Best Courteously Poems
The poem with no name.
There is a black raven at my tail, as I walk down the street;
It foretells me my tale will no longer taste so sweet.
The end is nigh, I hear from upon high;
In darkness I hear, the shriek of the beast.
I am coming to meet you, my maker;
Are you sure you are ready to meet me?
I will courteously scream at you, what have you taken away?
My life, your judgment; what a price to pay!
Too short was this living; your retort had better be good!
No I don’t understand! Who on Earth could?
This darkness you befell upon me is bitter indeed;
Without you to blame and scream at, what have I left to bleed?
A soul snatched from this world and elevated beyond this life;
In God’s eyes I find meaning, to my premature demise.
What countless men before me, have suffered the same fate?
I see two angels at God’s shoulders; I guess he sent his Devil away.
I kneel before benevolence and beg for forgiveness.
The voice of angel’s raise my spirit;
Their songs of joy are relentless.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
If you have never felt the lure of the desert,
you cannot understand why people like me
prefer to be surrounded by sandy dunes.
An inexplicable lure, that acts like a drug.....
Until I was kidnapped by four senile Bedouins.
There was nothing senile about their guns.
Courteously I was led into their tent
built near a small oasis. I was fed, sort of.
And then the entertainment began.
From behind the curtains, someone strummed
a melody of eastern music, eerie and mysterious,
but still unpleasant to my ears.
Two men performed a sword dance.
Then a lovely female dancer took the stage.
In the dim light, the air was smoky with hookahs,
she stood in the middle of the tent,
The music climbed slowly in a crescendo,
her dance matched the rhythm, slow to fast.
I wonder why she did not interest me.
I was more concerned about the weapons
Aimed idly at me. Someone handed me a drink,
like nectar. I drank and drank and drank.
The end came, abruptly.
I woke up groggily,
and was sent to the nearest town.
The senile Bedouin smiled:
"The desert has its beauty, my friend.
But be careful. You can get lost."
Still, the lure of the desert will always beckon.
I am that grass you love.
Green or yellow, I am.
Brown, sometimes, I am, and
On me, your animals feed.
Greener, your life I make.
To make shelters, you use me,
To prettify your parks, you shrub me, and
To produce compost and oxygen.
Your gardens’ beds, I create.
Myriads of creatures, I host.
With me, you surround yourself
Greenly attractive to look.
To make an extra buck, you need me.
As your low spot, you use me.
Today, courteously, plant and feed me.
Even if you will dispose of me,
Just like a mere green waste.
That grass you treasure, I remain.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Eagle
Dalliance up above in the stratosphere,
Sailing stead in the smooth creamy cloud
Like the Almighty Angelic machine in Azure,
Like the beastly Griffin running missive among
stars.
Here is welcome to paradise!
Right through your phantom ushering
To a lounge that’s closest
To your favourite armchair in mind,
By some Damsels courtiers who truly have you in
hearts
And with courtesy courteously pamper you like
urchin.
Relax on board is the lullaby of the Nightingale,
Feel the elevating excitement like an arrow
Right through a warrior’s grip,
Throw over cumulus, air borne
Settle in and view over our victuals,
Mouth watering delicacy will find
Your appetite, not to mention the inducing
Aperitif,
We are on a journey to Bell Air,
The destination is to Xanadu,
We will arrive in Utopia
With connecting flight to Los Atlantis,
We trip the galaxies, but not the way to abyss,
Fly, fly,and fly into your widest dream
Fly aloft like an Aeronaut
Dream of an expedition to the moon
Discover shinning gold and crystal diamond
And when you have gathered a fortune
Land in ambience, accomplishing comfort,
Then taxi home
The experience is like you are just,
Right out of a bathtub.
I act courteously around him;
dress lightly to enjoy summer breeze;
he sees my tongue licking my lips in the sun;
I gaze at him lazily, and sigh gently as the ocean breeze
blows my dress;
"she wants to make love", is all I read deep in his eyes......
Note: To the tune of "Little Drummer Boy"
Come, they sold me, to Macy’s this year
The perfect gifts await for holiday cheer
I’ll push and shove my way through the crowd
Cuss if I don’t succeed, for crying out loud
Stomp on feet of shoppers with my heels
Clear a path to line's front as everyone reels
Bent o’er in pain they grouse, “Who is this cruel witch?”
And I scream back to them in a very high pitch
To reach fine gifts I create travesty
Then single-handedly grab the last Nativity
Baby Jesus is smiling at me
What have I done to find Thee
Done to find Thee
Sadly, I glimpse back at those I’ve attacked
And hand the manger scene to one farther back
The truest gift we find is not on the shelves
We’ll never find this gift within our lost selves
If we forget to share the holiday joys
With shopping schemes and ill-conceived ploys
Make way for kinder shoppers courteously
To find the greatest gift called humanity
Just leave the shops behind and visit your church
And bow before His grace from the pew as you perch
Baby Jesus is smiling at me
For now I’ve found Thee
Now I’ve found Thee
The sun had been courteously shining,
But disappeared progressively.
The clouds became dark and rushing;
I heard several thunderous thunders.
Small and scattered drops of rain started falling.
Then, it started raining and pouring;
With no umbrella, I compacted my paces.
I was critically soaked but paddled forward.
I became like a homeless dog in a desert,
Roaming around with no company;
I was devastated, completely desperate
On a foreign land, like in a mangrove.
No one to talk to, except my inner person
That called for death, but it never came.
I cried, I moaned and sniffled over and over.
My small heart was quickly pumping.
All my tears were wiped by the rain.
Choiceless, I seemed to like that shower,
Though it disturbed my journey.
In loneliness, my legs were wobbling.
I sat on a wanderer’s huge stone,
Bent my head on both my knees.
I recalled the days of good weather,
But I was optimistic to get dry someday.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile.
She is sweet and enigmatic
Her walk so conspicuous
How dare I go there,
With all her enigma
This surely won't end well.
She walks towards me
And courteously asks to sit beside
I hastily agree
Words that fall from her mouth
Are nothing but pleasing,
Dropping innuendos at every given opportune.
We delight in wine and she matches me glass for glass as she seems nonchalant to its effects.
Her eyes light up the room or is it the wine taking its toll?
Her beauty lies in comparison to none that my eyes have lay upon
I sit with an Aphrodite but yet
I wonder what she sees in me?
I stare at her as I fathom,
It suddenly dawns on me.
She is the kind who swallows cork for coin, The lady of the night.
That's the only conclusion I have
A woman all alone in a bar
What else could she be?
I decide to tread path on a more direct route
And arrive at point.
I ask her in whisper,what reward she will require for me to see what I was longing for?
Her dress part from her body.
She scowls as she breaks word
"I am a Lady seeking a Gentleman"
She stands and walks away like Cinderella only this time she leaves no glass slipper,
Leaving me mortified
For I sat with a lady and only just realized it Now.
Form:
scents of the old pine and hazelwood sail through the damp air,
the old teak never ceases to astound a visitor.
Gargantuan its tall spread wings engulfing the whole structure.
the minute carvings and the niches in the logs appear quite
undistinguishable.
These evoke the smell of fresh wine and fruits
that were once gobbled ravenously.
Those golden facades upon where the queen's beautiful doves perch,
are now merely an old eagle's beak.
Into the garden ran the swan and goosy ducks paddling their feet for
a dip in the luminous pond, a thousand years ago.
The king's long hall courteously held his courtiers through the reigning years.
The summoning of merrymakers could almost be heard a thousand years ago.
They with flickering beads and jingles danced through
history for the sight of their majesty
on the red-tiled floor.
The interior chamber, a glory of artillery
and a call for battles of victory.
There hung the rusty gleaming swords and shields,
sheathed by blood and sweat adorning the warrior clan.
The long cry of valiant men in the field of war,
scorched by their silent enemy in the sky and stripped by the roaring thunder of great storms, all could be seen a thousand years ago.
The wooden panels staccatoed with memories
and beams of history and pillars of time, all crowded
in this majestic architecture, never ceases to astound a visitor.
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
Season of our Savior soaring saintly
Passions of his purpose popping plainly
Christmas and his christenity, cruising courteously
You are supposed to stop your car when the light is red.
Drive carefully; there is no exception for it today.
A vulnerable pedestrian can wind up dead.
Injured street crossers have to be taken away.
I cannot express the importance of what I say.
The importance of safe driving is not beyond your comprehension.
An accident is anything but a pleasant scene.
Pedestrians will pay the price if you don’t pay attention.
Courteously yield when a street crosser is seen.
Proceed only when the traffic light is green.
Several years ago, I came close to becoming a fatality crossing Pacific Avenue
in Atlantic City, NJ. Someone in a hurry to get to work tried to beat a red light.
The thunder had shoved from sleep
What would the soul’s anchor seem:
So deep and falling men’s fears are
When eyes no buoyancy provide.
The trees, conspiratorially hissing,
Exhorted, it seemed, the angry
Masses of air that I knew now the
Storm that was early rumored in wind.
The heavy slugs of rain tore
Open the flesh of the ground and
Mud ran everywhere, and me,
In some hotel room, by kisses
Gunned down.
Yes, I had seen all this early
In dark battalions westward
Mounting who had become so
Long impending, familiar, death
Grew beautiful.
These things come out of
The West, where late it becomes
So red, so full, that the onset
Of night is full-well assumed,
Received courteously.
Shiiish
They plugged their ears
then taped eyes shut
such their lips were likewise sealed
they stayed at home
shopped online
for hats and shoes for deals
They closed their doors
then closed their minds
left all that trouble outside
skimmed the channels
perused the net
stayed awake till half past five
They heard nothing
or offered opinion
avoiding all current controversies
agreeing where necessary
smiling courteously
indulged in selfish photography
They died as it were
without warning or fuss
t'was announced on social media
Maggie and fred
were missing and dead
from googling and Hypoglycaemia
Form:
Especially one courteously wrapped ably
anonymously gifted to
an aspiring gourmet Chef Boyardee
i.e. not surprisingly... revealing mystery
person none other than...
yepper namely me.
Moost anyone can show
off culinary karate chop
suey, whether schooled among
fishy creatures either
from black lagoon,
or privately tutored,
(this haint no canibal)
courtesy mythological Cyclop,
somewhat riotously,
quirkily and precariously,
when blindsided flop
which slapdash loco motion often
misconstrued for latest dance moves
characterizing boogie woogie
(touting Louis Armstrong talents
as token bugle boy), and/or hip hop.
Audible sigh of relief exhaled by
none other than Chaim Yankel,
whose tail feathers ruffled
linkedin to setback, which former
(malfunctioning microwave) did rankle.
No longer must
hungry tummies all told
eat food frozen and/or cold
leftovers formed into Rorschach,
neigh Horseshack habitat mold
more suitable as clay pigeons,
where strong arms
analogous to accordion fold
readied to take aim and fire
young trumpeting Olympian trained
contestants, albeit aghast at
proliferating firearms when polled
wantonly, indiscriminately, and blithely
taking precious innocent lives
worth more than fine spun gold.
Eve vent chilly this monseigneur
and his madam
(Church Lady) conceding faithful
to follow and acquiesce
and countenance flimflam
toward yours truly,
no matter a fake Imam
who offered up feast
Earth friendly biologically/
genetically modified, prepared
artificial intelligent algorithmically
programmed manufactured in Vietnam,
who cooked delectable
Soylent green eggs and ham.
Best not prepare
former entree in microwave
lest they explode instantly
killing home of the brave
necessitating, none other
than one lame rhymester at large
to end poem quickly senseless verse
in order for his hide to save.