Best Mulish Poems
The Dark Side of October
Late October moon is waking, through this cemetery shaking,
shaking as the cold wind breaking, walking ‘neath an old oak tree.
Stones like sentries undertaking, guarding graves as hearts are aching,
aching for the still ones staking, such an eerie sight to see –
dark and dreary, I’m so leery, such an eerie sight to see –
is this but a reverie?
In the graveyard shadows shimmer, dark of night is growing dimmer,
dimmer still without a glimmer, shadows ‘round the old oak tree.
Shadows dancing ever nearer, nearer still and getting clearer,
clearer like distorted mirror, twisting ghastly sight to see –
growing vastly, looming lastly, such a ghastly sight to see –
certainly a reverie?
Piercing sounds are penetrating, ear drums deafening pulsating,
ringing louder, devastating, echoes off the old oak tree.
Echoes bouncing screeching grating, ever louder agitating,
instigating, fears creating, from this ghoulish sight to see –
Am I mulish, maybe foolish, such a ghoulish sight to see –
surely just a reverie?
In the dark my head is spinning, round and round these sights imprinting,
fusing on my brain beginning, questioning my sanity.
All these sights and sounds are weighing, weighing as the ghouls are playing
playing as they do their preying, preying on my vanity –
I am praying, ghouls are swaying, preying on my vanity –
have I lost my sanity?
Eerie night just seems persisting, lasting as my mind is twisting,
waiting for daylight’s assisting, lighting up the old oak tree.
Eerie sights and sounds now fading, dark of night for daylight trading,
light of day is now invading, leaving me to clearly see –
seeing nearly, life so dearly, oh so clearly now I see –
must have been a reverie…..
or have I lost my sanity?
July 26, 2018
Categories:
mulish, dark, horror, october, scary,
Form:
Rhyme
What a load of malarkey I just read...
befuddled in disarray inside his head,
but let me make it clear. The message I see
is a misguided statement left for you and me.
It's another 'Hey diddle diddle' moment
for the chap who writes in riddle.
Who gave women the right to breed, he wrote...
taking the chance of birth defects. What the heck!
That kind of mulish thinking I cannot promote,
but since it's his right to post as he may,
I shall take the opportunity to also have a say.
God gave women the right to breed,
in the ability to grow within them a seed.
If He wanted an embryo to proclaim,
"I'll risk being born with half a brain.
and risk the life of my mother, too,"
He'd given them voice before they were born.
Audacious statements made by those who oppose
the will of the Ancient of Days.
That would label them as 'one of those...'
A shortsighted man who'd take such a stand,
thinking he knows best what is wrong or right.
How would he handle having a womb with eggs.
Maybe he would consider soldering shut his legs.
A blowhard whose mother suffered giving birth
for she made the choice to feel the burden of pain.
If she knew what she'd bred,
would she value his worth?
Categories:
mulish, baby, birth, women,
Form:
Rhyme
Before morning sun was dressed for the day,
the white noise came and shook the darkness,
like swells swinging ships on the French Passage,
cargo ships before the engine was pulled
from the womb of modernization
Before the day break open the citadel of night,
leaving weak traces of dark shadows in small crevices,
the darkness was crowned with gold and diamonds –
stars gazing on eastern isles
The sand storms came from Arabia
and we walked with our eyes closed
The Atlantic rocked ships like noisy babies,
the white surge broke like whips,
pushing salt in our wounds,
and we prayed to the God we’ve forgotten,
but he must allow our curse to come to pass,
it was written of us
Souls were thrown in the locker,
as we were dragged westward
On rigid eardrums I play this song
Categories:
mulish, history,
Form:
Narrative
Trouble, trouble stirs the wind
ghastly ghosts rise and ascend
warty toads croak
vile spells are spoke
witches’ covens evil intend
Burbling, gurgling cauldron hot
with purple vein, red blood clot
virgins hopeful eyes
fear and dread belies
throw them in and stir the pot
Screeching, screaming banshee songs
garish ghouls with pointy prongs
mulish mummies
reeking rummies
to evil spirits the night belongs
Trembling, tremoring witches fear
townsfolk are coming too near
sticks and stones
fire bemoans
the end becoming too clear
Freaking, shrieking their cry drums
slicing the air with its thrums
unwilling to face
they cut to the chase
quickly flee to save their bums
Categories:
mulish, celebration, funny, giggle, halloween,
Form:
Limerick
Africa, can rise.
But that is only if we are ready to fight.
And to end our plight,
Our weakness should come to light.
But Africans think is normal?
That our children under five should be dying of malaria.
But I ask, are we proud to be tagged with poverty?
And as a continent with no dignity?
Yes! We have to be in haste,
Because there is no more time to waste.
A people united in faith,
Is stronger than the bombs the enemy will make.
So to our divided Africa, let us mingle,
So that we can become single.
And together,
We can push Africa further.
But I it is only the mulish,
That always want to remain foolish.
So if only we want to be illustrious,
Then Africans should not keep quiet about our nefarious.
And let us not always be clamorous
But rather, be adventurous.
And to our leaders I advise,
You are able to afford iPad,
Meanwhile, our girls at puberty lacks sanitary pad.
So can’t you see your own followers bewailed?
After you promised them ecstasy.
But what happened after they hailed.
Only to realize they were living in fantasy.
We have made them enjoy mansions and cars that are very deluxe.
So I ask, why they won’t relax.
And act, only when they see the body and property of their people, rot and rust,
To form dust.
But Africa must rise.
Mother weeps because her children are so soft and plaint to be fooled
Because we have being used as weapons for coups.
So instead of standing for democracy,
We Africans opt for nothing but autocracy.
But is time we say no to fixity,
To help change our destiny.
And we should also be ready to fulminate the ways of the devil,
And depart from deeds that are evil.
But if we refuse and fold our hands and think of trepidation,
Then we should blame ourselves for the destruction of our nations.
Categories:
mulish, africa,
Form:
Rhyme
the man within me makes me who i am
he is the source of my being
And he controls my life and feelings
Spirit mixed with emotions and grieves
A Breath from the creator
On that faithful sixth day of creation
Natural being beyond description
He direct my steps,
As mother hen direct its chicks
spiritually being of old incarnation
physically invisible to the mortal eyes but,
spiritually visible to the immortals
its leaves as the body dies
just like a gas leaves from a container
To unknown destination only known to it
within, the voice speaks humbly
the ten commandment of mosaic law
Which order your ways purely and rightly
Humbly inserted to enforce holiness physically
when try to channel or control, it leaves you
leaves you to your bidden until you understand
it dying, fainted voice so friendly
conscience of mortal s are the man within
spiritual immortal, unchallengeable mountainous beast of value
friendly synonymous to the whirlwind
vanishable like the gas into the air
Beyond microscopic power when its leaves the body
it stimulate your pains and groans grievously when hurt
when in motion, it becomes mulish
to stop you from crimes
munificent ghost but very grievous
all right reserved john chizoba vincent 2013
Categories:
mulish, missing, nature,
Form:
Alliteration
Obliging black arms, their crooked
fingers cut freezing as they
reach for winter greys, blues of sky,
untouchable. Shaking, bending.
Mulish winds sweep lands- violence
loved, admired. They are framed
within my eyes green as last summer's
carpeting, where the trees were rooted.
Embroidered. Weaving native
life. Earth milled, the purest white
hush to lull. Charming. Dreamlike.
Persistent as memories.
Categories:
mulish, appreciation, beautiful, day, december,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Deep Wounds Do Bleed in Vain
Even the Greatest of the heroes, humble and handsome today, morrow
Must Inevitably make themselves immobile static carcasses,
Their Doom must shall stab their mates into Deep woes,
Their vail of Agony stays mulish in 'em as the dark patch of sorrow
Grievers gotta grieve in futility, deep in that dark shadowy billow
The Unwise do so, for it's futile to make the Reapers-foes
The sagacious truly know of the Essence of Life; Soul's
The All-permeating immortal of the body, for its presence, isn't shallow
The Unwise too are the ones to fall for their instincts,
With visions of being bein and the only ones to lead,
It's true that some indeed become weeds
For the real humans not always can stand in their stead,
With fallin', Hope falls too; But in this
Capricious game of Chess, The once failed twice succeed
Categories:
mulish, hope, sorrow, spiritual, success,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Prior to pulled pins of broken promise and bartered bullets of pretentious plight,
We the people are forced to feed from the teat of foolish plans, scribed by ghoulish hands, feeding mulish might to the tip of an arrogant bite.
Thus, in sorrow I see, the truth to be, mans vision of tomorrow will never be pleased.
Selecting sly savoring sounds ensnaring hypnotized minds in everlasting ease,
Contradicting all the reasons their un-trialed treasons force us to believe.
The unfortunate souls of most pay no mind, for sheep do not ask why
But what if cowardly sheep are brought to light through conscious life?
Would the truth we find force questions to enter these manipulated minds?
Questions like, Why would they lie?
Why would they hide?
Why do they not cry?
And, are they really on our side?
I guess the true question is, would we even realize?
As we are stuck inside elaborate labyrinth lies given characters to play until ones die,
No one seems to see the truth found in my lonely eyes.
Imagine if life was changed to nothing but a game,
What would you say to a man who asks for your life in exchange for his personal gain?
Would you say okay, or remind him you are more than flesh and brain?
If he said your body means nothing, for wealth is all he cares,
Would you love him or run away scared?
If he stared into your eyes with stone cold pupils locked on control,
Speaking of board games like monopoly and risk, setting risk to our physical forms’ mold,
Would you stand cold?
As breathing brethren are used as playing pieces to build power and fear,
I think hearing these words would make your opposition clear,
For answers to these questions may show illusions held unlawfully dear.
Maybe this is why “All is fair in love and war” is what they say?
Knowing if you knew, you would not pay.
Wherein truth cries it reigns wise to remind,
Honest lips perish per ignorance; bliss is in common mind.
Categories:
mulish, america, life, metaphor, war,
Form:
Free verse
In fallow field
Where corn once grew
I chanced upon
An old mule shoe
I pondered on
The many miles
The shoe had plod
In mulish style
In river bed
Now dry as bone
I came upon
A worn millstone
Wondered aloud
The wagons full
Of new milled corn
The mule had pulled
In old grey barn
Within a stall
I found these words
Carved on the wall
George Washington
Once slept here
Best damn mule
From far and near
:)
20Mar14
Categories:
mulish, humor, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Waiting;
Oh, how one waits.
We are always biding on some pardon.
I wait for you, bee, in the Spring of my lifetime
to absolve this affliction and pollunate the secret garden.
The locked garden we clammered for as babes.
I have forseen your sting for what seems an eternity,
and now, how one waits.
There once was a time when you waited for me.
I was Mulish and as time passed, so did your wait; on to the next amusement.
Are you so easily diverted, bee?
Pollunating the first violet which crosses your path.
That weed is no match for me.
I attempt to iradicate it but it grows like a sea.
Oh, bee,
come back to me.
Categories:
mulish, lost lovetime,
Form:
Free verse
Now its purty well knowed that cowpokes prefer to ride a horse,
An' movin' pitchers show 'em astride prancin' horses of course.
But Hank, a cow-puncher fer many years ain't like th' usual pack;
He prefers to mount a cantankerous mule that he calls Jack!
Ol' Jack sets th' rules in most matters, keepin' Hank on his toes.
Its joked 'mongst his pards that he's bein' led around by his nose!
Jack has a mean kick leavin' hoof marks imprinted on Hank's chest!
Hank's a stubborn one but in stubbornness, he comes in second best!
Jack'll sit on his haunches when Hank tries to tighten th' cinch.
Hank'll yell an' cuss tryin' to saddle him but Jack won't give a inch!
In his own sweet time Jack'll rise on all fours allowin' Hank astraddle.
What a sight they is gallopn' along, Hank tryin' to remain in th' saddle!
When Hank tries to lasso dogies, th' rope gits tangled in Jack's feet.
(Th' trail boss gits irate with Hank usin' language I dare not repeat!)
Both Hank and Jack is useless in th' corral on annual brandin' day;
Says th' boss, "Both you an' yer mule git lost an' stay outta th' way!"
I reckon cowboys who use mules fer ridin' th' trail is mighty few,
But them that does says tho' they is 'mulish', they is steadfast an' true.
When he gits ornery, Hank'll whisper sweet nothin's in Jack's ears,
Like bein' put out to stud for the enjoyment of his retirement years!
Categories:
mulish, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
The expectant morning's
snow frosted tree peeks through slats.
The half-blink of the cat.
The right eye is murky,
reflects a brown yellow sheen.
My brown-eyed girl song.
The mid-winter clouds
view the lands, plan to drop bombs.
Mulish clothesline sheets shake.
The cat drags a leather
mouse. The hunter's maw widens.
Bone-hued birch trees pose.
A partly frozen
dove blue river asks, " Where are they.."?
Suns, sterling moons grin.
The dusk's lemon sky
surrounds the house- lamps, streetlights.
Tea, coffee stains on teeth.
Categories:
mulish, allusion, america, appreciation, city,
Form:
Haiku
Away from the areas of complete ad nauseam
As political cases grasp a zenith of their corium
To utterly saturate the airwaves with information
Each other's obnoxious and feeble description.
I'm fully aware, listening to the unrelenting billow
My musings have been integrated into a rainbow
I lay, awake sketching vilifications of people's dignity
I dream of a gloomy sky shadowing the faltered fury.
As yet, they now sway the bulk of a mulish minority
Putting fervor on the beliefs is harming harmony
Watching the slivers of the sky inhale, I kept awake
It mocks and taunts the deconstruction for its sake.
Tumbling off, staggering forward, void and murkiness
It was benign alighting and utterly scatting aimless
The previous prone events will disturb our spirit
The harshness of the truth is infused to arrant inhibit.
While a million nights of misery had engulfed people
I'm startled by the screams of forefathers over beguile
I'm on high alert; grant heed to the rumble of my valiance
Where did all this anger come from that incited violence?
A significant alteration has been performed.
Concussion healing occurred as a result of a storm
Whatever happens, our promises will be crammed
One irksome outlay may entice us all to the lowland.
Written: January 27, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 28 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
mulish, analogy, bereavement, caregiving, change,
Form:
Rhyme
Tomorrow
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
A beautiful night..
Raptures delight
Light's shimmers bright
Fresh and moist is the air
A moon a blushing
the stars they quietly take their seats
the waves orderly cleans the sea
everything sync together
to make another day
which GOD has made.
See it again tomorrow night
wherever you stay or stray.
Betwixt here and there
And in between there are
Miserable mulish miscreants hub
Those who want to close our drawer
Of our universe.
They are perverse
And temper bad
They headstrong, they err.
Too few pleasant mickey mice
And no more happy donald ducks
Once a time this planet was nice
When I was younger
Now war hungry men
With angry mind's
Are gunning down bullets
Blood everwhere..
Peace is out of touch.
Belly's with empty tummy's
In broken down dwellings and alley's.
They dread the beautiful night.
Their light's are out.
Gunsmoke in their air.
Another new day
They will not see again.
Give peace and love a chance
Today..
Live sensible and be around for
Tomorrow..
Categories:
mulish, africa, america, anger, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse