Best Gluttons Poems
I am poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I wonder what mortal mirrors reflect...
For me, all races deserve respect.
I often hear the splashing of rain,
and flood rushing down the drain.
I see the petals of the morning bloom
and dawn peeping into my dusky room.
I strive to forget the tales of ages long gone
when dreams died as deeds undone.
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I pretend to be a terrific tree
sapping the tears that betide me.
I feel old scars opening each time
my heart tends to commit new crime.
I touch the heart of the gentle moon
and worry if the Sun will shine at noon.
I cry for the youth and aged in need
and for gluttons in the grave of greed.
I hear the whispers of wealth and wisdom
flowing freely from the field of freedom...
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I understand the chains of our choices;
frailties of our fate; our darn differences.
I say let us not preen on what is not ours,
we will leave them in the six-feat towers.
I crave a world without woes and worries;
the mortal mall of matchless memories
where everyone trades a lasting legacy...
and love is shared on the platter of mercy.
I long to see gray skies turn blue
and my sweetest dreams come true.
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
Categories:
gluttons, analogy, poetry, poets,
Form:
Couplet
Mama Africa,
Land of my ancestors' birth;
Source of all mankind,
the once Shangri la of mother earth.
Stir up the spirit of the Mau-Mau in vibrato on the bongo.
Your ways are far higher than the crags of the Kilimanjaro.
Let the cry for freedom rides the winds of the Serengeti,
and the walls of segregation fall like confetti.
With careful utterances,
ransack the minds of the pig-headed souls.
Uhuru milele! Milele bure!
Adamantly, gluttons deprive her black gold.
In the villages, griots will invoke a new story.
Follow the way of the lion,
and watch out for the hyenas.
When the rivers are dry in Tanzania,
danger resides in the mud.
Remember; when liberty is threaten in Somalia,
freedom is written in blood.
Blood stained her crevices with love;
black sons’ and black daughters’ blood.
Categories:
gluttons, angstfreedom,
Form:
Rhyme
QUESTIONS OF BALANCE: A JEREMIAD
Why is it at 70 politicians are still underage
To assume political offices
And at 30 youths are overage to begin a professional career?
What divine strength hath a leader at 75
When a mandatory retirement awaits civil servants at 65?
Why should the government empowers the youths with $75 in 2 years
And expects them all to have own businesses
But civil servants who earn over $300 per month in 30 years
Are finding it difficult to own a garden or a store?
How is it our politicians could expend billions
To defect, campaign and give kickbacks
But would wait until the World Bank borrows them some millions
To provide a borewell drinking water?
How can they say the national treasury has collapsed to employment
Yet billions are looted and millions wasted on foreign fantasies?
Why should the achievement of our political endorsement
Be signed to MOUs as though we lack understanding?
Why should our lawmakers make laws that hound the masses
And not against their own chronic excesses and excuses?
Why should the wealthy politician vote a project for the poor
Assigned the execution of the project to himself and loot the funds?
Why do our lawmakers never make laws to free the masses
From poverty and political swindlers?
Why should the agency that fights corruption be corrupt?
Why should gluttons preside over the meager meals of the masses?
Why should the leader not serve today and the servant lead tomorrow?
Why should professional bandits be our bankers?
Why should 5% of public servants consume 60% of the nation’s wealth?
Why should a politician be a party leader, counsellor, chairman, governor, senator… still desperate to lead
And all behind his trails are poverty and anguish?
Why should a politician with obscene wealth hidden somewhere
Tell his people that their poverty and problem is Hausa, Igbo, Christian, Muslim, APC, PDP…?
And why is our nation over-laboured by multiplets of cultural, social
Political, religious questions awaiting caesarean responses?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind!
Categories:
gluttons, abuse, africa, anxiety, corruption,
Form:
Free verse
In the mountains,
Where hope rides the pines
Promises slide across smooth stones
Composing songs from the laughing stream
In these mountains,
Where silence reflects the soul
Pouring joy through the ferns and laurels
Caressing the spirit with starlight glimpses
In the mountains,
Where dreams raise awareness
From the sighs of the moss carpeted caverns
Amid the relics of forest trails, incredible!
In these mountains,
Where ideas sing from the stars
Lifting spirits with melodies pure of heart
Restoring peace in the praises so sensitive, alive
In the mountains,
Where details of melancholy flood
The rivers and creeks with sincerity, serenity
Overflowing the banks with sweetest intimacy
In these mountains,
Where we are gluttons for pure harmony
Singing grace through the night, into the dawn
While the rising sun reflects the shadows of old storms
In the mountains,
Where the pale moon emerges from the dark clouds
Erasing all the gloom, restoring confidence, inspiring
Breathless praise, sincere faith, prayers that brighten
In these mountains,
Where God’s blessings abound
We remember – we accept – we regret
The moments when we neglected the beauty…
Mountains so magnificent, we rejoice
Unearthing the mystery… glorious peaks
Rising to the skies, breaking through the clouds
Resurrecting the wonder of His creativity, His ingenuity
The gift of these mountains is surely a masterpiece
A work of the Master who made every dream
Including the dream of a heart who continues to believe
Here in these mountains, there is unending peace!
One in Five 2 poetry contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Phrase: 4. The pale moon emerged from dark clouds
July 17, 2022
Categories:
gluttons, appreciation, beautiful, inspirational, mountains,
Form:
Free verse
He is addicted to the bottle
Despite what his words tell a friend
His hands reach out to the liquor
As if it contains the cure for his failures
He takes a drink, never thinking
Of all the pain this poison will bring
To him, his wife and their children
Everyone who truly cares about him.
Everyone has seen this demon
Bring greater men to their demise
Without a second chance to stop him
He’ll be filling up his entire heart and life
With a sickening scent of alcohol that
Makes him more brainless than anything else
He’ll keep drinking until this strong drink
Kills him – and his family will grieve for
The one they knew before he was a drunk
He’s addicted to the thing that hurts
Him and everyone who cares for him
He thinks he can handle one drink of it
But a few bottles later tells the true story
Even though the bottle is his best friend
It’s actually the enemy to the one inside him
He thinks it can mend whatever hurts him
While it actually ruins what’s left within
Alcoholic, lost in the toxic liquid
That destroys more than his sanity
This drink will take away all that is good
And leave a broken down failure, most likely
Dead on the inside before he actually dies
Proverbs 23:20f: "Do not join those who drink too much wine or gorge themselves on meat, for drunkards and gluttons become poor, and drowsiness clothes them in rags." ... Ephesians 5:18: "Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit."
Categories:
gluttons, addiction, drug, loss, love
Form:
Free verse
Anti-Terrorist Poem
Terrorists, terrorize
Hypnotized puppet
Burning the religious rubber
Bombing the innocent,
Suicide bombers locked up in
denial,
It's like a disease created to
please,
The devil's own tease.
Terror is their weapon
They pray in Fear monger's
temple
Burning with hate.
Is your god a coward?
Whom you do believe.
Is he numb and dumb idol
Fools you in your sleep.
One thing left is stand,
Not respond with fear,
To the wicked terror,
We, who are not afraid, shall
take back the power
And break those terrorizing
gluttons
Categories:
gluttons, absence
Form:
Free verse
9/9/17
Don't f*****
Push my buttons
Really, really buzzin
Often high and drunken
Just trying to function
Stand in the way, and your ship will be sunken
No time for interruptions
If it is not about cash, end of discussion
Cold blooded
Leaving others gutted
Especially those that can't be trusted
A bunch of gluttons
And so much corruption
By the hundreds
Not dozens
They've been bluffin'
And frontin'
I wasn't
Really came up from nothin'
Did my own thing, got somethin'
And my name buzzin'
I blame myself for any self-destruction
No time for assumptions
Even after disruptions
And conundrums
Experiments continually conducted
Tools eventually rusted
Volcanoes erupted
Animals got hunted
Areas flooded
What some people just did
Left me disgusted
Which is why they quickly got punished
Since no one else did, I stood up to such rubbish
I was way down in a dungeon
Then clarity, came all of a sudden
Got out of there, and reached the summit
Way above it
With no intention to plummet
Or kick the bucket
While saying "f*** it"
Got strong like Paul Bunyan
Inside and out, no matter the obstruction
Categories:
gluttons, dark, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
Nurembered days
Numb
Dumb
The pain
insane
a breast to suckle
an ear to hear
walking dead
late but prayed
Gods fell asleep
Mortals played
tumors grow
Its the doctors show
Liver or die
Drink my dreams
or do I try
Lettuce and rabbits
seduction and undergarments
exposed in the rain
dancing in pain
rendezvous
cafes and empty tables
candles burnt
loves description like flames
fades away
easy to say
no one to sway
who the hell wants to stay
This world is red
This life is spoked and bloody
Emotions drowned in daily strife
Memories drift
like snow in the wind
Silent dreams
Erotic dancers
Colombian cafes
My head a daze
Long ago, when the piano was tuned
I was a player
I was formidable and great
now
I drink in the last call
fulk the life and I want the hell
do I cry in Belgium
Fabulous
I am not a nice guy
But the metro is here
so goodbye
Suicide tracks
and
Musical notes
chasing the hate of isis tears for fears
Butterflies trump ruby foo’s buffet
for tyrants rant
While fools become gluttons
Categories:
gluttons, allusion, analogy, boat, culture,
Form:
Free verse
Each time i scolded and abused you
It send fear into your humble heart.
High tense in the mind with high wind.
I made you cry under no offense
Battered you like a slave
And your tender heart forgives .
emotional tears gushed out from your white eyes
pleading mercy but, it touches me not.
All i am interested is what i wanted
Not what your beautiful life desires.
i thrust you aside in pain but peace p revealed.
No motherly emotions attached between me and you
BUt your tender mind seek wisdom.
I nagged and complained always,
But the wind take them away from your heart
Perhaps fatherly love means a lot than mine.
I hated you but you loves me thousands times.
On the the bed beside your companion, the wall
I pushed you aside and hit you thousand times,
YOu never complain to any one rather to the wall.
I made the street your home,
and the gluttons feed you and the flies your play mate>
You certainly have come to stay .
Yo may think all your thought, you may,
But your idea and dreams shan't see the day light
Hear evidence the nature gives judgement.
i place no mouldy margin upon what i should imagine.
I made you fatherless because of ques t for fame,
the dream i had was to wash you away.
The under world would be a better home for you .
Because i have no human feelings.
You cry to be free like the hibiscus flowers,
But i frustrated your dreams
And thrust you to the dark night
Where demons fear to tread.
I have no heart as a mother
And you still loves me.
On the couch you laid soliloquizing
Wet the pillor every night for my seek
In the mountain i hung my ears
living life as i wanted.
i rejected in the morning
In the afternoon i whipped you,
And in the night, you were left untouched.
i left you with no food .
Behind my eyes and my mind raging in anger
Wildly as a hungry hyena
Seeking for time to take away your life
You proved difficult right from the day i conceived you.
You are of a great person
Telling me what you wanted
Intimacy and the bond between us i cut.
with days of illusion and abandoned dreams
And sleeplessness with agony.
Twelve years of suffering poured on you from my stony heart
IN you i have rediscovered the memory of my blood.
Categories:
gluttons, abuse,
Form:
Elegy
Gluttons, paupers, tis not thee I address,
Rather ye men, middle income meager.
Dames hast thine coffers slightly beleaguered?
Garments bejeweled, appetites sated?
Vultures dine thy muscles of toils weary.
Lazy bones remain roadside, pauper's soup.
Wages earned, eggs income, gathered hen coop,
Through petty tasks, worthlessness abated.
Gentlemen, tis advice long awaited.
Find ye equal love, damsels of mind fair.
If thee seek only fair face, silky hair,
Coffers of paupers surely tis fated.
Hasten, young men, to thy ladies true worth.
For prosperity not, befell thy birth.
Categories:
gluttons, perspective, poetry, society, write,
Form:
Canzone
The sun kisses my skin with a thousand burning lips,
Making it sensitive beneath my gentle fingertips.
The shade offers no comfort in the miserable heat
I wish there was someplace cool where I can retreat
So I head to the beach where the water is so blue,
Ocean so clear that you can see straight through
Seagulls selfishly screaming “MINE” at everything
Loving the noise that these winged gluttons sing
Sand so soft that my feet sink in and disappear
Children laugh gleefully as they jump off the pier
Waves hit the shore leaving behind thick seaweed
And hermit crabs race back to the water with speed
Beach volleyball games and dogs catching Frisbees
Teenagers flying their kites in the soft, pleasant breeze
Ladies sunbathing while their men apply sunscreen
Laying there peacefully and looking very serene
I’m standing on the beach taking in my surroundings
As the burn from the sun continues its pounding
I run into the water to cool off in the sun’s ire
And the ocean is where I relax from the wicked sun’s fire
Like ice cold lemonade caressing a parched throat
The water refreshes me as I slowly drift afloat
The water kisses my skin with a thousand soothing lips,
Making it silky smooth beneath my gentle fingertips.
Categories:
gluttons, nature, sea, water, beach,
Form:
Rhyme
We are gluttons for each other,
We are insatiable,
We are irresistible, indistinguishable,
We are sin, sex & soul.
We are Ultimately Satisfied.
We are mutton to most,
We are lamb to one,
We are as one,
We are broken when alone,
We are Utopian Serene.
We are breakfast, lunch & dinner,
We are every snack in between,
We are every course of intercourse,
We are always hungry,
We are Utterly Saturated.
We are forbidden fruit,
We are delightful delicacy,
We are lustful lovers,
We are star-crossed sinners,
We are Unbridled Sensuality.
We are bloated, reeking of each other,
We are feast scented,
We are overweight with passion,
We are cumbersome with lust,
We are Undeniably Sore.
We are gourmet connoisseurs,
We are squeezing out every sigh,
We are lapping up every last drop,
We are gorging on today, on us,
We are United Souls.
We are US.
Categories:
gluttons, love, passion
Form:
Free verse
Of them our rulers
To the pauperised people.
Of a kingdom surrounded
By millions of the “Almajeris” .
Of looters in power up towers
Thinking not to leave forever.
Of the Northern cabals
With donkey years in power,
Of them with the stench of the “Almajeris”.
Of the Bush –Pig with the
Hyenas on the Rock
Of them the gluttons and the greed
Of them that devours our resources daily
Of them the Southern vultures
That condemns us into misery.
Of them that worn for millions
Toga of millions of poverty . . “Almajeris”
Of them the Urchins who
Made us suffer amidst bounty.
Off them the Predator millionaires,
We shall seize power for the millions
For the time to wrestle and dazzle
To yank off the toga of the “Almajeris” is now.
Alayande Stephen. T
1.05pm
22nd of July, 2006
On our way to Kaduna NCP/NCC Meeting
Precisely at the one of the garages, we saw it happened
NB-The word "Almajeris" is an Hausa Language from Nigeria used for the
wretched ,tattered looking young children in the Northern part of Nigeria. Kaduna
is a State in Nigeria.
Categories:
gluttons, adventure, angst, children, life,
Form:
Free verse
In this farm where boats sail on oil,
On overflowing oil, we yet live in a dream.
The things we see should not be said
The things we say should not be heard
And the things we hear
Are grossly absurd.
Such absurdities as
Trees growing upside down,
Fishes fly and birds swim.
The father and the son cannot
Look in each other’s eyes again.
Now we know they lied
Without a twitch on their eye lids, to us
When they said we elected them.
They stole our trust and our treasury,
They hijacked the future of children to come.
The goats live by the fowls
Or so they say
But they are entitled to everything
And the people nothing.
They call themselves upper class
And the people in nationwide broadcast,
“Ordinary Nigerians, Common Man.”
Alas, such puerile nomenclatures
For my fellow countrymen.
In this country of ours,
Those we trusted with crowns and scepters
Have shamed us with avaricious appetite for funds.
They gather like gluttons at the capital
To plunder the national pot of soup.
Just like George Orwell’s animals,
They are more equal than the people.
So neither the bird
Nor the tree branch can rest again.
Categories:
gluttons, patriotic, political, satire, people,
Form:
Didactic
The rise in prices
Price increase becomes
Price adjustment
But the rise is something different
Unlike the tide
It only rises
And never falls
It's seasonal
Just like the durian
Every year at least once
With the Financial Report
And Unlike the durian it seldom falls
If it doesn't rise
The piece of cake is smaller
Less tasty
If it falls
The cake is even smaller
And maybe changes flavour
Unlike the fall of durians
In the olden days
Which makes everybody happy
Especially the poor planters
And the gluttons
The rise in prices
Makes most of the people sad
Especially the under income
And everybody centres on the rise
Has forgotten the rise of wages
I hope one day the wages will rise too
And never fall
Categories:
gluttons, life, poverty,
Form:
Free verse