Best Eking Poems
R ainbow hues in
ge ntle flowing mist,
tu mbling down, down,
dow n. Sprays of moistened
bre eze from roaring water
ca sca ding in long falling
str eams, echo thro ugh dream
fill ed chasms of gently filtered
li ght growing ever darker past
ro cky ou tcrops of granite and
mi ca, sp arkling in the sun. Trickles
of tiny rivul ets find their own path
aro und boul ders that block their way
like st one sentinals refusing passage
to the w eary trave ler, but it continues
relent lessly movi ng on its unknown
jo urney to an un knowable de stiny
lap ping ag ainst its captive channel,
ne ver able to break free, longing for
rel ease and the freedom to flo w on its
own pa th, to make its own way. Weary
fro m its never ending quest, it is ever
se eking thro ugh tumultu ous desire the
rel ief from its unending tor ment and pain.
Yet, it pers everes in its never ending
qu est to find its pl ace of rest as it
fa lls, fa lls, fa lls deeper and deeper
in to the gaping maw of the abyss
where awaits, forever more, the
inky darkness of
eternity
11/30/15
As corporate execs rub their hands together
In greedy glee on seats of plush leather
The man on the street smells the breath of the city
Whilst the man in the tower thinks himself quite witty
As the look down upon the masses below
Eking a living, walking hungry and slow
On the sidewalk that feels like the skin of the city
But as the markets fall and crash
The wealthy man becomes poor in a flash
And in anxiety and desperation
His turmoiled mind finds a last inspiration
To walk to the balcony with a sobbing cry
And to spread his wings with hope he can fly
And the city below opens its mouth
As the suddenly poor plummets down south
And the stench of the breath of the eternal city
Is the fetid decay of the man that was witty
Yet the steady masses still stumble along
To the beat of the street and the city’s live song
SOFT SENSUALITY
While the waiting is nearing
The longing doubly suspenseful
Mechanically or tender make it eager of welcome
Perhaps hugging and kissing
Will never dampen homesickness
Everything in the “kubo” is envious
Every minute a comfort and intimate
Even crickets stop cricketing
And eking doors shut up and posts oiled
All holes on the walls will have their heydays peeping
Can we stop the nectar oozing down?
Surely a very hearty and glorious days and nights
Like in a store the customer keeps coming back
The delights will never end
Soft and hard are both sensual
Whether the night is romantic
Will both of us irresistible
Especially with naked truth
And never bow out to heavens.
Term: Kubo(Filipino word) means cottage in this poem.
Dalila Agtani
9/26/11
Entered in a contest:
Sponsor nette onclaud
Contest Name SOFT SENSUALITY
Beeping, chirping silicon beasts;
no souls have they, to say the least.
Shrilly, shrieking, cell phones, beeping;
alarms that keep us all from sleeping.
Walking, stalking cameras gawking;
all of our privacy they’re hawking..
What happened to the common sense,
that kept those things outside our fence?
Creeping, sneaking, auto-voices speaking;
Horrid sounds, they are eking.
We’re just trying to digest;
the beastly, techo-mess.
Flying, spying drones colliding with airplanes;
it’s so asinine and insane.
It’s clear to me, we didn’t see,
The moment, common sense, took leave.
From Mastadonian timelessness
Thru Neolithic mankindliness
Past icy agey instances
Cave-ember dream sequences
Animal carcass sustenances
Tribal ritual religiousness
Guttural language utterances
Savage native dominances
Eking marginal existences
Toward era-ending extinguishes
To Nomadic brutal homelessness
Under cracking cultural bridginess
Under societal forgetfulness
Under Military expansiveness
Governmental negligences
A congenital hopelessness
Constitutional vagariousness
Evolutionary pervasiveness
Solitary survivalness
That’s my piece of boniness
My tent reeks of holiness
On the edge of precariousness...
The mosaic
A myriad of faces,
Most, long and forlorn,
Each in a constant flux,
Eking out a living
Worry, deeply etched,
Like parallel ridges,
On an otherwise barren waste
The many faces,
Painted with the ink,
Of the pains,
Of successive failed leaderships,
On the canvas; Nigeria
A giant mosaic -
A picture, yet of hope,
Hope deeply engraved,
On our collective psyche
Our collective psyche-
A Mosaic
Of our individual pessimism,
Nurtured in the manure
Of perpetual system decay,
It's foul stench,
Slowly eroding our gaiety,
Yet, delicately perfumed,
Perfumed by our collective hope,
Our hope for a better tomorrow
A WALK IN THE DARK
The cold wind stung my ego
As my feet darted down the corridor of nowhere
The bitter push whipped through my skin
I slithered through the arrogant open gate
I elbowed my way into the dark world
Dinning with fear and pride along the streets and sidewalks
The sounds of the dark drums and
Strumming gongs echoed from behind
Dead skulls spewing and sparkling stench water on my face
While blood mixed with gin drooled from my chest
Like a tidal wave over a coral reef
My body shaking in a convulsing sobs
Reaching a state of total darkness
I fell into a painful and tortured trance
The moon had already sunk in the sky
I could see the gaunt solitary figure of guilt
I buried my head in the mangy fear
Crawling and groaning
Searching for Freedom
As
Sand still punched between my head body and my soul, caked with fear
I saw pain crawling all over my being
Suddenly,
Fear jerked to a stop when JESUS showed up
I could feel His touch even in the deepest dark
New buds of hope spring forth
Illumination poked my doubt
With a live coal, he touched my lips,
And my eking miserable existence in the dark world turned to light
Today, I walked through the balcony of light and life
With head high and future assured
Have you got Jesus?
Written by Awoh Kingsley Awoh
Dated: 25th January, 2013
Time: 2.15am
Location: Lagos
History publishes eco-political winners
and probably not mystery marginalized also-rans.
NeoCortex dominant pursuits
of growing cognitive information,
knowledge and facts,
comprehension of Earth's regenerative
and degenerative systems
and cosmological nest-network;
these objectives evolve scientific politically empowered paradigms
fueled by our collective economic investments of time and money
understanding of their relational contexts,.
All our biggest and best rational research projects
are multiculturally empowered
by anthropocentric political choices
to invest in cooperative economic promulgation relationships
of neurosystemically accessible discovery.
In this anthro-sensory enlightened market
choosing among alternative methods for comprehending
positive and negative co-relations
within an eco-politically privileged anthropocentric laboratory,
within an anthropological family,
within LeftBrain dominant articulation
of healthy-regenerative
and pathology-degenerative outcomes
within multicultural languages
a cooperatively-held paradigm of scientific method
disassociated from sacred ecological
and organically interdependent
Whole EarthTribe panentheistic
empowering and disempowering systems.
Evolution of personal and familial,
community and national
and global learning
follows a string of historically sustained
LeftBrain verbally dominant
anthropocentrically economic
and political choices
about which positive
and negative co-relationships
matter
Within our polyculturally climaxing/collapsing
Gaian Hypothesis,
and which will keep you too mysteriously
synergetically
mysteriously
intuitively
re-ligiously
sacred ecologically unpublished
and untenured
Unless you are one of the few
still eking out a living
in the indigenous wisdom
PolyTheistic
NonDualistic
pre-Anthropocene
bicamerally co-intelligent
ReLigious History of Mystery Department.
Jeweled morning glows
Echoes of birds from the trees
Withering the night
Juice flows in flowers
Eternal sap of our love
Wellspring of our joy
Jars of honey brim
Erratic flies the loud bee
Woodlands rich in bloom
Just us on these sands
Erecting castles again
Wading in sunlight
Joy is a fresh tide
Eloping from the cracked moon
Wan upon the sky
Jerk the wet branches
Empty them of silver tears
While the robin sings
Jar day open wide
Embrace the new beginning
Water cleansed with light
Joy is a swallow
Energized in clips of rain
Wet with old delight
Jew, my dreams are lit
Eternal as the bright sand
Waiting for your rain
Jewels of the heart
Every word the tongue fruits here
Whispers of my faith
Jolly good morning
Eking through the green of leaves
Wayward like a stag
Just brim me love's sweet
Embrace, in forest bosom
Wade me, desire pines.
Amidst the mist, perchance!
The besieged me, accentuates..
gamboling at that ephemeral glance,
The demure Soul for a moment, eluates.
Defying every dulcet wrath,
with my erstwhile prudent..
eking out, what I ever hath,
ineffable! yet a halcyoninan incipient.
I ride astride now, towards then..
from what is lurking afore,
groping the gossamer, to a glen,
where emollience rise only to inure..
Mayhem, pandemonium
total chaos, bedlam, devastation.
A soft, soothing breeze turns
into a whirlwind, a hurricane causing
havoc, death, destruction and untold misery…
Is it the fault of the fair wind?
The life-giving rainfall
cool, refreshing, revitalizing,
turns into rainstorm,
violent thundershower, lightning
causing flash flood, landslide,
mass wasting and shambles…
Is it the fault of the water?
A common man
good, God-fearing,
eking out a simple livelihood,
living a frugal life but sparingly,
thrifty and weak-willed.
When politicians and priests
wreck ruin in his life and
he turns violent, causing terror…
Is this the fault of a mere man?
~10/1/17
~Best free-verse poem oct.-Dec. by John Hamilton
On common land,within the wood
Eking a living as best they could,
Betwixt Roundhead & Cavalier,they stood-
These children of the new forest
Adventures filled ,with youthful zest.
(Frederick Marryat-Children of the New Forest)
Proceed no further, please ...
this Rorschach ink will give you nightmares
Horrifying images everyday in the world you dare don’t see,
terrible things that will make you so soul scared
But, the voice coming from the neon screen
says take a tempting peek
Subliminal whispering: ain’t you glad
it’s somebody else and not you
Frail bodies starving in an adobe abode,
mercenary rats screaming: fire in the hole!
Frightened refugees on a raging river roulette run,
domestic terrorists waving mail-order automatic guns
Patronizing politicians preening:
it’ll be alright, citizen Everyone ...
Let the courage of the flag innoculate the nuclear flu fear
in your patriotic daughters and sons
Inanimate ambling ...
Wooden Pinocchios dancing on a puppet master string,
snorting nose candy and Jack Daniel lying
Incoherent rambling ...
Plastic preachers doing their 24/7 televangelical begging,
fork tongue lisping and viper hissing
The apocalyptic scenarios that you read —
crumbling civilization,
fungi global hope on a mushroom bleed
A spinning green marble tilted 23 degrees,
but the Fahrenheit fear
is ever crimson rising precipitously
Burn this ghetto prose in your head
after you read what is said:
Grateful dead is a better off peace instead,
than daily waking
with the mortal challenge
of eking
a gladiator living
A bird’s life …
Mean and meager
Eking out
A hard existence
Each and every day…
Yet always they strive
Are e’er eager
Existing out of
Pure persistence
Each and every day…
And wrest the best
From their meager
Subsistence
And take
what they’re given
…From each God given day…
The devil wants a payment, and the angels need a check.
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
So, you reach for the savings that your people won't release
Then you look to the heavens and the floor beneath your feat
Screaming lordy lordy where's my money gone
Then the thunder and the lighting and the water begins to come
Cause the devil wants a payment and the angels need a check
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
Yet the people in the government are staying filthy rich
hoping that their proposals begin without a glitch
The workman in the cities coughing up a lung
Their eking out a living b/c repayment has begun
Our children are on the corners peddling out their wares
Keeping eyes to the ground avoiding others stare
The devil wants a payment, and the angels need a check
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
Our saviors at the white house just keep babbling on
Claiming that their there for us, when really they are gone
Out proving some new theory that they really do not know
Claiming its existence, if we give it time to grow
Cause the devil wants a payment and the angels need a check
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get