Best Folk Poems
WHERE THE CITY FOLK LIVE
At the confluence of the cultures
Where the politics ebb and flow
The tide of humanity crashes
Against their collective soul
The spires of religions
And posters of beliefs
Crush against each other
Through the weave of city streets
Registered colours of commerce
And trade mark tags of youth
Line the valleys of glass and steel
On floor, and wall, and roof
The constant clangs of progress
Idle growls of restricted motion
Drift across the green spaces
Invading every moment
The scent of communal sweat
Wafts upon the breeze
From the fires of exotic dishes
And the fumes of commercial needs
Feel free to swim the city
Frolic in the human flow
But be aware of the waves that break
Against your precious soul
I do not like you folk
I do not like you woke
I'd rather you not spoke
Your throats I'd like to choke
All you do is criticize
See things with an evil eye
The embodiment of cancel culture
The predator we call a vulture
I do not like the clothes you wear
I do not like your unkempt hair
I do not like you here or there
I do not like you anywhere
I do not like you folk
I do not like you woke
Your opinions are a joke
I hope you end up broke
May all your plans completely fail
Then all of you wind up in jail
And if you try to ban this poem
I'll put some ants into your scrotum
~ Theodore Geisel, posthumously
Have you heard of Fisher Folk
Masked and disguised
Often difficult to see
When in front of your very eyes
Some will see through the disguise
Once engaged in conversation
Others will never see a Fisher Folk
Blinded by their manipulation
Fisher Folk do not fish
In waterways of any kind
They only fish in ones psyche
Fishing…. human minds
Fishing information, only for personal gain
Needing constant compliments and praise
This is how Fisher Folk
Spend their devious, “its all about me” days
Also known as “Me People”
And other choice names
Pretending to show interest in you
When ‘Self ‘ is the name of their game
Some will never see a Fisher Folk
Being blinded by their camouflage
Others will see straight through it
Quickly seeing the mind sabotage
Fisher Folk are generally likeable
Often intelligent , charismatic ,smart
Though their interest in others is inauthentic
Not from a genuine or loving heart
tidy yarn woven
neatly spliced with home spun charm
gilded tapestry
It's never explained
why she and her son were spared
in the raid on their homestead
It drove her insane
and her boy became a mute
She sent him off with Johnson
Now she was revered
as 'big medicine' and 'touched'
by the Great Spirit to walk
in the unseen realm
Living in parallel worlds...
One of the chosen people
The Crazy Mountains
in the state of Montana
were named in honor of her
by Crow Indians
Respect the mentally ill
(They may know something we don't)
*The 'crazy woman' from the movie Jeremiah Johnson - 1972
with Robert Redford, Will Geer and Allyn Ann McLerie as the woman
The movie is based on a true story
Amadioha the great god of Thunder and Justice
We have gathered at the shrine of Alusi’gwe
To pour libations to you
Even as I do my folk song
Bring me the ogene, to awaken the spirit of my
Forbearers to witness the doomsday they foretold
Give me the udu, to sound out a warning to the futureman
Give me the oja, the special voice of oganigwe the dreaded masquerade
Give the shekere, so that the women of owu can shake their enchanted waist
In love and tranquillity we lived with our neighbours, doing our folk song
Buddha called out to Lord Brahman
Set aside a room for me in the inner chamber
Decorated with beautiful ornaments, to depict love and care
Flanked with candles and incense burner and the beautiful statue of the wise man
To help me escape from the corruption of this world
As I attempt to wake from hatred of neighbours
Focusing on love and purity of heart
Allow me do my folk song living in tranquillity with nature and neighbours
Christed you said you are, servant of the son of God sent from above
Your brother claimed that you are a messenger from Allah
What is this confusion I see, contradicting even your folk song
You came with a sweet tongue of love, yet all I see is terrorism and
A holy war fought by crusaders crushing the bones of the unbelievers
Those who worship idols yet lived a life akin to nature – a life of love
You have created a polarised world of Christed men with less shame for evil
Of religious women without morals
Of Ulamas who feed on the sweat of Almagiris
Oh Christ! is this the gospel you preached on the street of Nazareth?
O! Mohamed is this the Rasuul you preached in Mecca
O! God what we do in your Name, we should be afraid of doing even in the dark
Allow me to return home
To my folk song
In African theism, to the shrines of Alusi’gwe,
To do my folk song with Oganigwe the beautiful masquerade
To solicit corn and groundnuts from old women with sagging breasts
Chasing the kids with a whip in my hand as I wear the mask of the spirit
A spirit of sportsmanship, of equity and love, of fair play and brotherhood.
Allow me do my folk song
Better to be on the end
Of feckless bullying
Than to give into the virus
Of childish trolling
Because no 1 likes
When a hater triumphs
It's the 8th most deadly sin
And gives credence to those
No 1 should give a damn about
Because if they were to be ignored
Would anyone miss them ?
Would they not crawl back under
the rock they troll from
And god willing paper covers rock
And scissors cut through Bull Ship
Bullying comments
This is for the Members you forced to leave
By those who thrive on stirring mischief
Devoid of empathy
And human feelings
Jealousy is unbecoming
And is in fact
The greatest form of compliment
Because if you are worthy of trolling
You have obviously hit a nerve
Far more deserving
Than the wrath you may have incurred
And cuts deeper
Than their patent cry for help reply
As sticks and Stone's may break my bones
But your comments do not phase me
They merely raise pose more questions
Than sadly you provide answers
Walk out to ocean, this stony pathway,
Folk story declare, twas a snakes byway.
Climbed from sea, wormed onto the hidden cave,
Men explored and commune, the knowledge crave,
This legend lives on, even to this day!
Along the horizon, dawn caught away,
Rides in with glory, it's mystic gateway.
Morning shines hope on, the soul of each brave,
Walk out to ocean.
Mist rises, the ocean hides the door way,
Relish the cold evening, welcome skies grey,
The lava flow stairway, the surf well lave,
Presents a view, foretell of gifts we save.
The moon radiates rich, dream day can't stay,
Walk out to ocean!
A wizened boy who lived at seventy-two Oak
Relaxed in his tub with a lemon salt soak
Ate a curly pretzel, downed a harsh throat coke
An honest child who sprang from truthful folk
Dressed himself in a red and yellow super hero cloak
Flew around New York City watching for dangerous smoke
News of his heroism quickly readily broke
Giving some fame to this truthful do-gooder bloke
He saved a young girl who was having a choke
Convinced a teenager to give up a maryjane smoke
Chanted a spell pretty difficult to invoke
Created a talking frog who never could croak
If you meet this wizened boy at seventy-two Oak
Tell him his cousin Moke wants to give him a poke
This is a true story, in absolutely no way a joke
Now that I have shared it, I will go have a soak.
I used to be a dreamer
until I fell for a dream crusher
I used to be very optimistic
until I met miss negative
I used to have beautiful wings
until I ran into a shearer
I used to be a lovely garden
until someone planted weeds
I used to see vibrant colors
until I came across mr.dull
Beware of such folk.
They bring destruction,
everywhere they go.
2-27-2020
Alexis Y.
Inspired by the “Warning”
contest
Yup, here they come
hippies, yuppies, kiddies and Millenials, generation X on the run
they gather at the restaurants and malls
ten or twelve six feet apart walk along the walls
casually strolling pass the limited entry stores
no longer able to stay at home, so tired and so bored.
There's Old Joe and John, laughing as they wave their hands
to Sue and Lynn, Morgan and Zoe in the corner stand
masks upon their face, sauntering with grace
hoping to find a sale within this space,
but security is riding on their segway racers
courting those who appear displacers.
There are no flash mobs here
all the people hold back their fears
these once avid partygoers
are now streamlined floaters
longing, aching, wishful thinking of party times
when they all danced and drank alcoholic wines.
Colors in a smoky fire,
Dance the night away.
Flames rising ever higher,
Draw fairy folk to play.
Deep within a tree lined wood,
Lie secrets kept by elves.
If you catch an elf who’s good,
He’ll tell you them, himself.
Gnomes, they are another matter;
They’ll keep all to themselves.
Try to find one, they’ll all scatter;
With no sight, sound or smell.
There are secrets that man can’t know;
He’ll abuse them, to no good.
Folk often say:
I wish the world was more loving,
How many people did you love today?
Folk often say:
Why is he/she homeless?
How many spare rooms,
do you have in your mansion?
Folk often say:
I don't understand why is he/ she
begging for food,
How much food did you leave on
your plate and throw away?
Folk often say:
Why does he/she have on
those ragged clothes?
How many nice clothes did
you throw in the trash?
Change starts with the person
you see in the mirror every day.
2-18-19
Alexis Y.
"The Folk Dance"
On the backs of well formed muscular miners
Working hard in the trenches on a daily basis
For the men who need coal, fat cats and such
Dirty, sweaty and tireless toil try to wear them down
Dehydration and soot inhalation runs rampant
An epidemic throughout lower Appalachia
The jobs they need, for their survival indeed
Their meager paychecks insist they must do it for the love
Ten to fourteen hour shifts and then they collapse on the bed
Six days of the week it's merciless work to anybody
Sunday comes and they can take a day of rest
A certain buzz going around electrifies every last person
Timing is just right to surprise the deserving workers
Since people have prepared to throw down a hoe down!
The good old fashioned type with the elongated dresses
In classic style with seemingly everybody statewide participating
With a do-se-do and an allemande left good country spirits spin uproariously
Twisting and turning to chanted rhythms on a hard packed dirt floor
Inhibitions are nowhere to be found amongst these family friendly folk
Arm in arm with strangers they know each other wants a fair time
Soon the energy starts rocking to the extended company outside
The hootenanny has grown too big for just one barn, they are tireless
"Well Shucks." says the fat cat "I don't work them hard enough!"
Watching from afar he fumbles with his pocket watch just a little miffed
A raucous good time for a genuinely good people
The orchestrator slows it down some and pulls out his granddaddy's autoharp
Relaxing to an old fashioned twang, the couples do their thing
Getting closer to each other rocking calmly to and fro
Feeling four minutes of tenderness with filled loving concentration
Because those seconds are the fleeting ones
Then the banjos bring the pace back up to complement rowdy fiddles
Moving and twirling, elation fills the air for a chance at remembering
Why they are alive for each other, ingenious in its simplicity
While Merriness is their motto
And not even the coal mines can make them forget that
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part. 4
Prelude Note:
The story as painted here on Poetry Soup
is the sole creation and imagination of the writer,
except the names Tesu and Jhonjhi.
The Poem Tesu is based on a folk story of India.
The Tesuwalas* (little children with a earthen lamp
on their heads) as depicted in the Poem are gradually
diminishing with the passing of time and changing life
styles. It's a tribute to that great warrior and lover Tesu,
who sacrificed his life because he had given words
to someone. How and when you would come to
know soon ....
With best wishes before the festival of Dewali (Light)
...Ravindra
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part. 4
This is how , the existence
of the name & deeds of Tesu
Was saved by small village children
who are carrying it since ages
On their pretty little heads. 09
Though the name and story has lost
Its real warmths and glamour
In the mind of those
Who have forgotten
This non painted hero
Of the bygone age. 10
By coming only once in a year near Dewali*
These little children
Carry Tesu and Jhonjhi,
While singing the Songs
Of their forgotton love story
As a rememberance of a Hero
And his lovely bold beloved Jhonjhi. 11 To continue...
Ravindra
Kanpur India 10th Nov. 2012
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws. Copying this story without the permission of the writer is strictly prohibited and would be subject to legal remedies taken by the writer.
Clarification of Hindi words*
Dewali* - The festival of light.
Tesu* - The Name of the hero of this Poem.
Tesuwalas* - Hindi word. The young boys
and girls, who carry The decorated
earthen pot with holes and a light
inside on their head and come
Once in a year near Dewali are
called ‘Tesuwalas