Best Roves Poems
Up high on our soul’s trapeze
we tire of the bar we hold
but we find it hard to release our known.
Eyeing the free bar of full potential,
we wish to air dive, then faith-catch that swing
so we may fly to where our allure roves.
All crave heights something in us sights.
Here comes, now nears, the free bar
we thoroughly want to grab,
but fear paralyzes all dreams we have.
We tell ourselves what convinces ourselves
to stay put, we count the reasons we should:
"there’s no way it could work out;
not with the balance in my bank account;
I'm too body sorry and old for dating;
I’m so tiny they won’t want me playing;
If I joined, problems would just stack;
Not without good health that I lack;
Trying would just lead to more crying.
Many angels tend God’s blessing warehouse,
some dusting boxes of blessings bearing names
of those who felt they deserved no claim.
When faith lacked so did dust thick stack.
Father stressed pressed,
promised abundance,
yet many clutch less
and name it their best.
Such believing may weave soul regret debt
for our depth knows we were made to love, not fret.
A simple scene a nestling seeks the comfort of the night
to lay enthralled, engrossed, in memories of past days,
the nectar drawn from rivulets that run past blackened lash.
A lidded eye roves left, then right, as if it’s been betrayed
a corner tick, a slight knee twitch, odd choices now made.
The blanket once a comforter now twists so very tight.
A falling dream, a horrid scream, yet no land's in sight.
Bloodless body, writhe, heave, callout, nobody's home
your casing calls, umbilicus, umbilicus, reel me down.
A flying lift of breeze ‘neath hips, a lofting, oh so, high,
brings soul to ground with sighing sound within the dream,
entranced, aroused, the coming light, the end of night, wake.
First Published in Sweet Dreams and Night Terrors 2013
Crown of Thorns
A trace of thorns you are
on my body,
I am an eternal traveller,
never stopping.
You are the bitter predicament
of my comfort,
Traces of sensual pleasures -
The mist of a veil is
my constant reminder.
You wound the stubble of my heartly thorns,
I stand alone on the dusty conflagration
Gazing towards an endless void,
I am bridled with the burning pain of the
thorns...
My gaze tirelessly roves,
Prickly are the thorns,
With malediction entwined...
I am drowning in a sweaty torrent,
I am plunging into thorny depths,
bloody and overworked
from the struggle,
I yield myself to
the decision of fate.
Hearth of Winds
From west to east you plumb axisal spin,
And darted on the limbs of the poles.
On longitudes and latitudes, you are dotted in silhouettes.
Just above the horizon of age, you journeyed,
Beckoning the threshold of syllabubic windfalls.
Sated with doldrums of lambent haul,
And the pomp of sycamore hover instill.
When you call again at the Isle of trench,
The oracles of time shall tune again the aviary.
Seated upon the pillion of days the carter roves,
Tilting in all directions with hopes of succour.
A long way from time indeed you are,
But as the tides of valour surmise you triumph.
Once I saw an array of humanic acclaims,
In a manger of Sylphic heath of tenderness.
The hills of tonic travails titivating the hold,
And all the flakes of materialism dancing attune the vista.
The tales of deeds will forever entail polemic puzzles,
And the spate of the weaver’s loom shall reckon amidst.
Adeola Yusuf Amuni
Music roves forgotten recess.
Spectrum of colors lack comprehension.
Objects of undeciphered importance appear.
Landscapes with familiar distortions,
Capture dialogue of competing personas.
The decayed buildings of my past,
Meet the repainted canvases of the future.
We row the lake of dreams in ignorance,
Lost in erratic, impulsive winds.
Hurricanes look tame in comparison.
Sometimes I find delight,
Loving many,
Finding impossible pleasures,
Discovering new insights,
Solving complex problems.
I have conversed with deceased relatives,
Witnessed black horrors,
Screamed in unsolicited howls,
Awoke in unhealthy shivers,
Breached chaotic doors.
Murderer
Victim
Seducer
Hero
Moralist
Criminal
Who directs the movies of my mind?
I am an actor without knowledge of the script!
Like a balloon, happiness soared high
Like a sword piercing through the blue sky
Deflowering the virgin power of gravity
She roves every commune with dexterity
I saw her parched on a tree
And the birds chirped and danced in glee
Heaven of alves, made reality
She roves every commune with dexterity
Upward she soared and soared again
Invading Lord's sanctuary without bargain
Angelic fingers plucked guitars in uniformity
She roves every commune with dexterity
21/07/2011
By:Joseph Osita
For Francine Roberts' "happiness is a balloon contest"
in the woods getting lost is a bliss,tall trees like mothers welcome me in their scoops, giving off comfort in my waning sense of insecurity,shrubs give tiny berries cool like candy under the blazing sun,to soothe avid soul; on arrival there's an all-pervading tranquility, the wonderful sagacity of nature,smell of petrichor earth, brings forth mother's breastfeeding, the sauce of my upbringing,as time passes on evening sets in, under the placid moon i discover the footprints of my life....
a creaky night-bird
roves the canvas sky in woods
paints my mother's face
haibun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mick Talbot
DOE: 06/25/2018
A mushy voice had left me insensate…
My soul grinned & hallowed my fate…
That “Belle” rambled close to me with elegance…
As if she comprehended riddle of my deep Sense…
Words from her rose lips felt like paradise…
It made the fondness for her in my heart rise…
Like a minor she laughs and roves for all to sight…
Becomes an astounding moment like sun bright…
While portraying her stunning beauty, I have inadequate utterance…
Seeing that each imperfect expression for her beauty would be an offence...
The tricycle army
What does a tricycle mean to a three year old?
Just as another plaything, does, it, she behold?
Loving it like the grown-up’s love for love’s madness
On it, she roves about the yard and inside the house.
But , is it all there is to this special bonding?
No, it has got another level of standing.
Like, when she thinks someone in the house had hurt her
Crying for help, she runs to her grandfather,
Quickly mounts her tricycle without omission
And escorts the grandpa to the scene of action
Seated on its saddle like a queen on horseback
Shouts orders to give her tormentor a nice whack
Applauding the action with gleeful laughter
The- tricycle- army glides back to its quarter.
For: Gwendolen Rix’s “My Bicycle” contest
28 apr 12
I
Whenever would thou bleed, thus bind,
Thy lying heart will shed its feel;
Why art thou kne'd? Thy eyes art blind
To drops whose sight them ne'er heal.
II
At order yours, domain of fever,
For I did never flow had got;
Blush all my farewells to the river
Through spirals shore hath been forgot!
III
Lost are the roads, the walks, the flies;
and e'en my wraith the glimpses shend;
the gust of Love becoming craze:
alone the light will pose to me withstand.
IV
Nor gaze the cheek at kiss thereof
It rouses; turns should yet event;
Neither at coldness pale the waving luff,
As always breathe is left but never sent.
V
For I ply remissance drawing this-
If the world shall to pleat lade,
Not 'twas drawning for thy bliss;
Not for thee was pour'd: may maid.
VI
Is mine horizon as tears gray
Thy love the light through whom;
The bosom not for hour, day,
Nor night it pray, But to its home.
VII
Is lone an hexitating fright,
The silence rounding ridge of woes;
And as forgiven one's dreft faith,
Thus be the roves, and not the lies.
VIII
'Tis be the greatest grief
To dare a kiss to coldless path,
Thus frame the soul in lineless wrath,
Bleeding the crown thou hath- and still relief.
Sun never sets,
moon nor rises at night;
It's the wonder planet earth,
In exhilaration vacillates,
roves around the universe;
Hides day heating sun,
Show's way to
skittish girlish moon;
Slowly-slowly,
She appears in dark;
Stage by stage,
when she shows up,
In full face from her veil;
In cool embellishing touch,
Earth ecstatically glows;
No day, no night,
No light, no shade,
If we don’t have earth;
Don't desolate entity of globe,
We need sun and moon,
Need day and night both;
Need earth to survive for us;
(In Hindi)
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© Sadashivan Nair
Lying under oath
With an American pin on their shirts
They wave the US strategy
Dance ‘n Killing and Smiling
They plunder our economy
Using the propaganda to show nothing is wrong
The fox is in their bed to fill the illusion
It’s hiding behind the bush to prevent the truth from showing
And the hounds are on the chase
Get out those guns he yells fight for democracy
With a Sieg Heil under their breath
They emulate what was long ago
Listen closely to their words and phrases
Homeland security is a neo-nazi face
It induces post World War 2 Hitler’s German race
Roves descendents created the cinders of Auschwitz’s
Eugencies are alive and well in hiring questionnaires
They want to know how you think
They want to know how you’d react
They twist your mind to test your reasoning
We need true bloods to defend our way of life
He rally’s the crowds enticing the young
You can come home soon when the job is done
I’m sorry, I don’t have a date
Because the democrats wont give me the money
to hold Iraq into a prison state. To fund the war
you see where not invaders were liberators
it just looks the same
I have asked for a simple resolution
An agreement without strings attached
Without an ending date to pull the troops out
Why cant the democrat’s compromise
Why is it they don’t understand?
That our solders are there to defend the American land
To trick and sway
Dictatorship! Through democracy is the only way.
Midnight groans so quietly
From a churchyard far below,
Sky within the pathway
Gives off a charcoal tinge,
And darkness roves, alone
Farther than my throbbing glance
And moves back into a shade
Like the deepening of these eyes
Where pale nocturne withers
Past ghastly streaks of mourning:
Like nibbled ashes through late dusk
Setting the sun to be gone
Constellations peacefully gather,
like acrobats falling to sadness
The moon peruses a small light
Overseeing time's twisted face --
This agony evanescing into another trail
Besieged...pierced by stars.
Silence sings to me
The song of sleep, while my soul
Clichés autumns breeze
Where it roves in wild gleamed trance
As dream broke realities.
Timothy- Paker Nwaorgu
For Olajide Adelana's "Dream Land" contest
18/01/2012
point not a finger,
when a dark cloud roves around us,
wild thoughts linger,
evil hearts waiting to throw a bomb on us.
take charge as your own,
for several still smile back at you,
your right as your responsibility,
... and goodness will sail back to you.
a healthy world is me and you,
a green breathe surrounding you,
for long we'll starve in poverty,
unless your care is beyond the possibility.
point not a finger,
when able is your second name,
generations await in the docket,
we fail to act we are to blame.