Best Thraldom Poems
We have murdered morality and raped reality.
Every chicken wants to crow before they grow.
Our boys are hunters and our girls flaunters.
The future is forgotten and backwardness begotten.
Our fathers are scavengers and our youths avengers.
Our mothers are murderers and our wise men wanderers.
Character disorder is the new order.
The sun and stars sink as the whirlwind winks.
We have nabbed nature with our cruel culture.
I see the spurious spills from the hill of ills.
Listen echoes of errors and tantrums of terrors.
The king of the kingdom is on the throne of thraldom.
Workers of wisdom are sacked from stardom
because weed and wine make them famous and fine.
There is battle between civil right and moral rights.
Adam and Steve neglects beautiful Ada and Eve,
they are declared man and knife in a wedding without a wife.
Must we be lost at all cost?
Youths crave financial freedom and social stardom:
the making of mindless millionaires and brainless billionaires.
Real value is missing while ponzi plans are kissing.
Beautiful ladies are nude, bold boys are rude.
We view our naughty needs with the goggle of greed...
before the sun sets and life begins to regret
my pen will has a tale to tell like the jingling bell:
I see civil lies in our civil eyes.
To be continued...
Copyright 2017 Adeleke Adeite
Our prosperity lies not in the dead we celebrate
but in the lives we liberate and educate.
Our poverty lies not in the funds we lack
but in the giants who are slow and slack.
I see the stars sinking in the ocean of death
and fishes flying in the skies without breath...
Priority is imprisoned, confusion reigns,
the future is left in the pit of past pains.
Virtues vacated the villa of our vocabulary
dignity is denied a space in our dictionary.
Committees commune to commit crimes,
the common man faces terrible times...
Our terrains have been sold to terrorists,
our borders voraciously vomit tourists.
Western pests with logs in their eyes
are now the ones who seem to be wise...
Stealing of public funds is not corruption;
our best legacy is now road construction.
Those we call fools do not lack wisdom,
the wise among us rules in thraldom.
The poverty of a prosperous nation thrives...
When friuts do not allow seeds to survive.
Shall we stop fueling the greedy minority
and start feeding the needy majority.
Die Lorelei by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)- Translated by T. Wignesan
For Regina von Degenfeld at Waibstadt
-in respect and unending sufferance-
(Heine, a German Jewish lyrical and satiric poet, journalist and critic,
settled in Paris from 1831 where he married Eugénie Mirat, an unsophisticated shop-assistant which earned him ostracism and dispossession from his family and fellows, but he made her his only heir on the condition that she re-married so that at least one person would regret his passing. In 1858, he was hobbled for life by spinal paralysis.)
Ich weiss nicht , was soll es bedeuten,
Nonplussed am I, what could it signify
Dass ich so traurig bin;
Plunged as I am in such a dejected mood
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
A fairy tale from times gone by,
Dass kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
In thraldom wrapped forever to brood
Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Soft the cool wind buffets as the day beds down
Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein;
And ripple free courses the Rhein
Der Gïpfel des Berges funkelt
Mountain summit lights scintillate crown
Im Abendsonnenschein.
Divine in sunset shine
Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet
Exquisite maiden perched is she
Dort oben wunderbar,
On high there resplendent
Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
Her golden accoutrements sparkle free
Sie kämmt ihr goldnes Haar.
As golden tresses combs she concupiscente
Sie kämmt es mit goldnem Kamme,
Flaxen tresses combs she with a golden comb
Und singt ein Lied dabei;
While luring strains her lips release in lyrical glee
Das hat eine wundersame,
Tinged in a soothing tuneful hum
Gewaltige Melodie.
Mighty stirring melody
Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe
The rower in his narrow boat
Ergreift es mit wildem Weh;
Seized is he with bewildering pain
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe,
Oblivious is he of the Rock’s craggy grotte
Erschaut nur hinauf in die Höh’.
His eyes remain fixed high above the narrow main
Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
I believe the waves did submerge
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
In the end both boatman and rowing boat
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
And the deed did with her singing merge
Die Lorelei getan.
That Lorelei had wrought.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, January 23, 2021
THE RISK OF LOVE
It was a hostile land in those days, singing
Of our dream of a house, clinging
To something we could believe in,
Rooted in the soft rocks so that even
The breath of the earth itself was muffled.
Precarious, tenacious, cliff-edged -
Dwelling there for three score years of nights
And never a pause taking from its delights;
Never choosing to deny the thrill of waking,
Or surrendering our siren-held souls, or shaking
Off our thraldom. 'Twas the perfect foil
To the ever-present harshness and soil
Of the reality on solid ground.
...............................................................................
Written 11 th August 2014
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest...chosen theme is "Taking Risks"
You do not need the gods to be great,
feast not on the seeds of false fate.
Soar to the skies, sit at the shore of destiny,
tomorrow belongs to hope and harmony:
harmony of faith in the field of fears
and trust in the terrain of terrible tears.
Let us woo wisdom in a world of worries,
tommorow is a mansion of mysteries.
You do not need the gods to be great,
treasure each moment, tomorrow will wait.
Sit not on life's throne of thraldom,
we are slaves sold to the fold of freedom.
Bitter is the root of reality, taste the truth;
life will bow down to a dogged youth.
We do not need the gods to be great,
cowards are people without a common plate.
Where love is lost, life is imprisoned;
wars of woes will get salted and seasoned.
Look not behind, it is the hall of history,
before you lies the mountain of mystery.
Look not around, it is decked with distraction;
look within and plunge into the pool of passion.
The gods are dead,
they know not what lies ahead.
Ask not for rain when there are no seeds,
feed not your fate with dead deeds.
THE RISKS OF LOVE
It was a hostile land in those days, singing
Of our dream of a house, clinging
To something we could believe in,
Rooted in the soft rocks so that even
The breath of the earth itself was muffled.
Precarious, tenacious, cliff-edged -
Dwelling there for three score years of nights
And never a pause taking from its delights;
Never choosing to deny the thrill of waking,
Or surrendering our siren-held souls, or shaking
Off our thraldom. 'Twas the perfect foil
To the ever-present harshness and soil
Of the reality on solid ground.
She used to mean a world to me:
my soil, my sky, my sea,
she was my stay in trying times;
we did commit cool crimes.
Loving and learning what is right
and sometimes fighting all the night,
in freaky blast, our love did last;
she's now gone.
She used to mean a world to me:
the Sun and moon I always see,
she's always there all night and day,
we preen and play and pray.
Nothing compares to such a love,
daring and decent like a dove;
delightful dame in gainless game,
she's now gone.
She used to mean a world to me,
a friend faithful and free,
for her all words are not enough;
so tender, true and tough.
Describing her was a huge task,
but now I have questions to ask.
Is she a Doe, is she a Sow?
She's now gone.
She used to mean a world to me:
my butterfly, my bee;
her glow brightens my tomorrows,
her sting brought me sorrows.
The waves of wishes and wisdom
saved me from this thorny thraldom,
she suprised me, O I am free!
She's now gone.
Competition to me is a waste of time,
the clock and the calendar commit no crime.
Look into my eyes, I am the sparkling sun
looming up above to share the fluid of fun.
We are immortal spirits, immortal spirits.
Stand and stare, look here I am the moon,
the twilight bow; I am thy celestial boon.
Hear the splatter my dear, I am the rain.
Pouring down to drain the heat of your pain.
We are immortal spirits, immortal spirits.
I am the star swirling in swift brightness,
I shine the light for the one who lives in darkness;
And even if they come to pull me down,
A thousand more will take the courteous crown.
We are immortal spirits, immortal spirits.
Speak the truth; I will not bow to thraldom,
I sing aloud of the ancestors’ wisdom,
And even if they try to put me out
A million more will clear their doubt.
We are immortal spirits, immortal spirits.
He is the Lion of the tribe of his home;
his arrival makes everyone run and roam...
Tantrum and torments are the daily bread
with which he feed his family as the wicked head.
To his wailing wife, he is a bad bed-sinner;
his children dread him as the belt-winner.
Daddy's palour-seat is the throne of thraldom...
and his presence is the beginning of boredom.
Making financial request earns a death sentence...
everyone preen in the pomp of pure pretence.
Ask and he shall grumble, knock and get a slap...
even mom dare not take a quick afternnon nap.
Daddy is the commander in chief of the harm-forces;
the children's wrongs attract grave choices...
If you escape being detained for days;
you may have to feast on nothing but hays.
Horrible husbands have a spare tyre outside
who often feel they are better than his bride.
A tiger cannot change his soul and skin!
The fire of wickedness burns without within.
In a wave like motion, we began moving across the leaf.
We had travelled here together, hundreds in the belief,
That our lives would be safer after ten days of pupation.
We won’t be so tasty to birds once we go through transmutation.
Now we must each build a chrysalis, is our deed.
My six eyes focused on the leaf, for a while my last feed.
This will be the last time I molt my skin before I transform.
Inside my chrysalis I will change from a caterpillar to a higher form.
Finally the day of awakening our metamorphoses has related it essence.
I am free shorn of my ego-prison. I taste the deep air of omnipresence
The thraldom of being trapped in a caterpillar’s form
Emerging a beautiful butterfly, see my wings perform.
To realise I am an adult butterfly I feel quite torn.
An amazing transmutation I feel that I am reborn
The rugged race is not to
the swift
nor the bitter battle to
the strong,
within us lies a leverage,
a lift--
towering above the
thraldom of throngs.
Godliness plus
contentment breeds gain;
Laziness plus gluttony
concieves penury.
We are who we are, I
cannot explain
why the haughty forget
this in a hurry.
You cannot win the war
without a sword,
of what value is a spade
to a fisherman?
You cannot woo a
dame...without a word;
spoken or inscribed, you
realy need a plan.
Today is the future you
were expecting,
O, you are caught
unawares, I guess.
It will soon be a past you
will be reflecting...
worries cannot put ripe
Grapes in winepress.
Appreciation is an
application for more--
demand less, command
more O Oliver Twist!
Golden grains are stored
in this Lore...
sow those small seeds in
your tight fist.
You are who you are, O
skillful player,
good at winning the big
blame game.
Attitude cannot be
swapped for prayers,
shall we stop soiling the
Holy God's name?
The weakness of the weak
is not the strength of the strong...
and those who must get to the peak
must do something right or wrong.
The poverty of the poor...
is not the wealth of the wealthy
and those who sit on the floor
might be hale, hearty and healthy.
The trouble of the distressed
is not the peace of those at ease...
and those who are truly blessed
will make pride and prejudice cease.
Declear it from the rooftop
let it be clear to the darkest cloud...
Make the heart of men flip-flop,
let us rid our world of the proud.
I am the voice of righteousness
resounding the wispers of wisdom.
I am the hills of holiness
rescuing men from thorns of thraldom.
The rugged race is not to
the swift
nor the bitter battle to
the strong,
within us lies a leverage,
a lift--
towering above the
thraldom of throngs.
Godliness plus
contentment breeds gain;
Laziness plus gluttony
concieves penury.
We are who we are, I
cannot explain
why the haughty forget
this in a hurry.
You cannot win the war
without a sword,
of what value is a spade
to a fisherman?
You cannot woo a
dame...without a word;
spoken or inscribed, you
realy need a plan.
Today is the future you
were expecting,
O, you are caught
unawares, I guess.
It will soon be a past you
will be reflecting...
worries cannot put ripe
Grapes in winepress.
Appreciation is an
application for more--
demand less, command
more O Oliver Twist!
Golden grains are stored
in this Lore...
sow those small seeds in
your tight fist.
You are who you are, O
skillful player,
good at winning the big
blame game.
Attitude cannot be
swapped for prayers,
shall we stop soiling the
great God's name!
His words cut deep like a knife,
Last night, it was as if all the unknown of the world pressed upon her gloomy soul,
His last punches blasted her chin and as well blurred her vision
The love they once had deserted the shores of his heart,
Like the parting crimson glory of the ripening summer sun,
Oops! She was married to a monster in a warmest husband's clothes.
Little Joshua got off the blue school bus,
Looking so sad and depressed,
You see it on his dull face,
Mommy and Daddy have been fighting again,
The roar of the commotion rose to thunder,
He's caught in the middle of it all,
Studies meant nothing to him at the moment,
Thought shook through him in poignant pictures,
A definition of wild whirl of nameless regret.
He has dreams, like every little boy in the world,
But right now his main dream,
Is to talk sense into the father or see him disappear forever.
He was fed up with those angry voices,
And can't embrace with ardor the prospect of serene leisure,
Like he was caught in a frosty thraldom of winter,
A ton's weight of resolve upon his muscles were just far fetched.
The mother's choice didn't work out the way she thought it would,
Alone in the room ruled by a viper,
Memories were flashing like moving images,
She remembered when she held his hands in church,
The pastor read through the scriptures,
Putting words in her mouth,
Maybe what the pastor said was not something that was within him,
She was blinded by the glittery,
Now pains devours the walls of her mind,
Yet, she could not throw out phrases of ill-humor.
Little Joshua came back from school,
He goes up to his room devastated and broken,
There was no point complaining to anybody,
Because Dad's ears were blocked and Mom's heart was already bleeding in anguish.
It's late already,
"Go to bed Joshua"
Mom's voice subtly echoed,
And remember to pray for better days
There he prays for one thing;
God, will you make Daddy disappear forever?
But never knew that Mom still loves the Dad amidst the beatings,
He forgot one can only choose his friend, but cannot choose whom his biological father is.
He woke up in the morning and mom said to him,
Time heals when pain is love!!!
A Stewart Annie Everestus 's poem © 2019
Words flutters her firm
feathers and
flies to freedom,
she whirls in the wind of
wonders,
wielding wisdom,
her spirit swirls and soars
steadfastly to stardom,
without thrills, her theme,
thrust will be thrown into
thorns and thraldom.