Best Kinsmen Poems
Somewhere there is a field,
in that field there is a stone.
The men that lie beneath it,
are men that are unknown.
This solemn stone holds words
and those words it holds are few.
But those few words it holds,
are words that hold so true.
THESE BRAVE MEN STOOD UNITED
AND UNITED THEY GAVE ALL.
IN HOPES THEIR KINSMEN WOULD REMEMBER,
IF DIVIDED THEY WILL FALL.
2/15/21
BROTHER JACK
Just and passionate
A true outdoorsman year around
Cannot change his iron will—it’s like a force of nature
Kinsmen treasure his stalwart company and joy of cooking
Big man with grace in strength
Roars the engine when he waits too long
Only reads in the dead of night
Takes kids out to ski without a grumble
Holds a glass each day to toast the dusk
Escapes the winter to fish the Gulf Coast
Rigs up shelters for wandering bluebirds
“Of all flowers, methinks a rose is best.” – William Shakespeare, The Two Noble Kinsmen
Sweet Rose, for ages you have blessed the human race
with your beauty, elegance and grace.
You show yourself to us in so many ways . . .
as miniature, teacup, floribunda, rambler,,climber, and
as so many other species of loveliness - a true wonder of God's creations!
Whether on the ground, in the wild, in gardens, or on bushes,
you bring me such pleasure to see your many shapes and sizes.
Unlike pansies and other annual flowers,
which glimmer for a time, then die – never to regrow,
you come and you go, sweet Rose, continuously
from spring, through summer, and until the chill of fall.
Oh, sweet Rose, with your names so charming,
I love you all.
With female names like “Princess Diana,” “Lolita” or “Bathsheba,”
you intrigue me.
With names that reflect the splendor of your many hues
such as “Toffee,” the pale yellow “Sahara,” the bold “Gold Medal,”
“Beyond Blue,” and “Black Magic,”
you enchant me.
With cute precious names like “Adorable,” “or “Angel Face,”
you delight me!
My muse reawakens each spring as your glorious scent
perfumes the air, and you offer yourself to the worshiping bees.
In those rare moments when I see a hummingbird
partaking of your nectar, I nearly gasp with excitement.
Oh, sweet Rose,
whether posing steadfastly in the summer sun,
dancing with breezes, or dreaming beneath the moon,
there is no flower so popular as you.
And no other flower bears so many different meanings
as those found in the paleness or in the vibrancy of your many colors.
Innocence is your white; your friendship, yellow; your modesty, peach;
In burgundy and dark pink, you show forth admiration;
in coral, good fortune; and in light pink, the cheerfulness of youth.
In the tint of amaranth is your passion; in rare green, your freshness;
in purple, your whimsy; however, your ruby red
transcends them all with the purity of love.
The deeper your hue, the deeper is your meaning.
You are the symbol for so many things of which the poet dreams!
Oh, sweet Rose, I adore you. How you inspire me
with each bloom of your dewy petals that I chance to view.
Never do you cease to amaze me, sweet Rose.
May you blossom ever sweetly into eternity!
I saw a dazzling rose,
Whose red petals cast blinding hues upon me.
She shot her cupid arrows from the Kabaka’s backyard,
And punctured the cocoon of my innocence.
My heart burnt for a feel of her spangled petals,
My ferocious passions lost their sturdy grip on restraint as
I, like a pollen-famished bee, sniffed her whiff;
I gorged on her rosy scent, like a Don Quixote.
Then, I plucked her off the tribal bough;
And navigated the Nile River with her,
Tacked in the valves of my heart,
For a cross boarder allogamy.
What a welcome from my kinsfolk!
Furrows ridging the faces of my kinsmen,
Spittle of disgust masticating the hungry soils,
Grey beards wagging and waging a silent war;
Alien!
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
Mahatma Gandhi
Oh, Mighty Men
Oh, mighty men who think they have the right
to play at being God when they are wronged -
Throughout history we’ve seen their kind.
They think their acts of vengeance make them strong.
One insult to their reputation and
it wasn’t long ago, they’d have a duel! In modern times,
law suits they might bring, taking all they can
from their offenders, for to turn the other cheek
they think will make them weak.
Oh, mighty men, who bring their kinsmen into war
for grievous crimes that should be dealt with by a court
or leaders of nations who cannot see a side other than their own:
How many more innocents in this world must die
because of unforgiving hearts made of stone and pride?
Written for a contest but also this kind of thing made me very mad to think about it!
I don't have many angry poems,but hopefully my anger for these men shows in this poem!!
I have my constitution
which exists in the tablets of my mind,
It's not an illusion,
but an ally, a friend,
A guide to perfection,
Perverts the way of the pervert,
A guide to perfection
for the immortal, mortal and mortality.
There is a constitution,
Perpetuated by coercion,
Written by human distortion,
With zigged and zagged expectation,
Oriented to insufficiency,
Loops that our leaders pay to see,
Whose sowers sow carefully,
lest they close their own way.
Of a doctrine hollow I know,
Often planted on the way of justice,
Where the little of a cobbler is taken,
To spare the enthusiasm of a regime,
A policy set out for heaven,
But creates hell just before,
When infants survive just long enough,
To witness the state-of-the-art slaughter of their beloved.
An outline of legal malpractices,
constitution of an immoral basis of morality,
Thieves defining the principle of equity,
Harlots given virgin reception,
A fugitive in the state house,
A constitution which siphons justice,
Is your pamphlet of statements,
Written in pencil and erased in ink.
That's not my constitution,
Which differentiates between a ***** and hero,
Implemented sparingly by hungry lawyers,
Who when full do more harm,
To warrant extermination of infants,
And offer them a premature state burial,
Where man slaughters his kinsmen,
For the interests of a constitution.
Written 15/06/2012 MUTHOKA JACOB.
A reaction to failed confidence in the constitution whose makers become the prefects over its interpretation.
Bouts of lightning flashes,swirls
And lightens up the pitch, black night
Of our neck of the woods
Tailgated by stealthy footsteps
Of growling, grunting, moaning and roaring thunder,
As in gnashing and grinding of canine
As rain, like beads of sweat, acne and goose pimples
Break out on my forehead and entire body,
Sprouting like yam tendrils from the earth;
meandering as water in rain gutter
From a million hair follicles,
Teasing my entire body
And finally docking by hook or crook
Like a boat at it's embedded tributary
Between my negritude toes
I google in consternation, bewilderment
At your obstinate attempt
As pestle on bits of grain in motar
To pound a defiant, renegade earth
Back against the wall in rope-a-dope
To submission and surrender
Powerful strokes of koboko whips
Descending from heaven
As plague upon pharaoh and his kinsmen,
Drumming endlessly on thatch roofs
And corrugated iron roofs alike
Concocting rhythms more intoxicating
And damning than heavy metal music
Images of African women
Resiliently scurrying, shuffling,
Between thatch huts and drooling rain;
Scuttling to retrieve rain water in pails
And ebony children
Drenched in rain like weather beaten bats
Savoring every drop from the whinning sky
Rain,
I yearn for your spirit
But dread your fiery, fury,
Flash and flood
Come rain, soak me in your mist;
Drape me in your dew and moisture
Rain,
Your ghost evokes succor and misery!
Before I tramp the course of my cause,
A family indeed we were, I and Kole
But I short of years from the other.
Only by words we keep memory of
A deceased mother like morning dew
Sought for by the gloaming. We knew
Only a father whose right hand does
The masculine labour and his left hand
Undertook the feminine chore
And grew us up from tendril to maturity.
Nothing moves the heart as do feelings,
The impression creates of a moving mountain.
But with one mind accept I all that be
And live a life devoid of melodrama.
Behind laughter abide the trail of tears
And in my tears was laughter’s bare face.
Work, leisure, sickness, health, joy, sadness
Nothing so transporting or so flummoxing
As to heave my heart off the balance of life.
As an ass, it does not sigh over its burdens
And the camel do not complain of thirst
Through the drought of the desert.
By Fate’s design we lost Kole who had
Found natural escapism from life in death
Whereof the dead cannot forgo to return.
I, left with a father I pampered and cared for
Always after his heels and by his lounge
And all lips hailed the good son of a father.
Time takes precedence to test all values
And fate takes no cognizance of kinship.
Every cord has been broken by birth.
Day by day is the wake of another day
And again it would go back to slumber.
Harmattan made the land to be bard,
It would smile while the sun is out but
Only to become moody with drops.
Playing, gaming, travelling, interacting,
Have excused the drabness of existence.
Below the earth is the hue of brown
And above the sky is the hue of grey.
I have left my father and home into
The city to make a fortune and a name
For they all have queried a son cannot
Always be a honeybunch to a father
But must seek to be a sovereign man.
Now I traverse through the fleeting land
All my goods and affiliates lay aside.
Being an heir, I am no heir to fleeting goods.
Why throw away the bad grains
And then store up the chaff?
I will walk through the sands of time until
I halt in my course to become sand.
A father I commit to the hands of nature
And goodwill of kinsmen and friends.
While all in Munich ready for the festival,
Ecstatic was the atmosphere surrounding the town.
Wanderers from around the globe shall appear,
Italians will come in their droves to be here,
Lucky the Germans that live in the mountains,
Lost in the spirit that runs through their veins.
Potential youngsters that have reached the age,
All keen to partake in the ritual theme,
Relish we shall on the arrival of all,
Time will stand still for the time of your life,
Yielding a stein in each hand as we go.
Lips glued to glasses in sweet melody,
It's time now to party in Munich of course,
Kinsmen or not all are made welcome,
Each fellow slapping his hand on his knee.
Travelers come from as far as Australia,
Here they all come for their fill of beer,
Essentially all here for one thing in mind,
Reminded by memories from last time around,
Either you join in or get left behind,
Skulling competitions upon every table.
Netherlands on one side, Austria the other,
Old and young shall join in as one.
Tonight is the night of this marvelous event,
Oodles of beer will be flowing so freely,
Man and woman alike shall be drunk all night,
Or at least have a good time trying,
Relying on our might to pull us all through,
Religion is here in the shape of a beer,
Opinions aside, there's just one thing in mind, and
We will party like there's no tomorrow.
Born into the family of seven
Handed over the last born baton
By the other descendants of the
Pa Noah “Mekolani Olajide’s” fame.
Her sojourn in life starts from
The far down “Sora”,
Sora to “Odo Alafia”
“Odo Alafia” to the West of “Oraborode”
“Oraborode” of “Odojomu”
“Odojomu” of “Ondo town.”
She shone like a million star in all.
“Ariyayosi” grew up eating the fear
Of the Lord as Breakfast.
Brave and Intelligent “Yemi Mekolani” alias
“Mama Ondo” leaves no stone unturned as
She prepares her self-discipline, hardwork
And cleaningness as Launch.
As charismatic and erudite “Pa Noah Olajide”
“Baistically” prepares “Aribabagbojule” Dinner
Meant to cushion the effect of
Ups and downs of life
All these in the Biblical Ark of Noah
Of the Pa Noah Olajide;s house.
No wonder the other kinsmen
I mean the six others of the Olajide
Strong Spiritual Siji
Innocent Innovative Iyabo
Fearless Fascinating Fisayo
Lanky Lively Lanre
Lenient Lawful Luwale
And of course
Faithful Famous Funmi ,
Gave her all the needed love to
Make her shone like a million star.
Aunty Rose went through the rigous of
Secretariat knowledge as part of the needed
Catalyst to catapult her to Queen Elizabeth palace
Right into the waiting hands of amiable Martins Babatunde
Martino, a loving and understanding husband
Has all it takes to thank God for giving him
A good wife, indeed a vessel unto honour.
The emergence of Sade Innocent,
Later Sade Ronik, now Manchester University
Was the needed tonic for quest for greener pasture.
The lovely wen-wen sound of a new born baby
That signaled Sade’s entrance was
Not enough to distract her focus.
Similola shone like a million star
Then comes the arrival of Saintly Sagacious Sayo
And ever Stylishly Shy Seye on stage.
For the lead cast role has Scientific Splendid
Sade at the back of the stage.
As a Sister, she is a rare gem
As a Wife, she is rare breed
As a Friend, she is a rare specie
As a Confidant, she is a rare seed
As a Teacher ,she is a rare scroll
As a Mother, she is a rare plant.
Alayande Stephen .T
August 10th,2005
7.30am
Packaged for my Aunty’s Birthday in London
Its was one of my earliest poem, hence, the
Colloquial usage in the poem.
As I sit and watch
Watch you denounce the obligatory violence
Announcing and pronouncing the fabricated freedom
Joyfully commemorating and celebrating your assassinated true leaders
The enemy killed not the leaders but the ideas
You buried not them but the ideologies intended to truly liberate you
6 feet deep under the ground,
Saying they shall multiply and long live!
Chanting slogans with no comprehension just for the rhythm and sound
Deep into the ground
Burying your true liberation from colonization
Being sold the false hope of FREEDOM.
As I sit and watch
Watch black man selling his kinsmen to the highest bidder
Manipulated by the enemy to think he is better and different
Better than the poor masses who sacrificed themselves to be his ladder up
You are no different black man
You are just a slave in a black tie
They bribe you with a cheque from your forefathers’ fortune and wealth
They use you to steal in your own pocket
Stealing your legacy to your enemy
Yes they are right ‘You are different’
The difference between us is your inanity.
As I sit and watch
I watch my brothers and sisters been turned to be educated slaves
Enslaved by a mere pen and paper
A piece of paper segregating us and determining our destiny
Desired so hard by many to own to serve the enemy
They chose very well the useless texts to colonize and brainwash you
They planned so well to systematically oppress you
They took the weaker with no vision to execute their plans
As I sit and watch
I watch them say “save that one in a cell we might use him later”
I watch them say “kill that one he is too stubborn, a true leader and he is a threat”
I watch them with white collars reading the scriptures that say ‘a slave must obey his master’ and shouting PEACE BE UNTO YOU!
I watch them on the other hand brutally killing, raping and stealing.
Wake up black man and liberate yourself
No one will
Not even your so trusted leaders
You are not yet uhuru and so is your Azania
They stole your land with a bullet and you shall get it with a bullet not negotiations and commissions
Free yourself
Decolonize your education
To truly liberate the coming generation
Preach not their gospel but Africanism and socialism
ALUTA CONTINUA!!!!
#I WRITE TO PROMOTE NO VIOLENCE BUT TO LIBERATE
Brutus Iulius Trois page 08
Suddenly stillness all sounds silenced the last pirate slain.
From the bowels of the Tireme came cheers that grew louder
From men newly freed from their enslavement to the Thracian oars
Phyrgians, Scythians, Mysians and Lycians
all hittite clansmen, kinsmen and allies of the Trojan tribes
also were heard loud laudations from the surviving Phoenicians
with softer lamentations for those they had lost.
The Phoenician Teresh, the purple merchant of Tyre
swore blood brotherhood to Brutus
binding the Trojans to the Sea people in perpetuity
giving his twelfth son Tursha to squire the Trojan
Tursha terrified in the sea battle had hidden in the hold
praying to Mercury the patron of merchants
Brutus renamed the boy Turonus and proclaimed him a Trojan
Brutus sent this new nephew to tend to Imogen
In the sad sea green eyes of this foster child
Imogen saw echos of her own recent woes
comforting him she found comfort herself.
When the Trojan siege had ended by trickery
When the city was sacked and the Palladium taken
The Greeks left a land salted with blood and bone
The Greeks left a desolated city with defiled temples
The Greeks left cursed with their own profane deeds.
The Greeks left the Trojan traitor Antenor king with nothing to rule
To abate the Greek curses caused by Locrian Ajax's vile deeds
The Pythia at Delphi declared a thousand years of atonement
with two Locrian priestesses sent as sacrifices to Troy
sent to serve Minerva's temple in Troy, bearing the Ajaxian curse.
As the oracle demanded Diomedes returned the Palladium to Aeneas
Then did all Greek suffering cease, Ulysees returned home.
Hesione's son Teucer founded a new Salamis in Cyprus.
When Antenor rebuilt Troy's walls, Neptune shook them down
sending waves that washed away fields, salting the gardens again.
Apollo plagued Antenor with mice which ate the harvest to the seed.
Scamander's golden spring lambs, sickened and died
Afraid of what Minerva would do if they killed the Locrian Scapegoats
Antenor and his sons soon abandoned Troy to the Phyrgians
They sailed off seeking shelter far from this thrice cursed homeland
I WISH I WEREN’T AN ANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I wish I weren’t an ant, my survival rate is scant
Done in by a pesticide, or a shoe, as I gallivant
A solitary figure, when I roam, I am seldom seen
In Africa, in motion, we’re a devastating machine
But that’s not my fate, I’m a sentinel at the gate
Guarding the queen laying eggs at an alarming rate
When I’m on a hunt for food I always leave a scent
So I can find my way back home in rapid descent
I may be small, but I can lift twenty times my weight
Orts, meat, leaves or carcasses are typical freight
We are constantly on the hunt for sugary sweets
When acting in groups we perform incredible feats
That’s enough about me, I’ve got kin you need to see
They’re called fire ants once upon you it’s no mercy
They overwhelm you, stinging, causing great pain
Stumble across their mound; your distance maintain
I’ve got giant kinsmen that are in our tribal clan
Called carpenter ants habituating across the land
Their name may give that group a sense of glamour
I ask you, ever seen an ant carrying a hammer?
We are always busy, maintaining a colony means work
Soldiers, drones, workers, none allowed duty to shirk
But always being busy causes my legs to get sore
I’d like to be someone else, like the majestic condor
Soaring high over the Nazca plains in southern Peru
Seeing geoglyphs visible only from an aerial view
I’d glide, dive and do inside n outside double loops
High above Andean peaks with frightening swoops
But alas that’s a daydream of mine nary to be seen
As I forage seeking food for our egg laying machine
BÀTÀRE ÁÁDÚN KOKOOKÀ
Be slothful, you’ll end up with mean men.
Be diligent, you’ll rule over your kinsmen.
If all you invest your time is sleep,
Poverty is all you’ll reap.
But if you work very hard,
Men will cherish your fruitful yard.
Instead of chasing current effizy
You can be another positive celebrity
With your vigor, combat life storms
To you ovation and applauds will be norms
Everywhere you traverse on world’s arena,
Bàtàre áádún kokookà
The last line is a Yoruba (one of Nigerian tribes) idioms which means “If you study well,
your shoes will sound ko ko ka” (onomatopoeia for shoes heels hitting a stony ground).
This implies that hard work pays.
Who can curse the panga?
With it we defend our territory
Who can bless the panga?
By it we lost our kinsmen
Trounce
Bounce
Butcher
Who can love or hate the panga
Roll
Troll
Wail
Who doesnt one a panga?
war
woes
foes
The pangas we keep for our privilege
The monsters that tear our tatters
As we cut our adversary our brothers perish