelling                   Knights needs,
      x           make no mis-                    takes. You can
      x            ask any blush-                   ing maiden, the 
      x       difference some                       good  wood makes!
© Pat Adams  Create an image from this poem.


February Snow

Whiteout in my gape
Floating open space in forest glades 
The shadow is cast shape
Catch'ng images of silver shades
Facing the brouhaha as snow cas·cades

From the lots of God's cast
In the·at·rics with clime win·try 
Inside tempo garden of blizz blast
Sound of silence in graupel glows with glee
As it does now to me

Premium Member Le Probleme Avec Des Blancs - Translation of Jim Everett's the White Man Problem By T Wignesan

Le Problème avec des Blancs – Translation of Jim Everett’s « The White Man Problem » by T. Wignesan

(Jim Everett, Mawbana Pleregannana, b. 1942 on Flinders Island, Tasmania, has had a chequered career and like almost all the aboriginal poets and writers in English of the first post-WWII generation, hardly made it over the primary school curricula. He’s a poet, playwright and essayist (short articles). Among the jobs he tried his hand at : telegram boy, factory hand, fisherman, merchant seaman, rigger, truck driver, public servant, aboriginal community worker and political activist. He was the national secretary of the National Aboriginal and Islander Writers Oral Literature and Dramatists Association.) T. Wignesan, Paris, December 15, 2016  


Des aborigènes ayant lutté ne cessent de perdre.
L’homme blanc est venu pour répandre son fléau,
Ils ont apporté leurs droits que nous n’avons pas choisis.
Nous ne pouvons pas contrôler cette chose qui nous étouffe,
Malgré cet obstacle nous devons nous faire avancer
Et nous devons aussi rester fidèle à nos croyances dans leurs 
         évolution,
Dans l’espoir que l’attitude des blancs va se diminuer.


Des hommes blancs ne s’intéressent pas à comprendre nos 
         traditions,
Ils pensent que leur technologie est la meilleure solution pour 
         l’homme.
Et ils persistent à nous faire renoncer à nos coutumes ancestrales
Et leur ‘civilisation’ continue à nous nous faire soumettre.
Ils ne voient pas à quel point ils ont tort,
Etant aveuglés par la gloire et le pouvoir.
Leur pouvoir les empêche à distinguer le vrai but de la vie,
Ainsi créant le problème des hommes blancs qui nous rende 
          amers. 
 

Les problèmes des blancs s’avèrent être l’avarice et le viol,
Et leurs dix commandements qu’ils désobéissent à volonté.
Pour quelle raison ont-ils des telles lois s’ils ne peuvent pas les  
            suivre,
C’est toujours le cas des tous les blancs.
La réponse devrait se trouver dans le fait de leur pouvoir,
Exploitant d’autres pauvres blancs sans défense parmi eux.
L’histoire de l’homme blanc se résume à : chacun pour soi-même,
Que le problème de l’homme blanc n’est guère confiné à la 
           couleur de sa peau.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016.
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

My Drunken Pen

Oh,no!not again,my book is in a mess.vomits of inks all over my notes.
My pen is drunk again.Stench!,stench of vomits everywhere.As it wobbles
from line one to line four...No!no matter what I must finish this piece,so
that I can have peace.I`m writing a Sedoka to  a wonderful damsel and....
the ground is spinning,I`m feeling very dizzy; Hiccups.....hic...cups this is 
frustrating,oh! it`s not me,it`s my pen....then I travel to the world of 
extreme bliss where I`m married to a princess in a golden castle....
with plenty cattle...the sky is blue as the flowers bloom and the stars
 are  sparkling;Oh,yes!I`ve been here before~the apex of glory...
cool cosy water fall touching my head....De ja vu ~~de ja vu....inks
dripping on my feet...Ha!my pen~~I jerk back to life....thick inks flow
out of my drunken pen forming a sea of water on my notes.Oh!smell
of whisky fills the air.......my Sedoka is ruin.Ha!my princess in the Ca..
cas..tle..;Wha..t  an illusion..Staggering..waggling...rambling, my pen
moves along.........


Mama's Here

Mama's here, little one.
Even when she's not.
Her arms are wrapped around you,
She loves you a lot.

Mama's always by your side,
Even when she can't talk.
When you're at your best.
And even when you're at your worst.

Kai loves you.
Mama loves you.
Nothing could be more true,
Than the words I speak when I'm with you.

I want to be there for you.
I want to lift you up.
Someday, we'll meet.
Someday, I will.

I'll press butterfly kisses all over your face.
I'll sqwoosh your cheeks and hug you close.
I'll cuddle with you all the time.
I'll never ever leave your side.

One day, we'll meet.
Then, you'll see.
Mama's here. Mama's with you.
She'll never ever leave.

When Tigger can't bounce,
And Pooh hates honey.
When Peter Pan can't fly,
And Mater isn't funny.

That's when I'll stop loving you,
That's when I'll move on.

When Patton can't smile,
And Roman drops his sword and runs.
When Logan can't find a solution,
And doesn't even try.
When Virgil gives up on the others,
And becomes the bad guy.

That's when I'll leave you.
When the world ends.
Only then,
Will I not be your friend.

I may not be good at everything,
Or even good for you.
But I swear on my life,
 I could never stop loving you. 

Not you.
Not Alex.
Not Al or Kat.
Not Kayden.
Not Katie.
Not Rory or Batts.
Not Megan.
Not Joan.
Not Cassie or Jen.
Not Marie.
Not Zoe.
Not Olivia or Em.
Not Emma.
Not Beet.
Not Caelum or Kali.
Not Cas.
Mot Gabby.
Not Serena or Bailey.
Not Xavier.
Not Rihanna.
Not Natasha or Mac.
Not even Malaya.
Not even Sonnae.

 Not even if there isn't a person that loves me back. 

I could never stop loving,
All the people in my life.
Past or present,
Even if they weren't nice.

Mama always loves you.
She'll never move on.
Mama won't ever stop loving,
Even if everyone else is gone.

Mama loves you.
Your highs and your lows.
Kai loves you.
They'll protect you from all your foes.

Mama's always here, little one.
Even when she's not.
Her arms are wrapped around you.

  She loves you a lot.
© Kai Toth  Create an image from this poem.

Friends

Tel un phoenix tu renais apres chaque deception
et tu fais pour trouver une solution
crois moi les vrai amis qui peuvent taider
sont beaucoup moins nombreux que tu peux imaginer
7 est leur nombre dans mon cas
ils ne font que amener de la bonne humeur et de la joie
qui sont-il je ne te le dirai pas
mais crois moi je ferai tout pour contribuer a leur joie

Premium Member I'M Twisted

It’s pick on Jan day
What else can I say

No more will I write
I’ll bid you goodnight

Maurice, Tim and Cas
Have all had a laugh

Some fine words they have written 
In his lastest poem Tim was smitten

But the truth it is out
So I’ll cry and I’ll shout

My real name is Stan 
I once was a man

Jan/Stan Allison
3rd October 2014

Death

notre objectif est-il la mort
la reponse a cette question je l'ignore
peut etre il n y a que ca de reel
datteindre le paradis et le repos eternel
de rejoindre les etres qui nous ont quitte
de rester pres d'eux pour l'eternite
de quitter ce monde rempli d'impurite
pour trouver une place qui nous est reserve
en nous quittant l'anne derniere
tu nous as montre a quelle point tu etais essentiel
te revoir rien qu une fois serait mon voeu le plus cher
en tout cas notre prochaine rencontre se deroulera dans le ciel

Consequences

Je suis toujours la meme personne
Pour t'avouer cela m'etonne
Etre gentil c'est du passe
Je vais devoir changer

Se soucier du monde
Etre present pour eux chaque seconde
je ne veux plus de cela
ceci n'est pas fait pour moi

A la fin tout le monde t'oublie
ils reviennent seulement en cas de soucis
Laissez moi tranquille s'il vous plait
Les personnes superficielles , j'en ai assez

Je ne serai plus la pour vous aider
Laissez moi vivre en paix

L'Individualisme De L'Ame Artistique

J'adore l'individualisme de l'âme artistique
parce que si elle est inspirée
il peut trouver des niveaux élevés de l' divine information
par exemple:
parfois, quand je compose à Piano
Je sens que je suis en communication avec Dieu
ou peut-être quand j'écris la poésie
peut-être

Quel que soit le cas,
le dualisme de la vie n'est pas seulement apparente
personnes se consacrer à des objectifs mondains
d'aboutir à l'approbation des autres
quand l'art véritable est comme le feu dans le cœur
quand la mort viendra et la renommée ne a pas important
lorsque les poumons ne peuvent pas respirer l'air de la vie
savons-nous vraiment qui nous sommes?

Dumebi's Exodus

INTRO:
I have prepared

Hook:
a season of joy should not go by without jubilation
so I'm not judging descent yuletide celebrations
but I don't forget the word
I reflect on Christ
plus it's the end of the year, I reflect on my life
to be an alpha, I gotta live better-ly 
I'm praying dear Jesus make me a better me
I'm praying for wealth, wisdom and family
I'm praying to continually give like St Nicholas did

VERSE:
like I do in my raps
the greatest form of generousity is from the heart
the gift of Christ been investing from the start
may his grace reign sufficiently as I plant
some think I fell out.l  cas I don't always mention Christ
but I'm that Christian the enemy tried to dim his light
salvation Journey is tunnel where the light flickers
my darkest moment tell a tale and ofcourse they deter 
I'm almost loosing track, a lot of sharp bends
reignite by his words, my engine won't quench
dodging temptation, in Jesus I have a friend
take down goliaths with stones and multiplying breads
everyday is war, I gotta stay winning
I pray the day that he comes, I won't be caught sinning
Lord grant me wisdom and wealth cas family is billing
Proverb 10:22 has said that you are willing

HOOK:
a season of joy should not go by without jubilation
so I'm not judging descent yuletide celebrations
but I don't forget the word
I reflect on Christ
plus it's the end of the year, I reflect on my life
to be an alpha, I gotta live better-ly 
I'm praying dear Jesus make me a better me
I'm praying for wealth, wisdom and family
I'm praying to continually give like St Nicholas did, Pro
 
OUTRO:
I am sending an angel ahead of you
to guard you along the way 
to bring you to the place
I have prepared

Premium Member Virtual Reality

 Venture into a world created by a computer
 Immerse yourself into its surreal sphere
 React to the input of its digital aurora
 Twist and turn to its commands, is it real
 Under its spell, you react to its stimuli
 Abstract concepts unraveled with images cast
 Limitless possibilities in this parallel reality

  6- 25-2024
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.

E Come Be Like

Intro:
April 2013

Verse 1:
Enter bus make we go period of JAMB
Me nor dey shake cas na my third
E be like chance to take blast
No be mouth guy man dey jack
When dem boys dey flex Christmas
Momsi go cook, clean and wash
Make Pikin get extra time
Scatter past questions sote the pages tear
Teacher throw question for class, my hand already in the air
No man be dondi (at all)
Cas if you persevere (persevere)
You go be guru
My guy, you no need voodoo I swear
I stuck to my timetable
Cover the whole syllables
On Facebook, BB and 2go
Me dey unavailable
Three Months before the JAMB
I been dey jack Post-UME self
To secure admission that year like say I be iron shelf
As Baba God pilot am
The awaited day land
I pieces the exam
Without bullet for my hand
Na make my sleepless night for pay
Sure say Baba God know my pain
A week later the result date
My Jamb Score na 168
Damn
Hook:
E con be like God be bad guy
Abi?
Shebi?
E con be like God be bad guy
Abi?
Shebi?
E con be like God be bad guy
Abi?
Shebi?
E con be like God be bad guy

Verse 2:
No be hin leave make Jacob job Esau?
Na hin create Amalekites dem, con tell Saul 'kill dem all'?
Even small small pikin dem wey nor know wetin dey sup?
Bros J vex use he hand scatter money for black market joint
E be like God be badt guy
When he put that tree for eden
Cas if apple nor dey
Mama Cain for nor disobey
Moses my guy too try
Come make mistake fall hand
Hin knack am pass Yemi Alade
E nor come go promise land
E resemble the same issue we dey face for 9ja
Igbos dey vex for government, on top country matter
The Government dey corrupt
Some people no see food to chop
Even for Malay where I dey
Racism be like groundnut
Mehn the good die young and wicked people dey flex
Bros Jeremiah been vex
Baba, if you dey watch like film
Sure say you go hala 'nawa'
Plus man fit loose guard hin faith
Make I hear from you 'how far'
(Bros J how far naw)
You might also like
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Hook:
E con be like God be bad guy
Abi?
Shebi?
E con be like God be bad guy
Abi?
Shebi?
E con be like God be bad guy
Abi?
Shebi?
E con be like God be bad guy?

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