Best Palm Oil Poems
To Carol’s pumpkin patch I did go
With my little red wagon behind in tow
A fifty pound one I would use for show
Through teeth and eyes an eerie light would glow
To my surprise as I did a double take
First impressions were thoughts that they were fake
“White pumpkins!” I felt to see if I were awake
“White pumpkins!” Oh give me a break
Acidity in her soil Carol said of her spoil
Of such the flush of pumpkins were soiled
Funny feeling I had of maybe getting oiled
Pumpkins bleached white as though they had been boiled
Spoiled, soiled and oiled and maybe even broiled
By a promise, of free pumpkin, I am so embroiled
A sucker for free stuff, so rub me also with palm oil
It is Halloween, so I must assume this spoil
A golden pumpkin delight is white of spite
In acidity soil, echoes my usual plight,
something doesn’t seem well for day is not night
Though with my pumpkin white, I split the site
In honor of Carol Brown
And Contest
Can you describe a baby’s smile? Let me try:
A breath of fresh air while the sewage tanks are drained;
That momentary silence when gunshots fill the air;
Cool palm oil on your tongue after your first crab curry;
when you shut your eyes to stop incoming traffic glare;
when a persistent cramp finally disappears;
Taking off your blistering work shoes when the day is done.
The pureness of the lines, and the innocence written in an infant’s smile cast all my stress away.
Unrestrained, untainted. The pure expression of appreciation that says: “Yes, you count”, “Thank you!”, “I love you” without uttering a word.
Those 5 seconds where everything means so much more, where nothing else matters than how happy this human being is of the mutual expression of love, as you smile back.
(c)Nyonglema
In the comments, tell us what your baby’s smile is like to you….
The sun's savage fingers have penetrated
the calving sheets of ice, delving deeply
beneath the blankets of the frozen surface.
And the oceans, bruised mauve and swollen
like a pregnant whore, rail against the rocks
of man's kingdoms with their bowels ripped
open by bleached coral and rising temperatures;
from which clouds rise up, bitter like a smog
eclipsed sun, only to fall back to earth with
corruption pinned to the coat tails of every raindrop.
And, across the fields, a coal-filled crystalline air
drives a guilty world's dreams towards unprotected
lungs and evaporating lands. Where oil worshipped
totums portray the sordid lucre of promised bounty,
producing lopsided views of a dying humanity
And the keeper of the rain forest's keys deals with a
polluted man, chain saw in one hand and palm oil in
the other. Leaving the abandoned trees to rage
unheard against the indignity of their rape.
Leaving embattled tribes, gentle guardians of the land, to
stand defenceless against the idolatry of the dollar; whose
spiteful colours of destruction are spreading their kaleidoscopic
tendrils across a world full of dust bowls and refugee famine
Proud are we who stand tall against a world that gave us
a garden to play in and a sea to banquet on. And proud are
we who make the toys that blast holes out of creation and
bind the full power of the sun's wrath against such a tiny emblem
"Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much. Wisdom
is humble that he knows not more" (William Cowper 1785)
Run free tiger run free
Whilst you have the space
Their coming to chew it up
No room for you to chase
The ecosystem will be unbalanced
No deer to run to feed the cubs
No deer means the grazing will suffer
No fauna, grass and new shrubs
Help stop the trafficking in tigers
For chinese medicine what a sin
For idiots who have a Tiger in his yard
Can they not see the sadness within
Now the Tigers are in trouble
Do you want them just in a zoos
Numbers are getting very sparse
Man has so much to answer too
When you buy things like Palm Oil
Tigers are not on your mind
But this oil has meant a clearance
Of some piece of Tiger Land
Run free tiger run free.
Penned 30 July 2013
Boast brownies baking
in dirty palm oil bacon fat
Sugar-coated swine vanilla cupcakes;
pineapple upside down snout snacks,
so coconut phone hasty ...
Sound-byte puff pastry
Flour-face teflon pan —
tart marshmallow mint muffin
Silver tongue baguette
spooning out citrus acid banter batter,
so sour cream tasty ...
Lip huff puff pastry
Pinocchio banana crêpe nose;
roasted lies, almond alibis deep fried
Blueberry bagel beak raisin Cain,
yeast yell swelling pride:
Con-fectionary leaven in the oven,
so mint cookie I scream dainty ...
Pigging out on the puff pastry
Prune-flavored pucker paczki,
Fat Tuesday belly decadent bowel delectable
Cinnamon bun —
pumpkin spice glazed doughnut sphincter hole,
so dollar fig bark hasty ...
Plum tweet puff pastry
Odd cream of Bavarian
whip up the Orange Clockwork zest crowd
Egg white octogenarian
kneading raspberry rhetoric —
Gen. Custard pie hole powdered sugar loud,
so strawberry swirl tasty ...
Marble fudge puff pastry
Apple cruller golden crust coin flavor,
chocolate frosting money honey savor
Pecan pie cherry cheek a la mode,
buttery scone biscuits served cold
Key lime cheesecake dainty ...
Black bury tone puff pastry
We love to make lists,
To describe, name, number.
How can it have value,
If not on my list.
As logger I stand
Before the green forest,
The numbered trees
Are ones to cut.
The forest cut down
Is only to me
Bigger box to live in,
A shiny new car,
The species I slaughter
Are not for my count,
They appear on
Another mans list.
Naturalists say
We'll not care to,
Protect animals
We're not taught
To love.
But lists stand appalled
At life in the forest,
So long they peter
In our dismay,
Jaguar, Lemur
Capybara, Agouti
Blue Morpho Butterfly,
Tree Toed Sloth.
Tapirs, Ocelots
Even Kin Ka Jous,
Countless insects
Eagles and bats.
Scarlet Macaw,
Reptiles, amphibians,
Snakes and lizards
Too many to count.
Epiphytes, bromeliads
The Bougainvillaea
Ferns, moses, lichens,
Quite without number.
Two thirds of flowering
Plants are found
In rainforests
Going on lists adinfinitum
But do you really care.
Capitalist drivers
Economy must grow
Making it cheap
To maximise profit.
Palm oil a desert
Hard wood for looks
Till next years fashion
Changes the rolls.
Who can make lists
Play the accountant,
If the bottom line
Only shows human worth.
How many species are
Bought for ten dollars,
Balanced in columns
Of profit and loss.
What accountants
Hand or eye could
Frame the aeons
That go to create
The beauty
Of the ecology of life.
Tiny movement
On the wicker chair
Jumping spider
Catches the eye,
Instant spring
Strand to strand.
All its being
Compact perfection,
Taut intent
In the moment of life.
Awed to wonder
Begs the question,
How can anyone
Cut the rainforest
That I learn is,
Though never will see.
delightful palm oil
puts orangutan at risk
barren land of shame
The journey began from birth
Since presented out into this life,
The brow beating experience,
Gloom besetting this vagabond soul
Are harrowing like the trail in front,
The ancestors had proclaim the future
To be bright, baring all retributions
Encounters in life,
They have spat out hard wine
Cracked the obliging kola nuts
And chewed the Alligator pepper,
Honey gel and Adun had featured in my throat
I have been boiled in salted perfume
And showered with herbal spring,
My soap is dark mushroom from an ancient iroko
Soaked in the pot of palm oil
I am spick and span;
The red-hot emerald from ember of coal
Have burnt into my chord
And swallowed into my belly,
I, lifted up with shaking hands
And showed to the rising sun,
The two hands clasped together
Taken up at wrists with shaky hands
And showed to the setting sun,
My legs brought together
Gripped at the ankles with shaking hands
And turned upside down;
Showing me the underside, inner in of the universe
The world is not trust worthy
Don’t take more than you can chew
Don’t give more than you can chew
You will grow and yet old
Prosper in life yet progressive
Go in peace,
You will not miss it
You will not die
You will not smell
You will not wander
You will not miss the entrance to your abode
You will not suffer reproach
Go with joy,
I then gathered together including
Sack of experience of life on my back
Loaded with my egg on top,
They weigh a tone but, not a weigh down.
I have journey to the end of the ocean,
Climbed to the tallest peak
Tour to where the wind originated,
Seen and met genera diverse in
Mythology, taste, setting in milieu
I have gone to the end of pleasure
And back; still I am on trip.
I could recall the
epic journey of my
ancestors
With palm oil in
their lips and kola
nut in their mouths.
They all wore the
ancestral rope down
on their waist
down the mountain of
wisdom and bravery
To fight for the
freedom through the
ancient call.
Wisdom and
perfection were with
them.
Courage were their
backbone
They were bound to
the journey.
They were champions
of all time,
Heroes who fought
merrily for their
generation to come
they Harvested the
roses of the
paradise and grown
them in my village.
Pretty roses, king
of all flowers are
grown in my humble
land.
Champions are breed
under a glorified
atmospheric
condition in my
village.
Pretty ladies with
dark ski, long hair,
pointed nose,
beautiful body
White set of teeth
and dimples are
breed there
Under the motionless
passion of love.
Wisdom are made in
my home town
Love grows strong in
the eastern
heartland.
Bravery dwells in
the southern home
where the black
liquid lives.
Have you heard of
Chinua Achebe, Wole
Soyinka, Niyi
Osundare,Femi
OSofisan, Olu
Oguibe, Buchi
Emecheta, SEfi
Attah, Helo Habila,
Teju Cole, Flora
Nwapa, Adaobi
Tricia, J P Clark,
Ben Okri, OBinna
Eruchie, Chimamanda
Adichie, Saro Ken
Wewi, Akachi
Adimora?
They are roses from
my village.
With the spirit of
"NIgerism" they
stand tall, unshaken
They speak louder
and clearer upon the
mountains,
They lifted their
body and soul to
work
And break through
discrimination and
rejection.
To tell the world
that Nigerian could
do better.
They were crucified
by thought and
change
Passion for
greatness, air of
change, they breath.
There are still
undying roses within
speaking silently
Waiting for the
right time to strike
the match box
Waiting for an angel
to emerge like the
village voice
To speak perfectly
to the world.
Roses are grown in
my village.
JACKIE OILY PALMS
I recall them days that i lived
at the east coast of Kenya
then a college boy
We lived at the hostels near customs
in a place near an animal orphanage
Hallers park- near Bombolulu town
Where coastal s loved to partake
sweet palm wine straight from
the palm trees all over the region
Me Georgie and Jackie
then best of buddies
went to try out the wine
Started out on the real wine
before they offered us 'cham'
claiming its oil from the palms
First taste i know its locally distilled spirits
very potent and lethal.. i edge my buddies off
but despite.. they decide to partake the spirit
back to the eatery Jackie now eating
from the dinning table apparently those
who partake palm oil don't need plates
Jackie following day too sick cant attend classes
we did-int tell him the secret that me and Georgie
threw up all we drank from our delicate stomachs
Brave Jackie held it in and Memo had to comfort him
..Sorry Jackie you have malaria fever and your so sick..hic..
we dint let go that twas the palm spirits haunting our Jackie
lewis k NYAGA
EGUSI SOUP.
Blessed vegetable leaf with
Melon roots
Selected soup from the
Eastern roof,
My taste bud is the only
Proof,
As pounded yam is her groom
Eba could be a quality
Substitute.
Ingest and digest because this
Is the best,
Nutritionist recommends
Strangely my skin becomes
Fresh,
She even doubles my strength.
Assorted meats to select
Stock fish sinks in Egusi's chair,
Pets enjoy her remnant.
Sufficient palm oil is a blend
It remains on her shallow bed
This makes Egusi almost red.
Five fingers is the instrument
Begin to roll into Egusi's trench.
Egusi is Ibo's friend
She also visit's different events,
Her eminence, favorably prepared
By pretty women
Who are culturally dressed.
Egusi is this natural herb
Cures illness without my consent,
Tarnish as many plates
She never torments,
I will respect green and protect
Her children.
Habib Akewusola.
Borneo Pygmy Elephants are listed as, endangered
and they were isolated, about 300 thousand years ago
from their cousins, on mainland Asia and Sumatra
and they are known as, the smallest Asian Elephant
They have shrinking forests, with human settlements
and there’s a lot of logging, with a conveyor belt running
There are palm oil plantations, creating a lot of sediment
and a lot of agriculture, destroying their natural environment
what does it take to convince retards, who run companies their wrong!
polluting the seas is destroying a main source of oxygen.
the stuff we breathe. palm oil found toxic to life, sea and shore, dogs too!
Inside the pot of the poet
Is the soup to maw
Prepared of stew during dew
Fishes and beefs crave for
Survival off poet's mouth.
In the soup of the poet,
Ingredient abounds in the pot.
Rhyme pepper appears along Haiku
Epigram stewed Pastoral with Sonnet
Timed Iambic tangle freely with Free verse
Ode speak of Ballad with maggie of Tanka.
Couplet spill curry over Epic of Quatrain
Blank verse added onion to a Canzone
Tin tomatoes had Epithalamium stewed
Elegy took along a dry pepper to an Epitaph.
Carpe diem had groundnut oil gushing
Abc verse sprinkled Alliteration with a palm oil
It took Rictameter of locust beans for a Sestina
Salty Burlesque put smiles in a pot of Dirge
The soup was full of Limerick of Etheree.
Confusion of ingredients in the soup
The poet wilt more in dilemma
Which one of them do I maw?
For the soup of the poet is full.
Ayande Stephen.T
12.15pm
17th August 2006
Still on my way to Apagbon in Lagos on the behest of IPC
Chairman,Lanre Arogundade.
Specially packaged for www.poetrysoup.com for being a wonderful family.
Here we are
Just the two of us together
Taking this crazy chance
To be all alone
We both know it has taken forever
But if we are found out
It will break our homes
The tether along with its dance
Pools in our eyes
Northern lights in the skies
Not a palm oil light in sight
To pierce this cold winter night
Here we sit
In this old mossy park
We two in the dark
The wise old blue jay flies
His flock may be spies
Or they are carrier pigeons
Winging dubious lies
The grist mill flows
In its easy mourning clothes
The church steeple sleeps
And the tree top sighs
A soft breeze blows
And the journey cakes rise
The hope we share
Is a tendered feather
Someday we’ll be discovered
Loved ones will care
Cupboards to be bare
And the threads that bind us;
a half-life of heather
So with pools in our eyes
Northern lights in the skies
Not a sound or street lamp in sight
To pierce this winter night
Live for the moment
A tear in our eyes
Soon we must bid elastic goodnight