Best Thirstily Poems
Earth's rich soil
humble dirt
complex dirt
elemental earth
layer upon layer
where it hides
mineral treasures
more than we could
ever measure.
Quartz and crystals
gold and gems
salt and silver
precious oil
stolen and lifted
by hands of men.
Rumbling from the
bowels of earth
hot magma rises
erupts and flows
spews and plummets
to lands below.
Mother earth
source of life
for plants and trees
roots run deep
thirstily searching
to seek and find
precious fountains
hidden waters
sublime.
There are hidden
secrets within
earth's crust
where we have come
from within it's dust
where God has formed
our earthly frame
where to dust
we'll return again.
Written on 3/7/2016
Oh Aphrodite! Mother of my two pearls
Venus of my night sky
Commander of my world
I fell for you like a comet
I burnt for you like Mars
Abide in my trajectory
While guided by stars
Your sonnet dedication metered
All is written in quatrain
I'm completed in your presence
In your absence I abstain
Diurnally blinded by fire in the sky
Cupped my hand to shade my eyes
And thirstily complain, about the lack of rain
Elongated animals on savanas and plains
Nocturnally beleagered but eternally yours
Seeking answers in ash , while staring at coals
no one hears my guitar so voicelessly strummed
Flames my desire , so forsaken my soul
A hundred thousand embers
Sparked a thousand million stars
Explosions in the ether
Flashing diamonds that we know
Unprepared for this journey
Undeterred my savage heart
Skies are ripped and torn by thunder
Clouds adrift and left asunder
Lonely cloud goes East and cries
The other West, and melted... dies
Quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
Romantic words spilled from his feathered quill
They are but woven threads, tenderly scribed,
an alluring nectar I chose to swill,
symbols of love I thirstily imbibed.
For the intimate relations we shared,
and of things he penned for my eyes to read.
Whispers to one another, our hearts bared,
and to us conveyed great passion and need.
Nowhere else do I wish to ever stand
then beside the one man who means so much.
Do my heart and soul respond to his hand?
Yes, they always yearn for his tender touch.
Lifted up, my voice sings as in my youth
Born on emotions of absolute truth.
February 2, 2022
Keola Secret ka-Ching Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Abandoned
by your own mother.
How could she
leave you to die?
You were helpless,
bedraggled and weak.
When I saw you
my heart melted…
who could resist
those huge blue eyes.
I scooped you up
and carried you home.
You cried for your mum;
but she was long gone.
I gave you warm milk
you drank thirstily;
then fell asleep
in my arms.
I begged my mum
to let you stay.
From that day
you stole my heart.
I fell in love
with my first kitten.
Sponsor Ed Ebbs
Contest Anacreontic Verse 1
11~07~15
Homer, Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, Goethe, and Crane;
Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dickens, Tolstoy, Whitman, and Twain;
Whose imagination and toil helped to unfold
Stories, philosophies, and lessons to be told.
The inquisitive student absorbed in his books,
Contemplating and learning while everyone looks
At him with judgmental glances, as if to say,
“Strange seeing him indoors even on this fine day.”
But to him, the weather is of little concern
While he is satisfying his deep thirst to learn.
Taken in by tales of peasants, lovers, and knights,
And those waxing on people’s and government’s rights.
Just then, he feels a chilly draft, but no matter,
As he tugs at his worn jacket collar’s tatter.
Off in the distance, he hears children playing games,
But no match for his fables with fanciful names.
Lost in some fiction, he really can’t help himself,
He thirstily reads his way across his bookshelf.
Hungry – but his knowledge appetite can outlast,
He ignores stomach growls as the lunch hour has passed.
The reader pores on in utter fascination,
As if in a trance, but not caused by libation.
Searching, grasping, he is mentally enraptured,
With meanings bold to subtle all being captured.
In deep translation of the scenes, plots, and faces
Scribed in earlier times and in other places.
He can wait for frolic, frills and things of that kind.
For now, the scholar will sit and enrich his mind.
2/26/17
Tropical quadra plateau, Amazing bright sunny,
Glided waterfall Carrying happiness in their gunny.
Long nodding flower's joyously plumed,
Everbody waving happily, the herald bloomed.
Eureka, I love this heaven on earth!
Hazy perished hills, houses trenching at the outskirts,
Swaning over to the fluctuating peak of mountains, roosted with struts.
Orchid waftured, Clinging on to the cluster of flowers,
Precipitated rain was about to shower.
Gosh, it Stimulated my soul!
King of beast, sucking the sweet tempting fragranced juices,
Solitary alienate species including Honey bees mused badly abuses.
Fluttered wings, Struggling with them, Leisurely travelling my journey.
Fitnessed physically as if I am in an defensing army.
Situation turned to be horribly muddle,
Tremendously, I wanted to sort and excitedly cuddle!
Proud to have an Airfoiled wings of mine,
Antennate feature you prissily shine.
Rainbowis passion lying inside me,
Resourcefully mingled with music and dance, happening besides me.
Whoa,People got entranced!
People jeopardize the innate beauty,
Relishingly wanna do my duty.
Actuating my arms, Ventured to fly high.
Intended inspiration wanted to reach the sky.
Weaving the web spiderman thirstily trying me to catch.
Escaping from them I ran, prevented myself from getting snatched.
Ohhh,They had a Hostile faction accord!
Nature's beauty aspiringly propelled me.
Blowing wind, tactily sensisizing my skin,
Blushing cheeks, spilled the bean.
Nocturnal creatures will wake in the dark,
Aerophilically dangling around the shruby bed,before they bark
Stopping by sayonara, continuing my next stigmatic destiny!
By Madhavi
It starts off high up in the sky
formed amidst clouds all inky
frozen solid in flakes all spiky
This frozen water falling slowly
some of it all wet and trickily
slowly it hardens so thirstily
More spikes come together
growing whiter and larger
shaping into a frosty layer
Star like now it spirals wildly
pausing a moment briefly
as it settles so blithely
Amidst a fluffy blanket
for all a shining trinket
laid in a white casket
And so the story is finished
with a flake so cherished
until oh so slowly it vanished
Always be true to yourself
One Lone Tin Soldier
From a darkened deathly dungeon room to a lighter part of day
Thirstily and hungrily all seemed to reach their long endless crusade,
And thus meandered with his child-master and ventured away
Still so full of honor and bound behind he had firmly stayed.
For he was known as One Tin Soldier, hidden in my attic and found
One lonely lone survivor who and which had happened so, so long ago,
Perhaps he was a held prisoner, all enclosed and initially and bound,
Held with the unknown barrier, then freed at last-thus be as though.
Onto another page and dilemma, he was left in a cold darkened cell
Which was locked behind a well hidden, vaulted cement doors,
To never be able to talk or even hear stories to read and tell,
Forever he is now home, lost and forgotten from the wasted wars.
One lonely lone survivor who and which happened so, so long ago
Perhaps he was held prisoner, all enclosed and initially and bound,
Held within the unknown barrier, then freed at last thus it maybe as though
For he was known as The One Lone Tin Soldier, which happened so very long ago.
Written: Nov. 10, 2015
Pardon my condor sensitivity,
but can I be
dead serious candid with you
Everybody look down on me,
and talk mean about me
But, in the future, they’re gonna need me
even nuclear more
I’m nature’s finest,
best garbage collector
My critter pals,
when they get their fill of wilderness lost you
They say to me: pick up the trash, will you please,
when we’re through
So I do what I do best ...
I pick the bones clean, rotting flesh and all
I devour the things other animals
don’t got the stomach for
Circling up above,
my telescopic olfactory senses
are searching downwind
I see some fool lost drug mules
thirstily water struggling in the wilderness
They’re slowly dying ... disoriented
since wandering out of the way
Now unbeknownst to them,
the desert will be their last score grave
Once they’re dead and baked,
I’m gon have me a good cadaver brownie cake
Those stashed hash mules done football kicked me good,
‘cause I’m flying high ... higher than before
Man, what an extra-point desert score!
After that sickly sweet rancid taste of victory,
I hear my coyote friends give a howl alert:
pick-up on
Death Valley off road tourist route,
cavern aisle four
But it’s too early for a lunch break,
way too rigor mortis early for me to be eating fresh meat
That poor adventurous soul was compass challenged,
and got sextant separated from the tour group
And he just pauper purchased an early expiration date,
but some things I just can’t bring myself to eat —
I hate fresh meat!
As for now, I’m waiting patiently,
perched on a craggy, desert mountain outcrop
Waiting hungrily ...
for that Big Mushroom feast in the sky
Until that special day arrive,
it’s the same ol’ mundane work routine
Garbage carcase collecting is a thankless job,
but somebody gotta do it ... ain’t that right?
Excuse me, Ms. Mountain Lioness,
can you hand me a rib cage toothpick
from that dead prairie dog
Just give me a cleanup call
when you’re through with the rest of it
The world is an egg waiting to be broken
Nothing bad should worth of a humble tears
Not even the pangs of loneliness as icy ball
Nor the fangs of self-pity as winter bears-
The tyrant was ask when he will end his torture
He told us that it is when the snake stand tall.
A dialogue of the drum we heard faraway,
It sounded not in the season of our songs,
With our head sleeping at five and twenty
and killing without a sword in a chicken story.
In the month of the falling leaves, they promised,
The pillar is fallen and the stars sob thirstily
But we see not one of their promises fulfilled.
To a passing year, we cradle in a cradling hands,
A disappointing voices welcome us home.
Who knows the rhythm of the season of a
Traditional conversationalist in Nkporoland?
Whose throat is honey to the ear like politicians?
Who savours the aroma of flavour of words if not those whose tongue are coated with sugar?
The day has woken from the night of sleep
And we've not seen our entitlement of the land!
Some even wear courage like a shield to fight
But their hands broken at the beginning.
He who has not seen the sea roars in the dark,
Let him go to sleep without his eyes closed.
When we shall start singing of lost and faults
Nigeria shall be our chorus to render to the world.
We've seen pain! We've seen pain and pains
Know us by the name given to us by our mothers.
You singer of royal songs, forget not we're brothers!
We will not only give legs to our coiling words,
we will also give them power to kill and destroy,
You have ended up poking your crooked finger
Into the hive of our mouth and we shall forget
Our words in your ears to tell you that your
Father never know how to uproot yam till he died.
We shall soon cook for you the food you can't finish.
Remember, we once shared the meatless meal here,
We passed from palm to palm our ego and dreams,
Why treat us thou after you climb the chair?
The sun has disappeared behind the tree of another
Year, yet, we've not seen the dust of your shirt!
You singer of royal songs, forget not we are brothers!
Remember, we once shared the meatless meal here.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
growth, nature, rain, seasons, summer, word play,
MIGHTY SUNFLOWERS © TANKA
Sunflowers in fields
Bowing to the rising sun
Turning faced upwards
Withholding their mighty stocks
As all roots knit asunder!
growth, nature, rain, seasons, summer, word play,
HARVESTING © TANKA
Rain drops call from clouds
Wet the now blackening soil
New roots drink thirstily
Crops now grow from planted seedlings
Harvest 'feed' aplenty!
Neglecting the sun-rays
She comes here each day
Approaches to see the rabbit hole,
Ignoring the fear of animals
As her swain once committed her,
He will come here to meet her again.
Flowers emaciated, Trees withered,
Following the cursed- strong storm;
Cascades are no more watering,
Still drought can’t lock her in,
Birds don’t fly now in this sky;
But rainbows reminds her of him
Counting the seven colors,
She knits her trance that
The prince will emerge yet again.
That day he came on unicorn,
While sleeping soundly on her mom’s lap,
A bouquet of flower, box of love candies,
He said, he loves and would love her forever;
Angelina, now knitting a sweater thinks...
What would match him more?
A maroon? No...Blue, nope it should be crimson
Hence their love is forever, yet a lot to endeavor,
Entering to the wood, she asks the woodcutter,
‘Have you seen my prince today?’
Negatively answers regularly the woodcutter,
But Angelina counts her days till the date.
The pitcher of her waist, she keeps with her
She thinks he (Prince) must be thirsting,
When the unicorn flies, thirstily the price almost dies,
But seldom has he got a moment to stop,
The well became dry; the time keeps on flying,
The prince never comes here to stop.
At last the pigeon comes, delivering the letter
The prince once died by the encounter.
I remember you, O Dinosaur-of-a-kind.
I remember you clearly.
On that fine, fine day;
That day of all our days, unnumbered in the multitude of your days, and lost in the melee of mine;
And through a kind of intoxicated haze,
I recall that fine and pleasant afternoon.
That fine and pleasant afternoon, which dragged on for a grateful me, as slowly as the tropical sun sinking into its warm bed far off over the distant kunai sea.
For there I stood among the banana trees that line our darling watering hole.
There I stood in the midst of a thirstily drowning throng;
There I stood at a place notorious in its time, but always favoured.
There I stood as you entered;
Entered,
With little pomp,
Little pageantry;
With little acknowledgement,
Little recognition;
Yet complete with your own dignity.
You entered as quietly as a mouse would enter a house after midnight, but with less such ambition;
As slowly as one of DH Lawrence’s slithering Lord of Life, but with less such venom;
Entered as a dinosaur might come unbidden, enormous yet hidden, famed yet unknown, celebrated yet unrecognizable and as invisible as the poet and as tremendous;
Entered that fated watering hole and into the sphere of my known universe.
*On meeting Papua New Guinea's greatest living poet and writer, Russel Soaba, at the Banana Club at Waigani suburb in Port Moresby.
All by myself, alone, I softly chant your name,
Own up for our defunct weeping bond and I take the blame.
It was our love very pure and not lusty lure,
Unsure, kaput and insecure I thirstily quest for love’s cure……
Cannot truly imagine that I let you go, I own up and take the blame,
But for us to be happy I did so, To silently blow off our love’s flame…..
My heart I am sure you did not know,
Was tattered and torn from the time I let you go,
I wish our bonds could have fondly stayed on,
Woven intertwined with emotions, enameled with love’s lacquerers firmly bound.
But I still take the blame,
Too late for me as this body I had lit and set aflame.
Till our laden guilt we overcame….
From above as my body burned,
Saw your woeful self as you wailed in lament and yearned
I take the blame.It is now too late, I take the blame
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...