Best Roomy Poems
I’m a secret watcher of Dr. Who, but now you know, and his tardis is bigger on the inside as the cult following knows. So much philosophy, such as we look much smaller on the outside. It is as if “The Doctor” lives inside his brain as do us poets always imagining something greater...something bigger. And yet we can also reduce something to its smallest component and expound it. We look at a seed, climb inside its shell and see the universe. We keep walking in and out of our world, amazed at its nonconformity to our idea of reality. We see a box, color it blue...just blue the teacher says as she points with a ruler and slams down hard on your knuckles. Persnickety self says “black and blue.” The teacher points “out” and you gladly climb back into your roomy cocoon. A butterfly emerges with Queen Alexandra wings that land on the teachers hair, taunting her, beating her at her game of “inside the lines.”
11/5/2018
Fly me to the moon
And let me play the stringed tunes,
The nod-nod head of a lover’s hoot
Let me dance among the stars
The tap-tap feet of a chivalrous heart...
When my gaze beheld you-my spouse
In our heart true passions doused
Draped like silk, a face with love soused
A new home in you I found.
I saw in you a beautiful wife
A flashy rectitude that brought new life,
That ravished me with sapphire eyes so fine
Fitted in your pearl socket, not of swine
You have triggered the jubilee of sunshine valentine
Now torch me with the kisses of your lip so bright
And swing me with the noontide delight I delight
Tangoing the tango of moonlight
I woo you with a honey tongue
Like silly doves we coo this carol song
In the sonority of your voice is compassion
Borne in a roomy heart for sacred fun.
… Fly us to the (honey) moon
Play us the bedroom tunes
In a solitary nook,
Let’s twirl this ballet as David in jolly mood
And wreathe in celestial honeymoon cocoon.
Prince Agba.
Dedicated to those who are facing diverse marital squalls in their homes, may God
mend your broken hearts and homes.
Standing in a foreign nation, fragrance from a fresh cremation
Lost and long forgotten by the beasts that roamed my home
Nights are dark and gloomy but the tundra’s so damn roomy
Here is where I want to be so leave me standing here alone
Here I stand a man with quill in hand is all I own
That, my crown and throne
Walking on the sandy beaches, there I saw the strangest creatures
Living in a unison together on their own
Then behind the bushy myrtle, hid the cowardly old turtle
“Don’t be hiding there old turtle, don’t be hiding all alone!”
But the turtle stayed behind the bush beneath a stone
This, he calls his throne
Night defeats the sunlights laughter once the mockingbirds cry after
Day has set so I can be the king of lands I roam
Darkness gives me all the cover, more than I could need a lover
Here is where I want to be so leave me here alone
Darkness is my friend so I can call this land my home
Here, I sit on my throne
Moonlight let the turtle scurry athwart on the beach to hurry
Into deep blue seas where he is free to swim atoned
Creatures from the deep blue ocean bow down to their king’s devotion
When the sun arose he then recoiled back in his dome
“Pity you old turtle” I said, “hiding there alone.”
That, you call a throne?
Days long gone that I remember, Spring-time joy in mid-November
Hiding in and oak tree from the creatures of my home
Now my kingdom bows before me no one stares or dares ignore me
Here I stand a king, adore me, lord of all I own
Pity all I own is barren, barren to the bone
At least, I have my throne
Then one starry twilight dreaming, where I stood there pride redeeming
Came along the turtle beaming till he saw my throne
In a flash, his neck retreated in his shell and self conceited
“Don’t be shy and self defeated!” Said I, in stern tone.
“Stick your neck out, coward, or you’ll end up all alone!”
Returning to his throne
Returning to my throne
When I woke in shock and horrid, scaly felt my morphed new forehead
Overwhelming dread and torrid shook my body to the bone
There I was a transformed turtle hiding there beneath the myrtle
All along I was the turtle standing there alone
Horrified of all the creatures rounding my new home
My shell that I had grown
A self-made, feeble throne
oh hello-
my name is frigidair and I am
a (retro) refrigerator
for food
I have been in this apartment
since 1950
a nice kitchen but I cannot move
so not sure about
the rest
I am tall as a person
and a bit fat
a lovely creamy white
with drawers
(and an egg compartment)
and of course a freezer
I am restored a restoration
not quit an antique yet
but feeling my age
my father was general electric
and mother was pink
my sister was turquoise
free standing happily I hum
all day
and all night and sometimes I
clunk
I look crooked but that's the floor
I seem to be going
downhill
inside me are good things
like meat and poultry ice cream
milk eggs vegetables juice
fruit
please be careful with my door
oh some of my shelves are lopsided
(well that's old age)
and lets not talk about the cracks
but I still work
and some say I am quite appealing
I've aged well in this heritage building
or at least that is what
I heard (and the word vintage)
did I tell you they restored me
to be frost free
(they put me to sleep for that)
the girl likes that about me
I like it when she caresses me
with a wet damp clothe
she is quite proud
of me
and I like this room big and roomy
and the window
looks out on a lovely garden
that's so nice
and the little things the girl has
on counters so pretty (she is)
she always puts some flowers
by the sink for me oh how sweet
its really a good life for a refrigerator
although not sure how much time
I have left
(no regrets) and to all refrigerators
let me say keep cool and plugged in
__________________________
September 10, 2015
Free Verse Personification
For the contest, A Tribute To Major Appliances
Honorable Mention
There're frost and sun, the day is fairy,
You're sleeping yet, sweetheart, you're merry,
It's time, wake up, my pretty lass,
Open your eyes that are so tender
towards Aurora and her splendour
Rise like the Northern star to bless.
The eve, remember, evil blizzard,
Sky's full of mist, sky was imprisoned,
the moon was just like yellow stain,
It shone through clouds that were so gloomy,
You were so sad, your room is roomy,
But now, look in the window, hey...
Under the blue-blue skies of glory,
under the sun without some hurry
the snow that like great carpet lies,
Transparent forest blackened truly,
The hoarfrost covers spruces coolly
And river's shining through the ice.
I see the room is full of amber,
Room's bright and stove sings with great temper
of burning firewood.
It's good to think near bed, but maybe
order to harness horse, my lady,
to slide, it would be good.
We're sliding on the snow of morning,
My sweetheart, let horse runs to dawning,
There is no time to wait.
Let's visit empty field, let's visit
thick forests, oh, I really miss it,
And shore that's sweet for our date.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Alexander Pushkin
Purpose plays pun
Arc aids alarm
Now nothing numbs
Decide deft ditch
Odd old outreach
Rich rustic raid
Aid arms afraid
Churn charming cheer
Honour host here
Attend aware
Restore ride rare
Apply and aid
Desire drops dead
Embrace empty
Sense sad story
Pleasure primes plot
See stylish slot
Yield yonder yoke
Choose charming choke
Health heaps honey
Endings easy
Calm clever choice
Heavy hearts hoist
Appoint apt art
Roomy retard
Mull million makes
Suffer sweep stakes
Nowhere near now
Aid and avow
Indulge ingrate
Verse voice vibrates
Embrace endow
Mind moves matter
Ask apt answer
Now not never
Keep knocking kind
Itch inks incline
Note nice niche near
Dance doubting dear
Healing hurts here
Explore extend
Real roasting rears
Encroach expanse
Leon Enriquez
09 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This is an Acrostic poem with Alliteration.)
Signal sweet sights
Pain pressures plight
Asking appeals
Reach ripe reveal
Keep kindred kind
Leave lousy lines
Endings entwine
Succinct sound stakes
Prime print partakes
Apt aim attest
Rich robust rest
Kind keepsake knot
Linger late lot
Embrace embloc
See-saw splendour
Peace prize plunders
Axe agenda
Real rider rows
Kneeling knave knows
Learn lots lively
Endure envy
Sight settles sound
Prize pays profound
Align around
Right response rounds
Knave keeping knight
Latent love lights
Etchings excite
Sparkling signs speak
Pleasure proofs peak
Appoint ample
Roomy rustle
Knock kind knuckles
Leisure little
Expound evil
Sexy soothes signs
Progress plain prime
Aiming aligns
Rapture reaps rhymes
Kind keep kindles
Lines leap lovely
Echoes empty
Leon Enriquez
01 Apr 2014
Singapore
Heavy eyelids
Drooping daze;
Blur fatigue
Hot weather
Sleepy eyes punctuate;
Somnolence
Well-fed bout
Too much food;
Sleepy convulsions
Eyelids heavy
Drowsy excursions;
Dreamy ESP
Chatter in slow motion
Awareness in decline;
Afternoon nap
Rapid express
Snoring sensations;
Roomy context
One by one
Figures tumble;
Sleepy exposure
Painful waiting time
Dental appointment;
Fatal extraction!
So many things
Left unsaid;
Good conversation
Drowsy listening
After lunch break;
Learners half asleep
Crowded space
Edgy moods prowl;
Silent rage sparks
Extra dry drought
Wild fires burn;
Smoke and ashes
Take a walk
Make some small talk;
Stiff indifference
Crowded street
Lonely faces;
Anxiety engineers
Busy footsteps
Crowded mall;
Noise pollution
Brief glance
Beauty meets beast;
Bar stool permutation
By crowded footpath
Old cripple cries:
Help me, buy tissues!
Day time escapades
Sunday morning jog;
People street hog
Leon Enriquez
20 Apr 2014
Singapore
Cryptic contours charade,
Rousing riverfront raid;
Young yonder years yielding,
Prosperous peace prancing;
Taunting tale telling trite,
Icon imprints invite,
Clever casting charm cites...
Minds merge mingling motives,
Embalm emergent edge;
Rising riches restive,
Lofty lion-maned ledge;
Instruct inbound inklings,
Outline obvious oozing,
Niche nice new nurturing...
Fancy fish-tail flings flair,
Age aligns apt affairs;
Sense survival seeking,
Hope's hasty hurts hurling;
Intent invents impasse,
Observe optimum ooze;
Now nimble nascent noose,
Salty sea spray surpass...
Sculpt seaward sea-bubble:
Taut tensile tendency,
Obscure odd odyssey,
Raise roomy revelry;
Years yield yarns you yodel...
See sensuous story stay,
Charm cleverly cheers clay;
Raise rousing ripe refrains,
Indulge instincts ingrained;
Prime plot puzzling playground,
Trailblazer touching town...
Move myopic mindset,
Yesterday yielding yet;
Tease trouble's trying threats,
Hoist happy hustling hat...
Leon Enriquez
01 November 2014
Singapore
I know you see me from up there,
from halfway up the steep and twisting lane.
In early half-light as you take your walk
I no doubt seem to loom as you descend,
appear to grow, to rise from earth,
my boxlike rectilinearity,
severe and unadorned geometry,
a silhouette against the solitary sodium source.
I once hosted fiery-throated hymns
from dedicated souls in Sunday best:
“Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus”,
“O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” –
voices rich and raised and resonant,
so filled with faith, so gorged with God.
My pitch-pine pews were polished
by coat and skirt and trouser twill.
Abandoned now, unloved, slab-still,
void and stark and desolate,
with quarry-tiled floor that would resound
with joy were anyone to walk upon it,
I present gaping emptiness, a thing felt,
a cave whose darkness, palpable,
is peopled by retreating echoes of my past,
like timorous ghosts far too afraid to speak.
But there is One I must not name –
though He might be known by
the four letters of the tetragrammaton –
who lodges in my roomy quarters,
cowers within my tight square corners,
seeking shadows when the sun stares in.
I hear Him breathing as
He sweats in His remorse, a thing smelt.
He hides from the accusing eyes of every nation,
the eyes that witness daily His forlorn creation.
(The chapel speaking here is in a small place in West Wales, UK)
(Translations: “Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus” = "Ride on Jesu, all victorious"; “O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” = "O Jesu, let Thy spirit bless")
Explore each ease
See sweet soul seize
Pleasure prunes please
Kindle kind keep
Store supple sleep
Dance dreamy deep
Hold healing hope
Sculpt simple scope
Choice crafts calm cope
Preach poignant poise
Verse vibrant voice
Cheer crazy choice
Weird wonders weave
Loony lines lift
Start steady sift
Dare doom delay
Rise reaps replay
Air arms array
Crazy crowds cheer
Roomy rest rears
Pick pensive peers
Crave clever calm
Blessings bring balm
Pray profound psalm
Slide subtle sums
Here hides hoarse humps
Oomph odd outcome
Be beyond bold
Odd offers old
Tensile tales told
Now nimble near
Tickle treats tears
Frolic frees fear
Leon Enriquez
17 December 2014
Singapore
Tim was nineteen years old, getting ready to go to university,
His parents had organised his accommodation
A house for students, roomy, very near to outskirts of city,
His friends shared all costs, ready for their future education.
Tim went through his things at home very carefully,
Took his favourite clothes, guitar, and some trinkets,
Excitedly, finished his packing, when almost voluntarily,
A yellowish old small paper fell into his homemade biscuits.
It was an old receipt from a cobbler dated years ago, February
1959 Eloff Street Johannesburg, close to the University,
Tim threw it into his case, keen to keep this, for it was history,
The signature was his grandfathers who died last year, Fre Hitty.
But Tim and his friends for now, only thinking of girls and party times,
Tim decided to go into the city, had to buy books and stationery,
The bottle store first, beers, a party this Saturday, amongst the vines.
However, next to the store Tim saw a shop which looked rather eyrie.
There was a sign, Cobbler, arrows pointing up a dark passage and stairs,
‘Cobbler’s Place’, written at top of receipt that he pulled out of his pocket,
Yes, goodness me, this place does still exist, an old man holding two pairs
Of shoes appeared, easily almost ninety, Tim handed him the docket.
The old man took it, slowly walked to the back through a narrow door,
After a good half an hour he returned with a smile on his weathered face,
Well, if you pop in tomorrow at the same time, your shoes will be ready,
Cost of living has gone up since my youth, you must now pay more than a penny.
No problem Sir replied Tim, but amazing is that the shoes are not ready,
All the way back from 1959, seeing that your shop and your work still exist,
Yet i still have to collect them tomorrow, may i have my grandfathers Freddy's
Shoes back please, no but the old man began to say, Sir Tim said, I do insist.
Apologies to all but i left out my last four most precious meaningful lines, i have now attached them.
SMALL TOWN LIBRARY - OCTOBER
Sleepy with silent words , soundless print
Outside a world of school bells and traffic hum.
Cant keep my focus, glasses need renewing.
Read same line seven times, I’m losing
My place - losing my grip. I am
Held in a place where speech ends and
Time stops - quiet, silence, hush , no noise.
Afternoon long pale crimson sun oozes
Into gloomy room, lone sunbeam edging
Into the forbidden roomy gloom.
Silent stealthy steps like a yellow cat with
Dust motes held in its claws.
Snoozing over yesterday’s newspapers
Old man agreeing, nodding, mutters,
Nodding at the 1968 UN yearbook.
Studying and skimming thru files for a look
Imperceptible earphones in students head.
Kids being shushed for fairy tales being read
Smell of polished tables and newly-printed paper gloss,
Books on shelves by the dusty dozen to choose,
Quotes and poems by Zola, Balzac and Moses,
Flies buzz lazily by, old librarian checks books out,
Buzz, flicker, and plink-plonk from the faulty tube light.
Doze, lose consciousness,
Soon be November - winter approaching….
Got to save energy = mc squared = MC2…..
CO2 + H2O is acid rain = droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven…..and
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night, ****
And so to sleep , perchance to………….wake
In a place where speech ends,
Time stops………………….
**** Langston Hughes (1902-1967), U.S. poet. April Rain Song (l. 4-6)
Love lines linger
Feel form finger
Gripe greets ginger
Preach pretty pale
Touch telling tale
Sense simple sale
Live loose loiter
Mind moulds matter
Seek swell shelter
Make moments meet
Grumpy gears greet
See surprise street
Pump precious play
Streak sensuous stay
Dance dreamy day
Plot prompts prized poise
Charm cheery choice
Verse vibrant voice
Live loving lot
Touch telling thought
Speak spacious spot
Query ***** quest
Big blooms buzz best
Reap roomy rest
Lasting love lives
Bright blossoms breathe
Gracious good gives
Prime prune pickle
Feel faint fickle
Touch treats tickle
Grumpy grief grooms
Odd offers oomph
Rusty rhymes room
Leon Enriquez
06 December 2014
Singapore
just moments ago, a dawning realization
arose within this sol son begat
from ma late mother
and octogenarian widower father,
oh..no nothing cat
tuss strophic, boot merely the revelation,
how fist bumping dee clocks hour hand ahead
remembered by dat
dog gone refrain spring ahead, and fall back,
this unemployed chap doth down play eclat
attests that his quotidian schedule minimally effected
holed up here in Highland Manor named flat
roomy enough for thyself, the Missus,
and buzzfeed ding fruit flies
each approximately the size of a gnat
a minor nuisance, though tolerable
within this appealing habitat
where minor inconvenience experienced
by this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania resident
cuz as a recipient of social security disability
(social anxiety) this psyche didst get rent
which fixed (unearned) income budgeted
and predominantly costs of living money spent
hence no need to arise bright tailed and bushy eyed,
a freedom akin to folks camped out in a tent,
which exemption immunizes
this doodle ling middle aged
muddle brained chap subject ranting
early morning drivers,
who angrily, frenetically,
and splenetically rant and vent
thus, the tendency, piquancy, and lunacy
to twitter (for the Yardbirds),
and keep company with night owls, who went
a hooting for all the world wide web
to hear, whence dawgs Bach
the exact number of hours, yer oblivious
to the tight rigorous mortised schedule
manned by Mister Clock,
essentially foisting on Bread Winners,
an abstract artificial construct spurring
madcap commuters to scurry in the rat race,
lest tardiness could cost
more than paycheck
(to ap pier with permanent dock
hue ment aye shun),
an unwonted blot add hoc
king worry about getting canned -
i.e. on permanent furlough,
perhaps forced into a life of crime,
yet if caught...
wasting away in a jail cell
as warden turns the lock
one redeeming factor,
would offer opportunity to mock
management, and more pertinently
mandate to rock
and roll to the incessant muted,
yet devastatingly loud tick tock.