Best Songful Poems
Venus in View
Oh, megalithic moon, shine your rays upon my beatific being
For in this jubilant June, our hearts aflutter forever fleeing
My Venus stands still, a Goddess of the crimson songful sky
Within a throbbing thrill, my love comes in with a soulful shy
Oh Aphrodite grant me courage as the jewels of heaven glow
May the oracles flaunty furnish our embrace of eternities echo
And thus our love will flourish for the petals of desire bestow.
June.22.2018
Seven lines of romantic heaven
Sponsored by: Silent One
In this land of if only, I'd only have myself to reckon with
no real or imaginary people to fight with or have a tiff
In a world of seize and conquer I would feel no loss
I'd ride the ocean winds like an ancient Albatross
In a world of make believe I'd be Queen of fairies
grinding my worries away , I'd then pick berries
in a forest full of bears, tigers and wolves, I'd be
a minx with great stealth, I'd never want to flee
In a planet where stars moon and sun can be touched
I would make plans for a future that can't be botched
In a society that badges truth, compassion, empathy
I'd be happy as a lark in the sky, songful and free
In this land of if only, I'd be a wish that never dies ,
joining forces with all the conquerors of the skies.
BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
Silent songful wanderer, soaring free on the sky
conquering, unafraid to the golden rays of the sun,
fluttering either slow or fast, their colors show
like stemless flying flowers: red, orange, browns
unto gardens, rainforest, fields and prairie lands
off they are! From early morning until the night,
their quiet optimism: a lighthouse to any hopeful
delicate in beauty emerging from chrysalis womb.
Standing in each tooth-tip spot, they're like ballerinas
dancing and pausing as they do in lows and highs:
kissing blossoms curves for goods - a peaceful move
freezing and feeding effortless some onlookers eyes.
Seduced fingers reached to touch, glad most are missed.
Free. The majestic monarch is flying again, high. HIGH!
Such a natural canvass painted to every stop and flight,
beguiling more dreamers today, tomorrow and beyond...
______________________________________________________
Poetry Contest: BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
***1st Place***
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
Written January 10, 2016 @ 11:27 am
Angel’s songbirds awoke and flung the deal
Anisette chirps, sounds of reels
On that day my soul grew lyric
My heart couldn’t see it
Angels songbirds sing with me
And the harmonies never waiting
The sound singer souls singing
The song craft smiled
Ah, distinctly I was lullabying
And the hand claps never hymning yet rhyming
Death shall bring bass riffs
The sonic songwriting singsong smiths
Angels songbirds sing with me
I crave the lyrical, lyric leaf
From off my chest, my breath
Expressivity - expressivity - expressivity!
Somewhat louder than my debrief
I am shore of my golden voiced leaf
you warned me about the high relief
I crave the song-like, songful soundtrack
I feel my spirit leaving my back
Angels songbirds sing with me
That moment my soul grew analytic
The musical smiled
To warn me about the vibrato
And so you came gently jingling
Of duets that are bungling
Chirping metals yawn iron robins
My passion is the cuckoo lullaby, laugh angel laugh
Once I sat engaged and dancing, fly angel fly
Angels songbirds sing with me
When I thought of the song, sing angel sing
Deep into that darkness scoring, fly angel fly
In a kingdom full of shields, shield angel shield
On that day my soul grew lyric, fly angel fly
I awoke and flung the tenorist, high up to the skies
Much I marveled this overload alto, high angel high
Much I marveled the atonal hymn, sing angel sing
I have dreamed of the tempos, Hallelujah
Angels songbirds sing with me
Deep into that darkness interviewing, Hallelujah
That moment my soul grew singable, come sing with me
overloud alto, high angel high
Marveled the atonal hymn praises above all men, sing angel sing
Angels songbirds sing with me
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
All roads they say lead to Rome
But this one was leading towards home
A fiery storm brewing in fractions
Ripples surge to thirstily kiss the river’s mouth for reactions
The hubbub silenced with an inner raspy roar!
This scenic drive, a famished lovers’ galore
Latched securely and songful on the mountainous terrain
Forecast for the voyage; torrential romantic rain
There is more than one way, they say, to skin a cat
Specials for today- heartfelt cuddles, sheltered pecks, fragrant whispers and that tender pat.
The savouring of the pulpy gourmets roots the rhythm of lub-dub towards abrupt
So much balminess in the ‘Beautiful’ carriage; hearts are bound to erupt!
The night skies start to blanket over, home now, not so far
The hero of my movie; that gracefully-embroidered sweet red star
With the age of days in delight I would pose
And each time my pinning eyes would grace my pretty little red rose...
I know not the paint of your face nor the slang of your name
I know not the acoustic of your voice nor the creed before your knees
I know not the double of helixes taut beneath your skin
Nor do I know the furnace that keeps you earthen
But...
I know the hoofs in the sound of your heart
I know the miles in your stride
I know the walk you walk, the step you step.
I know the despairing blue of the waters you sail
The sea is songful and your sails spatter malevolence
Trauma picks her strings in the orchestral chime of your haggard vessel
Your efforts are a ripple that dies before lying head at shore
Canaries, squirrels and all; sip from the succulence of your effort
Your fruit rots, and falls devoid of ripe.
Your will is wilting; your gravity is shredding,
and worms of serene are dragging their bellies out of your field.
Your heart is a soulless harbour of tears; bereft of laughter
Where ships of despair lay anchor upon the lifeless hazel sands
And those of hope toddle away
The trolls living in caves of your cochlea whisper to you
And make believe the world can go on without you
Your heart is a tuber that pockets sugar, blood and vitriol
And fear glooms throughout its girth
Shuttlecocks fly, stars burn, flowers bloom, honeybees dance, birds sing, but humans---smile
Yet your lips are a two ply elastic, numb to stretch, plyed to wretch.
The waters of choice breathe and fins of hopelessness cast shadow upon the mollies of happiness
Choose life, choose happiness, choose to be human---live---smile
Your heart is muscle but a muzzle
Unstoppable, a thousand swords not
Iron your fist; leather your palm and let fingers kiss caress unto the trigger
Load your glock---cock; choose to be human---live
Should the wells of ammunition run barren---RELOAD!
Fit to screen the thumbnail and see the bigger picture
Sieve out the coarse of your options and remain with a universe more
Choose happiness, choose life, choose to be human---smile
Walk away from the frozen harbour of tears---live on
And catch up with the fleet of hope
I see a Nigeria clothed in white linen,
Her skin glitters and glows like the sun.
Her lips brightened the earth of its darknes,
Unity, love, progress and kindness uphold her.
She dances among the nations of the world
joyfully in a spirited atmosphere of goodness.
I see a spotless maiden with a pure mind,
She stood with an undiluted smile that create
Peace among the brethens who sees enmity.
I see an undefiled vegetable springing up from
The west coast of Africa among dwarfs territories.
She is cute, a song bird with a songful mouth.
When she walks pass the trees on the streets,
They all waved in admiration of her beauty.
She harbour no corruption in her humble heart,
No pothole skins like others who walks afar off.
She is carribean, she is African woman, Origianl.
Her beauty is a natural thing, original flavour.
Do you see the Nigeria I see over there?
A pretty Woman devoid of tears and suffering.
No sick leaders in her east and north wings.
I see a mother that covers her children from the sun,
I see kindhearted mother that never withhold from
Her children even when it meant starving herself.
I see a tomorrow Nigeria, a better She- nation.
Look at her polished legs and tell of tomorrow!
Watch her precious lashes and fall in love now!
Come closely close and behold her behind the
Glass house over there, who is greater among them?
My mother is a great woman, my mother is great!
Can you see the Nigeria I am seeing of tomorrow?
Though she may look a little weak today,
But I see another her blossoming like a flower.
Perhaps you don't see what I see now in my eye,
Tomorrow you shall see it as a testimony.
I see a better mother tomorrow, people's choice.
A tasteless water that nurishes the body daily,
A pipe that channels her resources to all,
I see a great country branded fidel by all.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
The brook thrums as it vaults over the piled rocks
Rolling on deep into the Zambezi valley
Twisting, flirting with the rigdes that compliment the escarpment beyond
And the indigenous lass strolled to the rivulet a rose
A dragon rose burgeoning before the morning glory of the sun
Her corn-rows tufted with the vermilion splendour
Of marigold petals she picked along the footpath
The sleeves of chives thriving along the watercourse
Weaved in the refined breeze sweeping across the wafting water surface
She surged on a jade
A jade turning, swinging in the butter sunrays
With every step, every turn
Seeking a new face, reflecting a new light.
Her supple skin freed from fetters of freckles and blotches
By the enchanted resins of the savanna balm
The hale and hearty of the chlorophyllous lily-pads
Reclining their backs against the waters
Consuming their limpid, shading enigma below
Genies, river monsters and cold blooded demons
That loll beneath the swish, patient, cuddling an ambush
She reached the songful stream
With her khakied antique clay pot clasped against her left hip
A treasure handled down her lineage
A pride of the tribal women
The gold then rested in her arms
She furled the pot beneath the mesh of lily-pads to quench its thirst
Offering the thyme of her bountiful body to the monsters
Her clamor short-lived while her breath sheared off
The waters gulped her, with the dye of her flesh teeming off
And the stream clad in red
The ceramic whimpered into shards
The seering forest kept vigil, languid
As it guttered down her tears along its wrinkles
Her palm couldn't bridle her fate
But let it sip off between her fingers
If you are the cold rapier of sovereignty
I'm the flames of hell that forge you
If you are the spread pallor of night
I'm the sleepless soul in your sullen
If you are the herald of mishap
I'm the ribbon of tan whose dust you awake
If you are the songful mockingbird
I'm the sylvan gourd twirling to your trills
If you are the darting trilobate arrow of retribution
I'm the billow whose back you surf
If you are the first born of Aphrodite
I'm the lost sea harbouring Uranus' genitalia
If you are the dirge of death
I'm the orchestra setting your symphony
If you are the sorcerer of the end
I'm the skull among the bones in your palm
If you are the pitiable mendicant
I'm the wretched jacket of holding your alms
If you are the cold rapier of sovereignty
I'm the scabbard kissing your blade
Cheerful, chirping little cherry---
crimson as the holly berry,
dressed in your vermillion best
with your pointy, feathered crest---
what a sight you are to see
perched atop a snowy tree.
Songful spirit of the pines,
streaking through the winter sky,
ne'er does your appearance cease
to bring a smile to my face.
Beau Brummell of backyard birds,
every dawn your song is heard---
distinctly sweet among the chorus
of the visitors from the forest---
brightening night's waning gloom
like the color of your plumes.
Friendly, feathered garden gnome,
be pleased to make this yard your own.
Winter, summer, fall or spring,
joy is when the redbird sings.
Deciduous
At a private party one rusting noon,
Green elm trees reveled with summer on its bier,
Gaily rousing a drowsy lagoon.
Some bathed their beak-scarred barks, those on the pier
Appeared to beckon birds come for songful fun;
For this they from the grave forest did run.
But soon their blades shall be bled, as
Amber leaves wring from brittle, weary boughs,
A purging of passions their hearts did house.
We snapped memories into photobook
Watching the edges of songful hedges
Draw a hopeful singlet of grace of
Testimonies conquered in neglected verses.
We played from the check of honoured
Dimples crossing routes of perfections.
Here are tunes playing from the photoshop
Of our hearts designing graphics cards
Filled with affections &bubbles of love.
Portrait of tomorrow carved an amazing
hours in the street decorated with colours.
these are colours depicting greatness
freshness &braveness of the voiceful heart
Kitchened through the celestial laughter
Of a slighting mother to her joyfulness.
We are similar, singular and opposite,
We are plural of everything humanity,
Sweetness of every singing lyrics & verses.
Let's this fondleness remain captivating
boys. Sweet. Bitter. Acidic. Sour. Raw.
Reflection of the World Series of smiles
Printing names on carved pumpkins leafs
Boys carrying themselves in their shadows
Carrying themselves in memories of their
Parents' pastoral culture and languages.
Boys spinning into crispy treats of white
dreams written on the stream of the skies.
We are fascinated about the rare cloud
journeying towards the stars of our souls
Harbouring our names in a bag of colours
Imagination are doubtful unperturbed pictures
Painted in the innocent face of boys of tomorrow
After the sun bent the tremour of our rushes
The rain came like a troubadour warrior
Between veteran lips of boys who went &never
returned memories of their family portraits.
We are boys carrying our family's loss
We are boys carrying our Father's legacy
Bearing the pursuit of our fathers yesterday
Look into our eyes & see our imaginations
those imaginations created by our ancestral
ancestors for tomorrow to hold our peace.
We may not know that these sands are made
of ridges of boys like us who went carrying
Pictures of dreams that we could not retrieve.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_Frustration
Oh lord repair mother Nigeria
Let Nigeria be Nigeria again
Let Nigeria be Nigeria, a home
Let her be great again in our eyes
Take away violence which we see
Take away kidnapping which eat deep
Take away corruption which we fight
Let there be peace in my fatherland!
Restore every good things demaged
Resurrect our government that is dead
Like a broken bucket I saw her shattered
Tears streaming and flowing like a river
Bruises on her face and body burning
Her pains and sorrow, you and I know
Repair my Nigeria, our Nigeria, your land
Oh Lord, repair mother Nigeria to greatness
I pray, we creed, they agreed and we sing
She had tasted enough blood and shame
Her eyes, our eyes, their eyes, my eyes
Searches of tomorrow in fear and helplessness
Repair mother Nigeria, repair our home we pray.
Let there be light as was in the past
Let there be smiles as was our understanding
Let there be kind coated leaders like our laughter
Oh lord repair Nigeria, my Nigeria, our Nigeria
Make her breast full again with succulent milk
The breeze of her lips a songful song of hope
We have no other home than this place
We have no other milk to drink than hers
Let Nigeria be Nigeria again we pray to you.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Kitana Mansa what words speak me
there shredded or triffled
the shoes of tired men
Mansa Kitana sing that
you are songful
the son of pleasant persons
the headjoint of the flute
the carved dogwood tree
music that causes pleasure
are songs that bothers me
These are you songs
these are the inspirations for
coupling marriage
defined by scholars
never to
be confessed or unraveled