Best Gazelles Poems
Once Upon a Purple Sunrise
Pretty as a Periwinkle,
in your frilly summer frock,
the one with purple polka dots
that matched the cool of early dawn.
Haloed in hazy lavender hue,
I'll always remember you;
running barefoot through
the cornfields still wet
with translucent drops
of fragrant morning dew.
The scent of damp, fresh grass
lingering on your waist-length,
ebony braids, that wrestled free
of their crimson satin ribbons,
floating away in the pale blaze
of a new day, riding on a gentle breeze.
Your childish giggles drifted
through rows of raspberries bushes,
a look of total wonder reflected
in your bright smiling hazel eyes,
innocent as the wispy grey clouds,
that awake with the surprise
of a transient glowing sunrise.
Where did you come from,
Little Sprite, with your
mischievous deep dimples,
cherry-stained cheeks and lips?
Even gazelles would be jealous
of your long, lithe brown legs,
graceful as a swan's,
gliding in casual slow motion.
Carefree as a hummingbird,
hovering in suspended animation,
you were lost in the beauty
of your own song.
Did you forget me,
waiting for you with
finger sandwiches and sweet tea?
But that was okay –
it was your time to wander
in an ocean of wild yellow daisies
that needed to sprout
in your youthful heart…
take root and grow
in your memory forever.
02-17-2018
Best New Poem - 2/20/18
Poem of the Week 2/25/18
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest: Sunrise and Sunset
Placement: 1st
walking gracefully
with a pendulum movement ~
a herd of giraffes
the mass migration
crocodiles at the river~
food for the taking
gazelles are running
a hungry cheetah gives chase~
speed is the winner
a lone male lion
approaches a sleeping pride~
the battle begins
an elephant herd
arrive at the water hole~
use trunks to cool down
a swarm of locusts
devouring vegetation~
skeletal branches
army on the move
soldier ant battalion~
have left a scorched earth
vultures in the trees
animals weakened by thirst~
death is imminent
a downed buffalo
lions watch as herd returns~
bulls scatter the pride
basking in cool mud
the african river horse~
hippopotamus
laughing hyenas
find an unguarded carcass~
scavengers feasting
at the water hole
animals quenching their thirst~
alert for danger
a crash of rhino
hunted for their ivory~
extinction looming
a small antelope
found on the African plains~
cute looking dik dik
the baobab tree
silhouetted at sunset~
african icon
Written 13th May 2018
For best haiku poetry contest
Sponsored By Chantelle Ann Cooke.
WRITING IN A BLACK PERSPECTIVE
Why is it that someone's pain is felt pleasure to another?
I arrived with fears. I cared to find a friend, anywhere
But I wasn't taught to be my own; no school helped me to look within
I heard of God of deep blackness; with words, inciting light
One voice, one eye in our universe
My voice to converse felt crippled.
My family pools held many colors; warm as Caribbean sea breeze
Each person was of significance. Two were like gazelles, alluring
One was as dark as night, the other was near blinding white
Those in between were earth tones.
I looked out beyond decked windows. Multicolored Christmas lights blinked
Nonchalantly in dark of morning; snow was falling, and had covered bare
limbs of a cherry blossom tree- such picturesque view, i decided:
'On this most snowing, all white reigns supremely pure, as the black of night.'
The irises of my eyes were dark brown pools, merging with black pupils...
I was cinnamon; yet found solace in my shade of dark, no harsh light
Soft was my dark. No more depression lurked within. Mine eyes, my ears craved
Transparency; then came clarity. I understood triggers triggering depression
Revelations were as treasured as exercise. Fresh air, rain, sun, I was in awe of
My Higher Power's helpful hands- simplicity and clarity were blessings
I needed no Prozac.
At the start of a new day, I'd submerge in warmth, and baptize myself
I would bring soothing light to mesh with quiet dark
I would lounge, meditate, and pray. Sometimes I'd sing or hum a tune
I'd go fearlessly in the dark, knowing when not to rush
I'd go fearlessly near blinding lights, knowing where to focus.
Who am I? i am as soft as the sinews of you; yet steadfast
A dessert flower with dew of faith- even in winter
I am a flower, thriving like evergreen...
Amid histories fiercest touch to my roots
I know of grace, granted by the Source
Transcending me to live as never before understood.
I need not cry out my fears, in ways that let others fear
I must cry out injustices, so that others, too, may sing
I go fearlessly to face my fears, knowing scars are lessons learned
And good visualizations are as friends, not foes.
*
Oh, who do you call,
My beautiful one?
Rising in iridescent splendor
In the dark side of light against the creeping dawn.
A mourning cry to follow ere the heat of day,
Dries up the velvet feathered throats of longing.
A reddened eye of patience waits and watches;
Awash in tall grass, brown eyes blink
Then more as fear leaps to flight in graceful bounds.
But a muscular coat of dusty fur and the ruby spray of death
Insures another day of life and an all too ready hunger.
Gazelles grazing gaily on golden green grass
Glaciers glittering gold like gleaming glass
Gardens glowing with Gulmohur and Gold stars
Golden gifts of God.
If Only Trees Could Talk
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
If only trees could talk there'd be so many things to learn.
Old tales we'd hear of sweethearts that beneath their shade had kissed.
Oh, lovely sights of nature that they saw before their fall.
We'd hear of nearby habitats where snakes and possums hissed.
We'd know how careless ravaging harms: Deer. Baboons. Raccoons.
The Elephants, gazelles, and mice would seek the trees’ advice.
And bears that sleep in wintertime could hear about the cold.
Listening to great wisdom from the trees would be quite nice!
And if the tree was old enough or passed along life's tales,
Perhaps we'd see another view of slaves in history.
The trees with years of wisdom could upon us shed some light.
Then, man's impact upon the earth would not be mystery.
Take Joseph serving Potiphar accused; that changed his life.
The king could ask a nearby tree and behead the lying wife.
Let's go a little further back, the serpent's words to Eve.
He, twisting truth among the leaves, Eve might not have believed.
If only trees could talk, we might protect them differently.
Replenishing along the way, learned wisdom as our mark.
Would we embrace the kindness every living thing deserves?
Or would we cut our name into its life beneath tree's bark?
When I look at the Nile or Niger
My heart overflows with joy for such a wonder
As currents daringly flow on each iconic river
Every fountain has wealth embedded in its waters
Each mountain, sealed by the richness of history
This is the reason I recognize a path
A path filled with promises
Promises to make Africa great
In fact, Africa is already great
What a marvellous sight to behold!
Imagine a variety of wildlife in Togo
Comforting sounds of birds across Comoros
Outstanding presence of gazelles in Cameroon
Supernatural nests of swallows from epic Chad
Historical archives found in artistic Mali
Fashion trending all the way from Malawi
Magical flavour of Sea Cuisine from sanctified Senegal
Amazing pyramids in the gifted land of Sudan
Breath-taking desert all over Sahara
Beautiful girls dancing malembe in the colourful Sibasa
Bubbly boys playing in the busy streets of Kinshasa
Men brewing special coffee near corners of Mombasa
Women beading around some parts of Luanda
Elders sharing stories in the hearty homes of Rwanda
Lovely smiles from the stunning faces of Eritrea
Heartfelt love from the people of Liberia
Eternal Spirit of Ubuntu in Tanzania
Eye-catching mosaics around Tunisia
Vibrant Traces of Culture in Namibia
Incredible wisdom in The Gambia
Sweet melodies from Ghana
Sacred Forests in Uganda
Serene Oceans of Madagascar
Super Eagles soaring higher in Abuja
Special works of art from Addis Ababa
So many diamonds around Botswana
Abundant copper from magnificent Zambia
Hidden Treasures in Zimbabwe
This is no ordinary continent
But a place of contentment
Everyone who comes here
Is welcome at a first glance
By the greatness of Africa!
Geometry shows us God’s great fondness for lines
In the gazelles, birds and butterflies as well.
Everywhere we search in the midst of His designs,
Even in the sea we find many an animal in his shell.
Not stopping His ingenious design with mere creatures,
Or objects He fondly blesses with roundness,
That appear most often among celestial features,
He drew woman’s figure most curvy and boundless.
The womanly figures are of an exquisite selection,
Running the perfect outline from legs to hair,
Expressing haunting beauty with divine perfection,
And designed to please the heart willing to dare.
With circular lines it seems that He began
Depicting the face and hair with round design.
He moves then to the bust with a span,
And with symmetry amazes with the circular line.
Now on to the waist with its hyperbolic form,
He shapes with alluring symbolic notion.
Now cycling to legs God departs the norm,
And now straight lines obtain His promotion.
All of these sacred shapes and borders,
God draws from the world’s great sweep.
He conveys them from land’s four corners,
Cross mountains high and valleys deep.
God is the master of geometric arts;
He is the architect of spherical dreams.
And He fashions woman’s celestial parts
From the lines on landscape’s four extremes.
Now all of this is just to make very clear
My prayer that you be my spherical dream,
With starlight in your flowing hair,
Your glory will fuel my modest esteem.
There's a stirring within the herd
They sense the rains are on their way
Lush pastures their thinking conferred
Soon masses in migration display
Such desires go so undeterred
Marching bovidae, determination
The Serengeti's their destination
Columns roam like wandering shadows
Skirted by Zebra and Grant Gazelles
Dust clouds in airborne throw
With each mile these masses swell
God's gift will soon be bestowed
Upon a clearing appears the Grumeti River
Next if we endured we'd surely shiver
Banks of steep, foaming rapids thunder
Crocodileans surface peer, awaiting
Whom goes first is sure to be plundered
Will the next escape this frenzied sating
Or dragged torn twisted, surface under
Carnivorous carnage amidst crimson flow
Still there are hoards this migration shows
.
Dominica
Gawaine Caldwater Ross
We share melons and papayas
beneath a sun benevolent.
A salty breeze, the river is cool,
and the passion flower blossoms
are fragile but rich. We stroke
their fragrance and sip intoxication -
we slip a little further and
I find myself afraid of love.
Papaya trees are many breasted,
the flesh of mangoes, exquisite.
My restlessness is like the surf
seeking coral lagoons.
You speak in certitudes,
I dream of them.
Beyond the coconuts shining
in your eyes
I see gazelles outrunning lions -
you laugh,
I recall November sleet.
Your stainlessness and artless joviality
are in contrast to my venery.
But in honor of your being
I play Schumann on the flute.
You respond with a noble clarinet,
Royal, but so voluptuous.
You think love means saying “Yes,”
I think love means bleeding.
You say, “That's a grim thought.”
I say, “Life is grief.”
We are divided by that which attracts us -
even as you speak of trust
I see the void behind the stars.
You speak of freedom,
possibilities, and taking risks;
but I have been to prison:
Saturn has bound me with rings of lead,
the acid rain has stained my face.
We lay our cards out on the purple silk:
today they say I am the Hanged Man.
Are you the Queen of Swords,
or the Priestess holding
nine bright cups of Dionysian wine?
You smile and ask,
“Where, oh Where, is the
void in ecstasy?”
We strip and go against the current.
The water here is swift and cold,
the sunlight revels on your
scintillating buttocks.
I follow towards the cataract
and drink the water that has caressed your thighs.
You shriek, the monkeys leap,
and I wrestle with a jaguar.
You summon me to join you
high up on the rocks
where the moss is a foot thick.
I manage half a fervent laugh
And watch you diving into pools.
Opals ripple on the water.
We gather oleander, orchids,
Lilies and lotuses
and weave them into garlands
and in the falls we
linger in the timeless spray.
They call me Leo,
Leopard is my full name,
I live in the jungle,
With my family and kids,
and we get to have fun,
I Love the other animals but,
I cant deny the fact that,
I love killing gazelles,
zebras and all animals that are edible,
It's the only way I can survive
in this cruel environment.
I am a carnivore,
a meat eater.
I sometimes wish I was a Herbivore,
a plant eater,
like gazelles or Zebras or cows,
I sometimes wish I was an omnivore too,
like humans,
like Mr. Kamau,
I could be eating plants and animals,
and I would not kill every day of my life.
I love basking and taking a walk,
sometimes it gets boring here in the jungle
and all I can do is sit
on top of a tree and stare down.
How I sometimes wish I was the king
of the jungle Like Mr. Lion,
He is big and mighty and
the type of animal you wish you were.
He is proud but then again,
not as proud as the peacock family,
Peacocks are pretty with so many colours.
But all the same.
I thank God am not as ugly as Mr. Hyena .
(I hope he wont hear me)
who for the last 6 months
has been trying to strike up a friendship with me.
But no!!!!!
He may have spots like me but
he doesn't look one bit like me.
It would be a bit different
if we were talking about Mr. Tiger and Cheetah
who I cant deny are my close relatives.
We even look alike in some way don't you think?
Oh well, I can spend all my time hear talking about my life but I have some brothers who live in the land of snow.
The are so beautiful and we like calling them Snow Leopards.
Longing to go to Africa
Babe I know this is spontaneous
and we're just coming off a good food fight
but listen, not to the paradox,
let's go to Africa.
Wouldn't that be a poke in the night,
a dip in the Nile,
a sweet roll in the oven,
a swing in the jungle?
Listen babe
... think babe of all the fun
... we'll be having.
You'll see,
I promise.
We'll leave the hotel occasionally
and when we do
let's ...
let's please
see the safaris and rivers.
You must promise
... and
to let me ride a tiger,
deal?
Good.
I must ride a tiger.
We'll do the Serengeti,
I heard that's the beast,
home of the tigers
... for brave tiger riders like me
... hence I'll be your hero.
Can you see the cameras clicking on us?
We'll be quite the item
and get this, babe
we'll get you up there
on an elephant.
Doesn't that sound exciting?
I can see us now
in matching khakis and bandannas,
hair breezing in the wind,
out there on the grasslands
with the blue wildebeests, gazelles, zebras,
riding in tandem
under the African sunflower,
baking our busybody.
... And get this babe we'll be bonding
that's the main thing,
us catching jungle fever,
swinging from tree to tree,
branch to branch,
uncorking champagne under starlight.
... And
I would love to see you smile
longer than the Tanzania
and happy like a giraffe,
longing to go,
longing to go to Africa.
4/18/17
10 placements-nothing again. A person can write so
indigenous to the topic, paint it vivid with color ... fun, humor,
excitement, and I'll even go so far as to say, more so than
others-and the results, yes the results ... sniff of crap again.
Stalks, many sightings
Cheetah leaps out, full throttle
Gazelles graze, piece reigns
When Simba roars,
his den of lions go cheetah white lie
crouching tiger kill for him
His regal, imperial mane
flows on his neck
like a Roman waving flag
Simba paws walk on
sycophant legion fealty
He demands servile porcelain alabaster loyalty,
as he sits on
an ivory throne
of greed nobility
King of the jungle ...
surveys all he sees
His expanding Tiberius kingdom
is his manifest cerulean destiny
Simba the white lion
has hungry indigo eyes,
which Caesar circle the seas
Insatiable appetite ... he must eat
Take the lion share ...
let the gazelles roam democratic grazing free,
until the next voter feeding time
Simba roars his white lies loudly,
with Tarzan dictator authority
Hear the war drumbeat roars —
King of the jungle speaks
predator words of peace and prosperity
But the carnage sounds
in the jungle background
suggest otherwise
For the king of the jungle
has ravenous jaws and bloody paws
Leaving a Darwinian trail
of carcasses half-eaten, and bones gnawed
Simba the white lion
pounces on negligent pray unsuspecting
He saber-tooth mouth crucify chew all caul dreams
Simba the white lion
devours with Cain guile
all Abel-body Calvary chivalry
Today, gazelles be running
in the global savannah, carelessly
Tomorrow, they be resting
in the belly of the beast
The next day after ...
the king of the jungle sleeps —
Dreaming of nothing,
but to hunt and eat
The look bestowed upon me makes me yearn
A smile that speaks of favored pleasures near
You blow upon the embers make them burn
Shut out the world; enclose me in your sphere
I feel within your arms the burning urge
To claim and make me yours as captive one
Your raw desire now with mine does merge
Your searing hands defy the blazing sun
Scorched in the flame of your inferno’s heat
I moan your name as soul and body melt
Hands clutch and twist the damp and crumpled sheet
As hungry lovers we the rapture felt
A cooling breeze from open window seeps
As sated love once more in dreamland sleeps
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Song of Solomong 2: 5 - 7
Strengthen me with raisins,
refresh me with apples,
for I am faint with love.
6 His left arm is under my head,
and his right arm embraces me.
7 Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you
by the gazelles and by the does of the field:
Do not arouse or awaken love
until it so desires.