Best Migrated Poems
Of parrots and parakeets, no one knows
now numbering in the thousands
no longer Mexico's bucolic birds
new urbanized citizens migrated
to the suburbs.
If you travel to Los Angeles and county
where hobo avians flock to Pepperdine
hoping to matriculate to paradise..
Pasadenans know the raucous calls from palms
festooned in bright feathers and pheromones.
Should you wish to elicit a response
from a Red-crowned Amazon..
just ask any witch cat which hungers
with an acute accessory olfactory
rife in feline grin and purpose
eye'n the skies cheerfully.
And somewhere Marianne Faithfull warbles
'this little bird who lives on the wind,
this little bird that somebody sends.'
they're listening too, with a coo and squawk
o'er the skies of Silverlake
and Eagle Rock.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This Little Bird sung by Marianne Faithfull - Lyrics by J.D. Loudermilk 1965
Categories:
migrated, bird, journey, paradise,
Form:
Verse
The daylight doesn't seem as bright as before,
as if the sun is fast fading away.
And gathering grey clouds fuel rains that pour:
sending kids scurrying inside to play.
Autumn's pretentious colors fade from sight,
until no trace remains; their beauty brief.
And short days relinquish their length to Night,
the trees stripped naked, not a single leaf.
The honking geese have all migrated south,
along with most of our precious songbirds.
And, daunting rumors, spread by word of mouth:
whisper Winter's here in so many words.
Winter's wailing winds will start whistling soon,
and we all must learn to dance to Her tune.
Categories:
migrated, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Sonnet
For long I have been an aimless vagabond
I strayed far, the world being enormously wide.
Traveling to lands foreign, I searched my fortune.
At the end, fed up with all that was alien,
And wishing to withdraw from the world’s bewildering stress,
Decided to set out in search of my roots and my people.
Parents dead, my faint connections with my folks were gone.
My ancestral home was occupied by my brother,
With whom I had hardly any correspondence.
But when I was choked by thoughts of my dear home
And the yearning to visit struck me as an irresistible urge,
Without second thoughts, I boarded a plane,
And headed to my native village with dreams many.
From far I saw my house perched high on a hill,
Dappled in grey, squinting across the field.
Nearing it, my heart began to beat in pounding thuds,
In the excitement of a reunion long overdue.
Alas! There was none to receive me, only some creepy spiders,
Busily spinning gossamer webs over closed windows
Its vacancy haunting me, I tried to ring the doorbell.
But the rusted contraption sat silent on the cracked wall.
What had happened to the family living here?
Have they migrated to some far-off place?
A hundred questions propped up in my mind.
Wished to ask someone, but seeing nobody around,
I stood silent in the weed grown courtyard for some more time.
I thought of the heydays of my life, with a deep yearning,
To run round the house once more as a child
And be under its shelter, to lie down and dream the dreams of old.
Everything looked so forlorn. Feeling suddenly orphaned,
My eyes got welled up with tears as never before.
Hesitant to chew the unpalatable truth that this house will no more board me,
Casting one last glance with a heart laden with memories,
I turned my back from that spectral home,
Which stood silent as a symbol of UNWRITTEN ABSENCE!
Categories:
migrated, absence, home, hope,
Form:
Free verse
A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)
"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late
The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)
The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)
Categories:
migrated, funny, nature,
Form:
Limerick
We are all essentially African. That's where humanity first took birth.
Some then left Africa to populate every land mass on planet earth.
Those of us who remained in equatorial Africa kept our very dark protective skin.
It served as a natural sun block,
preventing harmful ultra violet rays from contaminating our bodies from within.
As we migrated closer to the poles we began to slowly depigmentize.
It was an evolutionary trade off, one might call evolutionarily wise.
The rays of the sun when closer to the poles
are not as harsh as in sub tropical Africa and the pole's climate is cold.
Where as in Africa we walked naked with our protective dark skin,
The poles were colder. We wore clothing over our slowly depigmentizing skin.
Depigmentizing all the quicker because of very little exposure to the sun at all.
Because we differ in skin color doesn't mean anything good or bad at all.
We were and still are all the same human specie, unlike our cousins, the extinct Neanderthal.
We are all *****sapiens. We are all the one and only Human Race.
In a nutshell, that says it all.
To All Hate Groups Out There and hate individuals too.
Be forewarned. Be aware. Your over due extinction is about to come true.
I speak for all with knowledge who have truly evolved too,
"We All Welcome The Extinction Of All The Ignorance Created By All Of You."
You should all welcome it too, so that all of you can truly, for the common good,
intellectually evolve too.
Categories:
migrated, educationdark, africa, dark, hate,
Form:
Rhyme
Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Contest Name 'New Beginnings
20 thousand and more years, then,
We came away from Mars,
Gravity ships with field deflection,
Electromagnetic with the stars.
Come we then amongst the humans,
Tiny short and feeble be,
We were 8 feet tall, us true men,
They might make just 5 foot 3.
Sent to bring them from the darkness,
Bring the light to all who’d see,
To use the mental might a blessing,
See it happen, to make it be.
Rad Arrigo met a maiden,
fine of feature yes was she,
Amber Aqua little maiden,
soon had children, one two three.
Challenged by a Chieftain was the Arrigo,
Changed his mind and let em be,
Mentally taught him love not hate now,
Arrigo willed it, saw it, see…
Perfect were these little women,
Innocent and so coy you see,
Improve the race, life so grim then,
Giants in the land it was to be….
So the crops were started irrigated,
With food came huts and prosperity,
Temples built big blocks migrated,
Mentally cut, sized and shaped by we.
Mind the creator does it all,
Fixed broken bones, so visually,
See it happen walk ye tall,
Mind can fix it, you will see.
Healers learn to use the picture,
See her face just mentally,
See her aorta a bulging,
See it shrink and shrink, heal thee …
Be thou patient with thy learning,
It takes time to get for ye,
Be consistent with your yearning,
Keep the faith and it will be.
Don Johnson
Anti gravity was provided by two electromagnetic fields on board which negated
Gravity of the Earth to free it from the planet using the stepping stones of space and the
attracting gravity magnified of the planets…
Categories:
migrated, fantasy
Form:
Ballad
In October, I feel a nip in the air,
that frosts my breath like contrails of smoke;
as gilded leaves start falling from the trees.
Overhead, a gaggle of honking geese
are fleeing Winter's approach;
joining the songbirds that have migrated south.
The leaves are painted in thick, bold strokes
of yellow, scarlet, fuchsia, gold and orange;
inked by Jack Frost,
and sprinkled on the ground like confetti.
Amber and vermilion drip from the trees;
pooling into a crunchy sea
of colorful leaves that the wind weaves,
into shifting swirls of abstract art.
One of Nature's boldest paintings,
Autumn steals one's breath away, instilling awe;
infusing Summer's death with Winter's birth,
it is a magical transformation to behold.
Categories:
migrated, august, change, color, hyperbole,
Form:
Free verse
Witty darkness spread her arms
talking in colored tongues
she opened her blanket wide
and covered everyone
warm, cool, calm, soothing
what a great feeling!
Her breath was life
even where light migrated
promises were prophetic
even if she was no prophet
deeds full of kindness
even if she was not an angel
But wind blew without mercy
blanket tore apart
darkness opened her eyes
no one knew till then
that her eyes were full of sores
and the mouth belched fire
the comfort that was
the soothing tongue that was
the promises that were
vanished and the land
became Golgotha!
Categories:
migrated, africa, power, satire,
Form:
Free verse
If I should breathe the last breath would you come and choke me to death? If I should climb to the top of the tree would you come and rescue me? My bones and muscles are speaking to me and courage is resting on my knees and I can feel the other side crying out for me.
Whispers of hope are flying around and benevolence is nowhere to be found but with determination I am onward bound; a sudden enlightenment breaks out in the middle of the sky so I know that it is not yet time for me to die. I have cleaned up the entire street and dismantle the garbage heap and all the birds have migrated and a new administration is coming to town and the Grizzly bears are dancing around.
Somewhere in the village below, I can hear them calling out for help; while the bells are tolling and anxiety is growing and the smell of incense perfumed the atmosphere, something peculiar is drawing near and the feeling of death floods the street rumbling my heart .People start running around looking for a staff and a crown.
And in a little house not far square the little lying in her crib waiting on death, and wonders aimlessly what life would be like if she was given another chance to live and she hums a little hymn and ask God to forgive her of her sins and all of a sudden something touches the sky and the universe replies.
If I give you a piece of my heart would we live like heart to heart? If I give you a piece of my heart, would you be loyal from the start? I know that a piece of you is inside me, I breathe when you breathe and I sing when you sing and that is how I know that you are living.
I have given a piece of my heart to the little girl that plays the harp, I want her to live and sing and fill the globe with modern hymn; the petri dish is in the operating room and she lies still on the bed while the heavens watches over her head.
And the surgeon moves his hand up and down while destiny moves quietly around. When she opens her eye I could see a thankful smile and I could feel a piece of her beating inside me and the room suddenly burst in flame with surgeon, doctors and nurses giving praise and calling out her name.
Take a piece of my heart and live.
Categories:
migrated, age, america, appreciation, body,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Jefferson Randolph 'Soapy' Smith was the wiliest scoundrel in the west!
He was invited to leave numerous towns since he wasn't a welcome guest!
He swindled gullible dudes throughout the west endin' up in Colorado,
Where he earned the sobriquet 'Soapy' and where he found his El Dorado!
He'd set up a soap display on a Denver street and invite folks to gather 'round.
His spiel began: "Buy a bar for a dollar and inside money may be found!"
The rush was on and suckers fought to buy bars of soap, gamblin' on a win!
Cops were even called to the scene to maintain order and to quell the din!
Folks tore at wrappers and one feller hollered, "I got a hundred dollar bill!"
Little did the unsuspectin' boobs know that it was 'Soapy's' planted shill!
Dupes lost their dough and with a five-cent bar of soap they were stuck,
He pulled the scam time and again and that's how "Soapy's' name was struck!
'Soapy' pulled up stakes in Denver and migrated to other towns out west.
He was successful with the soap scam and was adept at hidin' aces in his vest!
He made his way to Creede where he established the Orleans Gamblers Saloon.
There, 'Soapy' was involved in nefarious affairs and left town none too soon!
The gold rush was on in the Yukon and he pined to go there ere it was too late.
He arrived in Skagway and later on in Juneau where he was to meet his fate.
'Soapy' met his end in a gunfight and his final words were, "My God, don't shoot!"
Thus ends the ballad of 'Soapy' Smith, that swindlin', cheatin', rotten galoot!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
migrated, cowboy-western, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Godwin Adizue Ibeh
(1937-2017)
Mr. Godwin Adizue Ibeh
Aged 79 years
Was and is
My beloved, doting father
“Is” because he remains
Spiritually present
Present
In my memory
Present
In pictures and mementos
Present
In my dreams, smiles and tears
Present
In my prayers and imagination
His spirit
Hovers in the air
Above me like a hummingbird
His presence felt
At the mere mention
Of his name
Mr. Godwin Ibeh
Or simply “Daddy”
As I used to, and still
Lovingly call him
Or "Prof" by close friends
And acquaintances alike
Was a Nigerian-born
Naturalized American citizen
Migrated to the United States of America
In 1968
A bearer of many titles
Hobbies and accomplishments
An alumnus of Central State University
Wilberforce, Ohio. Graduated in 1970
With a BA in Psychology
An alumnus of Xavier University Graduate School
Cincinnati, Ohio. Graduated in 1975
With an MS in Correctional Psychology
An alumnus of University of Nigeria
Where he also taught Psychology in 1981
Received a PhD in Education
Specializing in Guidance and Counseling
He also moonlighted as a probation officer
A writer and a taxi driver
A father of four
First-generation African-American children
From oldest to youngest
Mildred
Yours truly, Edward
Stephen
Jeanette
A grandfather of three
A father-in-law of two
A former-husband
Of my beloved mother, Rose
An avid collector of hats
A voracious reader
And collector of books
A lover
Of jazz and classical music
An intellectual
A sage
A mensch
His personality
Avuncular, warm, and humorous
His smile
Radiant, brightly beautiful, beautifully bright
His laugh
Honest and infectious
His mouth
Spoke no evil
His destination
Heaven!
For he’s a child of God
And has led
A good, successful, fulfilled life
Gone, but never
Will be forgotten
Rest in peace, Dad
I will miss you...
Categories:
migrated, death, eulogy, father, how
Form:
Elegy
Different worlds and different races
Sometime many years ago, a catastrophe began
wiping out most civilized, the ones that we call man
Cities were abandoned, inhabitants left the earth
trying hard to save their clans and start a new rebirth
Thousands not so fortunate, the earth had sealed their fate
no where to go, no where to hide, for them it was to late
The cities they abandoned, were marvels of their time
would be unearthed ten thousand past, when earth is in its prime
Scientists, archaeologists, and amateurs combined
all try their best to understand, from what was left behind
Carbon dating, "guesstimates" they still do not agree
that different life from other worlds began externally
They'd been here twenty thousand years as visitors now gone
an oasis, island, resting place for journeys very long
Something happened this we know, they left before we came
the lifetimes did not overlap, we never knew their name
We all grow up enchanted by the stories people tell
does that mean that tunnel vision is alive and well?
Some speculate our ancestors, migrated near and far
and maybe they just could have lived, beyond a distant star?.....
Categories:
migrated, earth, imagination, planet, science
Form:
Rhyme
I just came to see,
What was left, but there was nothing for me…to enjoy,
But the only cry of the old, nostalgic memories,
And bless once upon a time my dear companions,
Dead? Migrated? Rebelled? Flipped or changed town,
Hence after a while, I decided to return back, to see and remember,
I came with the spirit of the drums,
Full of energy and hotness of the beloved continent,
I came with an open heart and arms,
To hug and kiss the remained debris and sweet memories,
I came to clean the dusty, humble sitting spots,
Where I used to rest and cross my legs and narrate
Some weird, fairy tales to the small little men,
Lads token of my beloved old estate...
I came back to see and wished never came to see what I saw,
Just to live the old beautiful stories and memories.
Categories:
migrated, childhood, destiny, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
Ruminating over a golden era gone by and over possessiveness filled me with nostalgia
Ultimate luxury of vying for a car as well as owning a chauffeur driven one was
Sadly for the migrated rulers who ruled over another dynasty across oceans
The massive Ford drove into grandpa's driveway in the early forties
Exactly thirty years later it stood dark, forlorn, inviting rust under the banyan tree
Devoid of its master whose ashes were bestrewn within the old British Raj bungalow
Benign weather peeled off layers of its glossy makeup despite its bare upkeep; our
Undulating frustration as it drank too many gallons; moleskin upholstery on bucketed
Seats laid bare its withered ribs, spouting foul smell in rain and sun; the rolling
Tyres busted for the wheels didn't spin down the familiar roads along the hill; our
Eyes got sore at its lost lustre while we heaved deep sighs at its opulent maintenance
Divine providence intervened to refurbish the vintage for glorious view in the Museum
Contest Judged on June 26, 2016
July 1, 2016
For Broken Wings
Contest: I Got Zero, Nothing, Nada - 1
*Migrated rulers refer to the British rule in India
Categories:
migrated, absence, car, care, death,
Form:
Acrostic
Known for my large tusk coming from my canine tooth that is protruding,
Sexually attracted to the six years old female though I m thirteen,
Was swimming for predation, saw her chasing my favorite prey from benthic,
She was snatching my flatfish from dense pack of ice in the waters of Arctic,
Whistled in the hot weather, together from bays into the ocean we migrated,
With her I would live for another 40 years till I die, looked at her and vowed,
Summer gone and winter shattered my dreams when sea ice over her froze,
Bearing beautiful calves, came another Narwhal, stared at me, love again rose,
Mated with her in the season spring, sprung a newborn after fourteen months,
Dependent on milk, stays by his mother’s back, my cutie swims by her assistance.
Categories:
migrated, family,
Form:
Rhyme