Best Mummers Poems
When the mind's disease is hate
it flows through the veins unchecked
I'm just a voice of reason in the midst of darkness
striking a match
a light for minds seeking refuge from a storm
and lift a crying child above hate's swollen river
that may sweep us away
People are angry, their Earth shakes
lighting flashes, children cry, crowds move as rivers
their mummers becoming louder
confusion fills their mind, fear fills their lungs
they are tossed between rage and reason
Demons rise to shackle their fragile souls
to a long history of claiming purity
frightened hearts beat louder
echoing through the valley of self-righteousness
as they march in step with unfurled flags
demanding all follow their worn graveled path
of self-illusion
the scythe they wield sweeps through the marrow
of anyone who questions
why they confiscate freedom in freedoms name
Who dare stands to lift the crying child
from the grasp of the angry crowd
giving hope, where there is madness
as the young stalk of democracy burns brown
withering away from a drought of common sense
urged on by those seeking power
using lies to move the mob, like pawns
because they see the world changing around them
and wear the heavy coat of brutality from their own history
fearful of their own sins of reservations and hangings
this is the same demon led crowd that yelled '' Give us Barabbas ''
8/21/21
A winding road, up through the trees, finds California gold
The heart will race, and breath escapes, to see this land unfold!
Dad cherished, this, his boyhood home, a wonderland to view
and shared with us the years he grew, into a the man we knew
A home he loved so long ago, but never quite outgrew
Our family albums back at home, held pictures of lost years
When Gramps had been a mountain guide, my heritage is here
When summer came and school was done,..our family couldn't wait
To camp, explore, and marvel ore', this jewel at Heaven's gate
No picture, song, or poetry, prepares astonished eyes
The valley called Yosemite, invites a heart's delight
Hidden in the canyons of Sierra's mountain glade
Immortal is a valley, which was carved by glacier's blade
Winter melts to spring, again to quench the giant trees
Dogwoods lace the forest floor, azaleas scent the breeze
Redwoods dig their roots between the stones that reach the sky
Earth and sky meet hand in hand, where eagles nest and fly
The Bridal falls, the granite faces, we stuttered to describe
The meadows green, the mirrored lakes, Ahwahnee lodge resides..
The Mercy River cools the brow, in awe of what surrounds
Embrace the peace as evening falls, that mummers nature's sounds
El Capitan, and Half Dome seem to reach the stars so high
Reflect upon old stories told of fire in the sky
A fire built upon the cliffs, then sounds of ancient cries
A call from down below would rise,... would echo from above
And rocks would pour a flaming veil, and spill a song of love
The call of love, from tribes that roamed, a hundred years ago
Days long ago, my childhood eyes, were dazzled under stars
We'd sit around the campfire light, he'd sing and play guitar
We looked upon the granite face of Half Dome, overhead
And watch the burning embers fall, and hear a song so sad
A native call still fills the dark, within the heart of me
A place where soft light still cascades, and Daddy sang to me
................................................................................................................................
A look at Yosemite:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5RQp77uVPA
sunset spins sad sky
in raging red and crimson
the
fireball waves goodbye
birds fly to their nest
a tiresome day ends at dusk
and
night fills with moonlight
smiling stars appear
nude night dresses in calmness
while
wind mummers to moon
new day born at dawn
sunshine brightens lonely sky
and
new hopes come to life.
April 3, 2016.
MYSTICS SPLIT HAIKUS - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
Split-haiku's
in syllables of 5, 7, 1, 5
Byword
(I)
Tittle tattle tales rattle.
Cabalistic cabals in cans:
Malicious mélange of melees.
Mummers murmur, mumchance mumble.
Mummichog: the perfidious Fundulus heteroclitus-
For this parlance is pestilence:
For your words, for their words,
For your walls, for their walls.
But for their worlds, for your worth.
(II)
Malicious mischief shrouds in mesmerism,
Whilst her malignity molds she forgot unfold.
But the morbid medalled she, instead to merge,
Maintains calumnies, which not calmative in anyway.
Mummichog: the perfidious Fundulus heteroclitus-
For this parlance is pestilence:
For your words, for their words,
For your walls, for their walls.
But for their worlds, for your worth.
(III)
A candid parley and caring suits…
Indeed better parallel match -no losers, all winners-
For cases in conformity and un-confound.
That’s peace, that’s reign, to just justice of the peace.
Mummichog: the perfidious Fundulus heteroclitus-
For this parlance is pestilence:
For your words, for their words,
For your walls, for their walls.
But for their worlds, for your worth.
14/3/1434 ___15/1/2014
©Abdulhafeez Oyewole.
“It’s time,” she said in a deep throaty voice,
She picked him up and carried the preacher who had little choice,
He hung over her shoulder as she walked with ease,
Her blistering flesh when she touched him could be smelt on the breeze.
Now and then, she would let out a whimper from the pain,
However, a pain she was all too familiar with, she carried him to her ultimate gain.
She reached the old wooden building and opens the boor at the back,
The building housed the crowd as they parted once again for the man in black.
The people, stared shocked to see that he was alive,
Their mummers were as if it were bees in a beehive.
Then a man shouted, “His supposed to be dead, ho can this be?”
She lashed out slicing his neck, and he dropped like a freshly felled tree.
The crowd stirred into a panic and tried to smash down the door,
But, there was a powerful presence locked them in for the long awaited gore.
When their efforts of escape were fruitless, they turned to face the girl
Who’s flesh bubbled, and the stench caused many to hurl.
She dropped the preached on the elevated stage,
And clawed at her burning dead flesh like an animal enraged.
She shouted angrily in a deep throaty voice, “Who is in charge?”
A man walked toward the front, seven foot tall, muscular and large.
She flew through the air and gave him a talon embrace,
As she stuck a finger nails in his neck and gnawed off his face.
The crowd screamed some came to his aid,
But eight died too in her deadly crusade.
She walked slowly back to the front stage,
“Who is in charge?” she screeched ever more so enraged.
She fell on her back and wriggled, screaming in pain,
Her body split in four forming creatures hideously insane.
The merciless creatures hungry and wild ,
Pared not a soul skinning man woman or child.
They left them skinless but alive, to slowly die a gruesome death,
Then squelched through the blood cover floor toward the preacher who was next.
A gentle breeze on a scorching day,
We wake up early to bring in the May.
Bluebell skies frame cherry blossom showers,
Excited young girls hold garlands of flowers.
Morris men and mummers,
St George and the Dragon,
The roasting of meat,
And ale by the flagon.
And then,
Bouncy castles, welly wanging
Gem jars and races.
Ancient names with modern faces.
At May time
old and new worlds collide
She rests on the stones
With a large glass of wine.
The flags remain
But the people are gone.
Sunburnt daytrippers
Return to their homes.
The sheltering tree
That stands on the street
Guards the old and the new
Until next time they meet.
8th May 2018
casual, we walk
through each happening day,
moments lived out, yet
indifferently thrown out and away,
remember the mummers
who played in the park?
or desperate longing
in sweet summer's dark?
(who were we then
to our crumbling now?)
a face, framed in a photochrome sun,
a hand holds it now shaking
from a race never won,
each sunrise is faced
in memory's room,
as shadows grow pregnant
with sentimental gloom,
alive to time
so must we lightning live,
as we hurry while hoping
our after image forgives,
(who are we now
as from our younger then?)
decades passed
to this musing night,
one hitch, one step
in bygone flight,
would this present day's cadence
play a differing tune,
if we had held oh so tight
to those west coast Junes?
but, memory costs
and begs for its toll,
burning edges touched roughly
to unquickened souls,
(as we are now lives
in who we were then),
for we, alone, are the ones
strayed into eternity's fire,
burnt offered we harden
on history's pyre.
A shout and cry
Hurried steps
Chasing each other
Mongrel howling
Eyes peeping behind blinds
Security lights lighting up
Sighs of relief
Mutted mummers
Danger is over for now
D street daydreams,
watered down time,
diluted with a soured lime,
streaming like faces,
caught in tour bus windows,
shading eyes from mid day light,
a winking glint on distant water,
faint gulls cry winging over,
far off sand dunes like snowy plover,
wind blown hinting,
salt and sea,
as laughter floats formless,
flotsam on warm custard breezes,
sunlit sound of summers,
backlit like animated mummers,
captured in an iced tea lemon,
told on a melting sno-cone,
thrashed with an elephant's ear,
boardwalk dusk fallow,
shadows flow down to barnacled piling,
tidal flow pounding rhythmically beguiling,
captured moths in a porchlight,
buzzing backbeat arc lamps,
forms flit on a sultry street,
walking stilted looking back,
the grinding rasp of memory's regret,
those fog bound wraiths that never forget,
a young time touched by a different sun,
warm sand hourglass that couldn't run out,
west coast jubilee could never end...
it ends...
at the corner of D street and Mayne.
I danced with the hoodlum priestess, in the temple of the sacred pool.
The candles burned down low and jasmine incense from censors, filled the night.
While attendents at the altars, worried prayer beads and chanted sacred rhymes.
The daughters of the moon veiled their faces, and led me to the sea; the sea.
That night in the mighty City, after a day at the bizarre, I conveyed myself-
To the "Gates Of Cerdes" inn. Minstrels sang sagas by the fire; I lounged outside.
Dancing bears and mummers made merry in the courtyard 'neath starlight;
Against the city wall I sat and, sharpened my dagger upon a stone.
Patricians and visors rode King's high way, whores with tinkling bells walked alley-ways.
Any ragged beggar, with two teeth or more, fed on penny bowls of roasted rat.
There were vampires lurked among the trees and werewolves nestled in the eaves.
Spirits walked the earth in the dark and scattered flowers and, sang in the night.
The wine dark waters did roil and rumble, storm clouds boiled up in the sky.
Within the vault of night lovers did pluck and strum and stoke on lute strings;
Serenades and sonnets saluted vestigal virgins, abed in perfumed budiors.
And, this ancient City of enigma and riddle lay coiled, like a serpent wearing new skin.
Come away with me my love;
Steal away, journey with me.
We will cross the mystic mountains,
To fertile, verdant vales below.
All who knew will question "whence?"
The sinister City will never know
Oh sweet fig of the night
The master has cursed your day light
You stand on the desert sand
Searching the whole night for me
While courage climb up your slender tree
I have met you somewhere in thin air
As your voice floats through the atmosphere
I can hear the mummers and whispers in the breeze
And the night shadows yearning after me
but the universe has carved out the center of the heavens
with a pick axe . a power saw and a garden fork
and the birds watch from afar in amazement
But the fig tree would not bend
it stood there planted firmly in the earth
Absorbing the energy of the whole wide world
And I watch the night vigil marched solemnly
Through the desert town and the chip monk gather
around singing an elated song in
solitude for a twisted fig crown
What does fig taste like?
Strawberry and date to wet my appetite
The taste is burnt out in the sun
And honey mixed with flowers and nuts
is appealing but only the taste is revealing
If fertility was the gift of life I would not
have made so much sacrifice
ploughing the dry thirsty ground
upon which gravity is found and
the night keeps running after me
as I searched desperately for my fig tree
Abundance and sweetness waits patiently for me
I can feel the energy floating over the Galilee sea
And the olive sprouting all around greet the fig trees
at the edge of the sea with love and dignity
Something good is going to happen to me
And heaven and earth will flourish again
When the lions are driven out of the den
The region will be fertile and everyone
will have a new found friend
and taste love, peace and joy again
despair will be blown into the sea
And courage will penetrate the fig tree
Fig will spring up everywhere
And you will have much to eat and much to share
The contention will be over, and everyone will cross over
The fig will provide nourishment for soul and it will
Teach you how to be bold
You stand there looking at me
What do I have to do with thee?
I am going to Egypt and turkey
To look for my fig tree.
Love should be cherished and held tightly
Love is not something to be taken lightly
When you fall in love your heart flutters
And your brain mummers
I think love is that lovely feeling
And no matter what love gives that healing
Love endures and trusts
And always show you the musts
Never give up on the one you love
Because if you trust and cherish love will help you rise above!!!
Unconsciously, she lay there,
Stiffly beneath the covers,
Mummers, desperate murmurs escape from her sleep.
She speaks clearly,
As if it were not a dream,
She vents angrily,
As if it were not a dream,
She repents honestly,
As if it were not a dream
Her words pour out,
Harsh and truthful.
Suddenly, she awakens,
Her murmurs, desperate murmurs have escaped into reality.
When morning breaks,
She speaks words of prosperity,
She repeats them constantly,
The one and only true way to capture her nightly murmurs.
Hate mummers through your soul
Your morning opens with darkness
Where the sunlight cannot see
and cure you of this insanity
In your room is nothing
except many lifeless poems
that eases the embryo within
You desire wealth and fame
Except storm showers had
entered your detestable life
you had the eye of
a poet with a magician's mind
Now the whole world proceeds
you are left alone in grief
picking the last pieces of change
hoping for a spark of hope
That will rain from the heavens
inflitrating the gallows of your heart
Birthing you sense you've never seen
with a life you never dreamed of
Man is a pest in this world of creatures
he raises and feeds fowls, cattle, goats and all
he befriends them calling them darling
without suspicion they cooperate, play with him
beasts of burden work hard to please him
but without warning he picks one by one and eats
Animals cry gnash their teeth and ask for mercy
they mourn for the loss dear ones;
protesters are buttered mercilessly
but man the pest grows fat with every pain
he inflicts on the helpless creatures
Man the pest cultivates cereals, orchards and vegetables
proper care he gives to all to grow healthy.
Yet without compromise he picks, cuts and eats
he breaks bones and cuts flesh of those he so loves
And boils them in hot ovens for daily side dish
fat ones as tomatoes, cabbages are sliced with sharp knives
They bleed and mourn with pain everyday
But man the pest cares not about the suffering
He does not allow humanitarian bodies to save them
Man the pest mummers every time he has had his full meal
“I was created to eat and enjoy you. It is my divine right.
Your divine duty is to suffer so that I can be happy’
If you do not suffer I cannot live happily here on earth.”