Best Converts Poems
"Marriage after Sunrise"
sunset drunken light
on lavender glass of wine
a long lost tear falls
converts into sleeping pills
dismiss the rain again
"Divorce before Sunset"
With bending stem and shriveled leaf
another day of scorching sun
becomes an ache without relief-
a day where growth has been undone.
As baking earth converts to tomb
with thirsting roots, no fruit, no bloom
the end, its arid course has run.
But gathered clouds reveal a sign
of hope that death may not today
lay claim upon this life divine.
A trembled reach, a feeble sway
while droplets small and shy at first
then dazzle down in drenching burst-
delightful flood renews life's play.
Saraband Sonnet~
Drizzling, dazzling
splinters of diamond
Shards of crystal
or liquidized glass!
Transparent drops
from a translucent sky.
Ooh, that lucid lustre:
No wonder they say,
there's something sexy about the rain
Atleast it does seem to drive
dripping lovers insane.
And then as if frenzied, suddenly excited
the drizzle converts into a heavy downpour
as thunders bellow and thunders roar
as rivers swell and rivers soar.
Rain battering our rooftop
like needless war drums
or heedless bass drums
The heavens having opened
to announce a cloud burst
Till it's said to be raining cats and dogs
or more realistically, fishes and frogs!
O' God bless the nimbus
Those soaking cotton wool puffs in the sky
Those candy floss rainclouds sailing by.
Written: December 11, 2023
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Intricate depiction of a being?
That a single hand could create
Beneficial matters can be evanescent
When built out of yielding clay?
Molded into fiction, scales, and tails
In terms of creative process,
Ground and airborne entities
Morph into unthought-of shapes.
A refined intellect creates ephemera
Quickly under a gentle moonlight
I'm floating in the swaying elevator
Regarding heavenly breezes.
Hair converts into poet-trees from poetry
Yet untamed ideas are captivated
With the spirals and knuckles
Brilliant sculptor's vision and decision.
lifting our minds into untamed sight
Those who grasp this routine are lucky
And the beholders of moonbeam dreams
Pursue the path that moves the heart.
How many suns have I seen?
I hope I see thousands more.
But I don't want to lie awake,
begging for sleep, for puzzle-piece dreams,
crossed wires beneath my skin.
They spark and spasm down my side.
The tingling hurts, the cold converts
the numbness into pain.
I need more time to write, to rhyme.
I need more time to love.
I need more time to watch the sea
while sunsets bleed
and rain clouds weep
upon me from above.
Where's my unchained melody?
Where's my time to shine?
Don't cheat me out of time with him,
Don't rip me from his side.
Have you ever tasted metallic fear?
It feels heavy on my tongue.
I crave today
as I hear them say:
But, how...? She's so young.
To nature's norms have I complied -
I laughed, I cried, I lived. I tried.
I'd like to think in aftermath
There's more to my existence path.
I paid the procreation dues,
Dear offspring and their offspring too.
My children opened up my eyes
Far beyond me, myself and I.
The grandkids taught me quite a bit -
There's more to golden age than knit.
No shutters to wondering mind,
Just open it and you will find -
In brighter hue the greener grass
Is on our side in front of us.
Power is not how much but how
To stay aboard the flight of now.
Retired bliss converts the course -
Discretionary time to pause.
Smelling the roses is a must
As flower fanfare fading fast.
Hunger for knowledge, free to sate,
But wisdom's pride is heavyweight.
(No known tip-off to neutralize -
To shed the weights and keep the wise).
The all time norm by which I vow -
Not there nor then but here and now.
To nature's norms have I complied -
Once upon a time lived I!
February 27, 2023
Toward God and His way to assured salvation
…affirming eternal power of regeneration
…asserting priceless redemption
…awakening through miraculous new creation…
His believers are we, trusting Him for our transformation!
Toward God by His Word that resounds His tender mercy
…refreshing souls with divine loving kindness and clemency
…rejuvenating spirits yearning for contentment sufficiency
…rekindling faith’s fervent fervency…
His followers are we, practicing His statutes’ policy!
Toward God Who grants pardon’s blissfulness
…directing us to confess our sinfulness
…demanding the need for worshipful earnestness
…disciplining disobedience through His righteousness...
His converts are we, casting to Him our haughtiness!
Toward God anchoring steadfastness upon His standard
…increasing effectiveness of each faithful steward
…insuring the diligent certainty of labour’s reward
…invigorating hope to keep on marching forward...
His servants are we, ushering the lost to His safeguard!
Toward God while walking along paths of wisdom
…bringing us to wondrousness of heavenly kingdom
…bracing our genuine altruism against selfish martyrdom
…beautifying character with patience midst spiritual boredom…
His seekers are we, triumphing in His truth-propped freedom!
Toward God as He leads us to His heart
…laying His perfect will upon our footsteps against temptation dart
…lightening vision to behold majestic eternity’s rampart
…lifting pursuits, surpassing worldly vanity start…
His learners are we, persevering to fulfill our devotion’s best part!
Toward God, admitting human flaws beseeching strength for rectitude
…satisfying our nourished well-being to exercise attitude of gratitude
…sanctifying conscience by wise admonitions surmounting vain platitude
…saturating us with His peace around prayer solitude…
His children are we, growing by grace for good testimony altitude!
*2Peter 3:18 But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and for ever. Amen.
April 12, 2021
4th place, "Where are we Headed" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 4/23/2021.
Suns soft sensual soaking silhouette
slowly sneaks silently the silky skin
Oppulent orifices ooze olive sweat
Reprising rhythmic rouge romance akin
Saturated salt smelling skin spilling
frothy fragrant fire ferociously
Capricious calm converts to cool chilling
Precipitation paid precociously
Heartwarming henotic humble heat haunts
harmed human hearts hypnotized happily
Gleaming glowing glare gravitating taunts
of liquid love long lost unhappily
Precious precocious sunshine come hither
Need your lava lifeblood not to wither
3/13/2018
Kirbe the CO2.
The C is carbon and the O is oxygen. The 2 at the end of the CO2 means there two oxygen.
That what CO2 is which makes carbon dioxide. He lives in the atmosphere.
Kirbe is very busy. When the sun is shining on plants, he goes to work. Plants perform
photosynthesis which converts light energy to chemical energy.
The photosynthesis converts Kirbe to carbon hydrates, food for the plant, releasing oxygen
in the process. Now now. Kirbe isn't dead, he still at work.
When work is done, Kirbe is released in the atmosphere in several ways: Through
respiration performed by plants and animals.
Through decay of animal and dead matter. Through combustion of organic material that
produce carbon dioxide like cars.
On the surface of the oceans where water becomes warmer and through volcanic eruptions.
That a lot of ways Kirbe is released in the atmosphere. When time passes, so does Kirbe.
As Kirbe travel back into the atmosphere, he takes a long break. Or does he....
Nope, Kirbe continues working because it's a cycle that never stop. For its Kirbe the CO2.
Seems as a country full of saints and carriers of purity
as all crimes are interestingly attributed to outsiders
tagging them the influential teachers of immorality
yet such crime lovers show the capability of posing a threat
through the embarrassment caused on locals due to their industrious nature
Understanding the half-hearted privileges such a partial acceptance offers,
settlers become more creative, hardworking and productive
with limbs running on entrepreneurship, trade and commerce
while citizens comfort themselves
in the exaggerated pride of their home soil
which results in a war without cause or reason
The government ought to be a job creator
but how ironic, internationals are paying dearly for it.
It is claimed that foreigners are the thrombus in the channel of employment.
Yet these hated people
are self employed with shops, businesses and service centers
which are destroyed as a form of remittance of some sin
Every nation has her share of international mixture
yet a lot do not debase them as foreigners or aliens
the one down south of the dark island of all countries should be the least,
considering the continent’s role in its history,
irrespective of what her excuse may be
Look inwards if strangers are preferred in the national work force,
to find some answers- you angry mob
Examine your home, if passers-by enjoy more of the milk it produces.
Why target and shoot at the tree
when the bird is left alone to dine and sing?
Policemen catch fun while a soul converts to black coal,
humans lynched like a left over meal from vultures,
businesses ransacked and turned into forceful philanthropy,
these are evidences of character built on a very low budget.
If those responsible do nothing about social development,
With or without these ‘aliens’, the economic problems will still prevail
The heart of the sea is a mother's heart
She is the great ancestral mother of all life on the planet
Deep within the mysterious waters of her womb
she conceived and gave birth to the first life form
which evolved into more complex organisms
that live on the land and in the air
She is an essential part of the planet's ecosystem
feeding the clouds which bring rain and snow
that sustain life on the earth
Through tiny ocean plants and photosynthesis
she removes carbon dioxide from the air
and converts it to more than one half of the oxygen
in the earth's atmosphere
She is the great food provider to the planet
having her own internal food chain
with tiny phytoplankton at the lower end
and enormous sharks and whales at the upper end
She feeds creatures from the land and air
that venture to fish in her waters
She is a thing of beauty even in her enraged fury
with massive waves towering over a hundred feet
and the seething white foam of her waters
This has been her action
even before the advent of man on the planet
Man must respect her behaviour
or suffer death and destruction if he does not
She is a thing of beauty in her calm stillness under the setting sun
which lights up the evening sky in its glorious splendour
and paints a glistening beam of light on the water's surface
in line with the sun and surrounds it
with brilliant colours of the rainbow
The light!
it outshines, dominates and cannot be captured,
is the definition of its glory and pride.
But a substance,
as little and unseen as it is,
captures the light, processes and even converts,
so is my victory and testament.
The Chloroplast!
Aiming at a shot, but had a blast
despite the hibernation
my doings shout and boast
as influence and praise stretch my coast.
From east to west
spreading so fast
like the yeast on an old baked dough.
My methods cast upon the waters
as they stay afloat and pass the test,
this marvels my competitors
and keeps them alarmed.
The past,
having its proclamation of me,
"less than a commoner
and worse than an outcast".
The present protests
while the future screams "AVAST!"
my new empire,
filled with pasteurized milk
produced from healthy breasts
and sweet scenting red meat
well spiced, salted and roasted
sums up the efficiency of my hands
which have defeated lack
until Ice heavys water.
At last!
In the Island of abundant grapes
having supplies of fresh and viscous Honey
with vast avenue for pleasures.
I stand the greatest.
And as mighty and untouchable as I seem.
I still dwell like the chloroplast.
A simple god so slender and symbolic
having a one way onslaught in his approach
and toiling with the master-class of the game
to revolutionize an entire country away from his.
He bastardized his inheritance of stiffness and a crunch system
To transmit the pleasure of a video game to a live coverage.
A believer of his approach, a missionary in his style,
legendary in his execution, but often blind to its short comings.
Going an entire season without a fault
and giving the possibility to travel cloud 49
makes his glory carry such schoolbag of mysteries and awe.
From the African prince of Monaco, to the great George Weah
and the Dennises, Thierrys, Vierras and Anelkas,
he converts a dusty wood into a luxurious boat.
Academy is his bedroom, ventilated by continuity
even though some megastars were short of understanding this.
Maintenance of a certain threshold even with half loaded guns
is very difficult to achieve and impossible to maintain
but not at all to this attacking minded General.
Spending a decade to shoot regions near the actual target
under the stuffiness of limitations both in finances and talents
shines the stadium light even in the darkness of his underachievement.
Prudence and a closed fist was his personality’s widget
b’cos glory on the pitch alone isn’t his mental gadget.
Placing a repercussion of a very stiff budget
and his command, downgraded so low to a midget.
All these because he’s carried the club like a personal object
placing the short sightedness of instant glories to an eject.
Stability in his empire is now a complete project
As his winning dominance was once a European subject.
He’s now back with an intimidation which will make opposition fidget.
Back to his rank, as he wears all the colours
rising in significance after all the hurdles
heart poured out to a club glorifies him beyond a mere coach,
the riches of such dedication influences the staff of his reputation,
winning and being a champion has always been his signature.
He has once again proven it,
as the world of sports stands still in ultimate salute.
KISMET
If ever the mind could decipher the mien of an intuited presence,
Would it insinuate that which is understood?
It is never a thing to perceive, that intuited presence that goes unseen.
Once it appears in audible form, it seems to grasp a shape from a line in the wall.
The figure rune becomes known.
It is like counting sheep to doze off.
The night air blows through the window.
You look beyond.
Your apprehension converts your thoughts.
Doom is the calamity of your psychic powers.
By God pulpits the sun,
Insofar as the moon is no longer disclosed.
****
In tribute of Josephine Louise Miles (June 11, 1911 – May 12, 1985) who was an American poet and literary critic and the first woman tenured in the English Department at the University of California, Berkeley.[1] She wrote over a dozen books of poetry and several works of criticism. I am inspired by her poem Dialogue.
Dialogue
Silence comes down the street to us in the shape
Of those three girls.
They are going to walk past us.
Dampen down
The big brag of our coffee morning.
Hush up
Our open mouths with their billions of words.
Quiet falls.
Now we come walking into this big silence
Heavy as doom,
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Psalmist Thumb!
Dancing on one leg,
On one leg we live with agony.
Agony shapes our wobbly footsteps.
Footsteps made into inaudible power.
Power blossoms through a series of gaffes.
Gaffes in life we must encounter.
Encounter the collapse,
Collapse that let us instill how to soar
Soar through tornadoes.
Tornadoes that hover steadiness
Steadiness leading to respire hesitation.
Hesitation converts into intensity.
Intensity that coals irrepressible souls.
Souls molded by cracks
Cracks that find cadence in the obscure.
Obscure leads to dawn
Dawn still pirouetting on one leg
Poem by N. Mugisho