Best Irrigates Poems
In love I’m!
I swear,
not to you
but
to the seed you planted inside my heart
the seed my blood irrigates
each and everyday.
far from you
I see the kindness of your innocent eyes
your voice creating sweet melodies
I swear to you my culture,
you are that perfect woman
commanding me
not to do wrong
you are my inspiration
far appassionato with your smile
in love with your photo
I swear to you my culture
my love is strong
and
really.
Dear Sir Thomas:
Angels
never fly
too far away.
Cherubs
are
pious messengers
cloaked in
ribbed-serpentine
streamers;
bathing
themselves
in a bemused
shower
of rainbow-lit
banderoles.
Stifled
in an unseen
internal silence -
a clandestine court
of guardians;
our private angels,
unassumingly,
fold their
winged extremities
and gloriously
chant messianic
chorales without an
operatic note
perceived.
No gestures.
Nothing mumbled.
The chosen few...
we know better.
Dear Sir Thomas:
Weren't we
uproarious then?
Biting our lips
and neurotically
watching re-runs
of Laugh-In;
it reassembled
our gamed hurt.
It provided us
with focus,
but now - I'm
acting as a
disguised charlatan,
borrowing
strength
from the cinders
of a simple
nature like yours
(to camoflauge )
my own
internal
disfiguration.
As for the
brokenhearted -
they silently
weep.
Dear Sir Thomas:
Our heads are
turned towards
your smiling face.
Remind us not
about an
unspoken unwanting
or a silent forgetting -
yet submerge us in
the rememberance of
continued happiness.
The grins you
spread upon our brows -
were instantaneous
and infectious.
Your wonder.
Your magic -
irrigates our
veins like a
remembered
shuffle
of a
whispered
solitaire for
two.
Happiness -
you reminded us
not to forget about -
the enjoyable
outcome of an
upturned frown.
For it is our time -
it is
our moment...
to grasp
a minute
in our hands,
within a second,
and
ponder it's memory
for an eternity.
We all trip
upon stupidity.
We all shoot
and
stumble upon
the benign.
Dear Sir Thomas:
An anonymous
angel
spilled my soul
into tomorrow's
chalice
drowning me
in your
splendid
miraculous dreams.
For that
special invitation -
I wipe away my
prayer-filled tears
and thank you -
as you now romp
within an angelic entourage
of embraced
enchantment.
Goodnight, Sir Thomas.
In memory of a dear poet and friend - Thomas Bell
Monday:
He sharpens his dream
By the hone of the illusion,
Under his arm
He put roses
And a bit of of life's basils
Then goes to his work.
--------
Tuesday:
He says to the beloved:
Tomorrow, when the dreams tree leaves
On our stature,
And the light leapt smiling
In Our eyeballs
Humbly will come the sea
And give us its waves.
--------
Wednesday:
From the breast of the clouds he suckles
Five songs,
And by the stone
He slaughters the weathercock.
--------
Thursday:
He irrigates his memoirs
With the water of trouble,
In the evening
He expectes to be kidnapped.
--------
Friday:
When he comes to the cafe
He drinks from his cup
A quantity of eulogies
About the members of his tribe,
And when he goes out
He buries his misgivings in his pockets.
--------
Saturday:
He goes to the city bar
And behind him he pulls
The chariot of the grief,
Instills in the field of his body
Seedlings of the wine
To make himself melted.
--------
Sunday:
His feet take him
Where the nightmares of the road are,
His eyes lurk among the passers-by.
"Seaside Romance"
in the twilight of golden dawn
as amber clouds embrace the starry heavens
faint sashay of soft wind chimes dance
while thoughts trickle to memories
inhaling scenes of sweet love last night
on the ocean waves of pure delight
as incense permeates the austere horizon
the swirling seaside engulfs footprints
of lovers etched in warm blazing sand
silhouettes of passions form soothed by ocean waves
infused into the caverns of elegant emotions
kissed by an opulent ocean
with true devotion imprinted for eternity
a candlelight escapade irrigates
in melodious symphony
as loving touches graced silky skin
bronzed by radiant sunlight
in quiet interlude
upon the ocean waves of blue
hungry mouths fashioned breathless sighs
while pristine pastel mountains
smiled a fleeting glance
captivated by a seaside romance
as Summer fun evolved.
.
*For Nathan's Free Verse Contest
Soul sits on a dream
Ponders on wonder;
Time slips away
~~~~~~~~~
Cutie cutie pie
Styles a sweet smile;
Innocent allure
~~~~~~~~~
Blessings now glow
Over the rainbow;
Watch dreams come true
~~~~~~~~~
Stray breeze chills,
Scented shivers;
Airy evening delights
~~~~~~~~~
Mystic moments charm
Calm demeanour;
Witty textures spool
~~~~~~~~~
Joy navigates
Cheer irrigates;
Peace meditates
~~~~~~~~~
Poolside garden
Plumeria blooming ample;
Ecstatic allure
~~~~~~~~~
Skyline colours
Blaze of sunset;
Evening interlude
~~~~~~~~~
Be savvy now
Love yourself first;
Count your blessings
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
11 April 2016
Singapore
Falling leaves
Paragraphs wind blown;
Telling a story
~~~~~~~~~
Two carrot cakes
Different recipes;
Delightful outcomes
~~~~~~~~~
House work calls
Busy with home work;
Fastidious hands
~~~~~~~~~
Watch what happens
Random rain wets;
Harsh heatwave irrigates
~~~~~~~~~
Yes once again
That time of year;
Haze adds colour
~~~~~~~~~
Geopolitics confers
Conflict confronts calm;
Uneasy peace
~~~~~~~~~
This great stretch
Sea and boundaries;
So many claims
~~~~~~~~~
Difficult choices
No middle path;
Fumble taking sides
~~~~~~~~~
So much here
Activity consigns;
Cash like ammo
~~~~~~~~~
Profound question:
Why ask why?
So many times
~~~~~~~~~
Cheery children
Play prunes prank;
Laughter frolics
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
09 April 2016
Singapore
Lute
Curved, inviting, light,
it has the look of antique ships,
a galleon bulge of straight-grained woods.
Fretful cat-gut cords
coiled taut by silver screws
above the calibrated neck
conceal a thousand foot-pound pirouette.
Child of Sirocco and Spain,
veils, fans, brocade, and lace,
olive, vine, and orange surprise,
its plangent sound irrigates the moonlit air
peeks through black-eyed jalousies.
Dowland, Cutting and our solid Bach
crocheted arabesques of tuneful notes
like pearls, rubies, emerald stones,
to pluck or tease from that dark pupil
a winking smile of treble Sun.
In my sleep;
the dream came, like a thorns to my bed,
So I wept.
We deceived! the dream and I :
By insomnia,by our footsteps,
Our blood,our voice and by the clamorous love,
But we were vigilant for the distance between us,
Vigilant; for the laughter which always fails by the cough.
In my sleep! the dream came,
My eyes darken with sadness,
But you were in the dream fly like a bird,
Flying as if between your wings! My desired death.
As if you were an angel rises up, above the horizon,
like an Aldebaran star.
As if the sun, wherein you are! wherein you are,
Flying away in your heaven.
You! Oh love that irrigates my sight
If I saw you in a dream.
On the right track
If you're sure you're on the right track
Positive spirit enlightens you
Pure heart never deceives brother
and never let you draw leg back ward
The world is in their fists always
Who drove themselves for others welfare
Think and nod your head dear
If you feel yes here you're
Person to person's target may be different
But reaching point should be top
Who need help and association
For the betterment of country's welfare
If optimist irrigates water in the root
No need there appears to sprinkle
Water on leaves with effort brother
If you're sure you're on the right track
It is the need of time to come on track
Time is same everywhere wouldn't be false
Youth of the country and all fellow beings
Involve to kill shark for the right track.
I.
Receptive pools absorb emotions;
the merry and the miserable
the wicked and the pure.
In brooding contemplation
perceptive sensibilities sort
malignant from benign.
Receding into a hospital shell
drawn in by mood-tides to self-analyze,
without pinching injury to others.
II.
Old-fashioned flirtations
foster romantic affection
and trust irrigates senses with gasoline
that burns the soul from the shell;
to drown and be drowned
when resevoirs of restraint burst.
Trespassers that dupe intuition
born under the House of Home
risk fierce depths
of maternal protection
where priceless treasures
are sheltered above life
by a loyal heart,
forever safe and welcome
in the sacred sanctuary of home.
III.
The pith of a moonbaby doesn't seek
the tears of the woebegone,
the laughter of lovers
the seeds of imagination
and yet the words are seized by pincers
during the rise and fall of moods.
A wild wisp,
bound by a vile kiss.
A rogue thought,
bound by flesh and an unchaste heart.
The parallax of bliss..
An outcast shut in.
Withering in distraught.
Die blessed, you stand in my cold rot,
Your flow taught.
Beckoned by a teal whisper,
enticing the senses to tame.
Amethyst's fragile wish,
inviting my essence to claim.
Your coy hum softens the core,
irrigates lust, makes me adore.
You dissent yet knead so servile.
Sweet subject, so ready, so fertile.
My Power to poise a psyche,
to hasten growth, or de-generate.
You waste in both pity and modernity;
a Dance of Eternity.
Hold my hand and crawl against the grain.
Surround my ecstasy with your misery and pain.
Hold it tighter and crawl through your shame.
Touch my flare, forget your guilt and blame.
Adhere to me; my servitude of the Bloodmoon.
Rebound your mental plea, succulent flame.
Centuries accrued in its elegant name.
Bask with me, potently; impel and preordain.
That gilded cage
with its…
heavy quilted,
ironclad armour
is Home
to her soul
She's been busy
racking up layers
while her soul burrows
deeper
and deeper
yielding to the cage's allure
as it whirls through
timeless wormholes
birthed by life's orbit
Her soul carries on
swimming through
Sands of eternity
Oblivious
to the obvious realities
that cage is a Shield
though at times
it obscures the view
in its cleft, a haven is found
by a soul
yearning for silence
and nursing a craving
for stillness
This chest feels empty at times
the emptiness speak volumes
it’s the kind
that never ever lets up
it’s loudly echoed
by the heart's throb
as it obediently irrigates a life
a duty
that will not be deprived
This prison is a Safe house
entry is denied to most
it’s limited to a selected few
and that
after meticulous scrutiny
exits are but a fantasy
and thus glisten
with the appeal
of the unattainable
One fateful day
her soul
in a trance
teleported into an abyss
of quickened desire
where a glimmer
of unfounded hope
sparked a wisp of courage
Her soul rose
to the occasion
and offered its fears
for a sacramental sacrifice
as its terrors rose
to the surface, she
cradled it in her arms
to soothe it
with gentle crooning
Her song a mantra of rebirth
Of a buried seed
that in time sprouts
and shoots past its confines
When it finally matures,
it will sow it’s seed
to the wind
while its fluff takes to the skies
and beyond
its roots will nourish
the womb of the mother
Her lullaby purified the sacrifice
as darkness fell
upon the cage
turning it into a cozy
cocoon…
While her soul
hibernated
She
in patience
stood sentinel
armed with love
to keep the terrors at bay
as nature sows it’s wild oats
This heart is a Fortress
that serves her soul
while it mans the post
It will remain
on ice
Standing upon it without thought passing each day,
Our terrain serves our continuity, preserving sway.
Preparing spectacular topography to which display.
Characteristics of different hue, glorious and gray,
Whispering air flows throughout the world in peace.
Silently it moves at times, often seeming to cease.
Constantly circulating in every aspect of its lease,
Violent it may become with a destructive release.
Spontaneous combustion, never proven to be,
Powers of the flame, necessity for you and me,
Discovery of fire was easy, produced heavenly.
Captivity, tricky of this beast, fire was born free.
So much abundantly occupying our spaces so near,
Producing different cultural life, to enjoy and fear.
Securing borders for explorers to travel our sphere.
Our closest boundary, but not, our final frontier,
One irrigates land, one separates flowingly diverse.
One feeds the source, only as fuel to burn, intersperse.
Naure, God's nature
well planed,well formed
A sweeter flower did nature put forth.
The craft of great fragrance,
fragrance of health and beauty
God shield the stock!
if heaven sends more supply
the fairest blossom of the garden arise.
Thier beauty irrigates the field.
Their smell brightens the earth,
their air doth charms the swelling sea
with thier pretty fragrance smell.
The stars unfolds their flaming gold.
Oh! how glad is the sky that gives the
flower a bridal splendour.
Some people believe in taking it to their Lord in prayer
I on the other hand believe in tipping it into the seas in tears
I rain all my sorrows and joys in equal measure, into water, in all the forms she chooses to embody, she that is the healing arm of my mother Lobopo, for sweet release as she runs fountains down my cheeks and my eyes become pools filling up and spilling over with pent up emotions
she in turn soaks away all my aches and pains as I gain instant relief
My third eye receives and emits healing only when its fully emerged in her clear waters when they hold stillness
reminiscent of my great grandmother's gift of sight
inherited from her own great grandmother and she in turn from hers and so forth down the mortal coil of decendancy as committed to tribal memory
She is in me and I am partly her the healing hand of my mother metsi
She has always been the belt hoisting me to my ancestors since the day of my conception as I laid at rest in her being fortified before I entered the mortal realm
She runs deep in me as she oils, dilutes, cleanses, purifies and irrigates my being, to afford me the precious gift of life
I carry the distinctive mark of mother Gaia on me and it's a shining reflection of my original root that is planted on the banks of her rivers and even ponds all over my MamaLand
Planted within reach to her waters that keep my marrow moist and supple
I am a seedling of her fontanel Aferika where the pulse of life beats so raw, tender and bold that it leaves the bittersweet taste of nostalgia clinging to all the hearts she ever encounters
and all life forms latch onto her ample teat for sustenance
I give thanks to the arm of my mother water, for giving me life,
never forsaking me in my hour of desperate need
and for keeping me connected to the original source of my being Aferika