Best Twenty Eight Poems
My daughter's getting married
To a super guy called Tom,
It's really fast approaching,
It won't be very long.
The wedding dress is sorted,
The venue and the flowers,
The music and the fireworks,
But the cake, it took us hours.
We went to do some tasting,
Each sponge was quite divine,
Chocolate orange, vanilla
Pimms, coffee and praline.
The raspberry and the champagne
Made us salivate,
Strawberry and white chocolate
Tasted oh so great.
There was banana and spicy cinnamon,
Ginger and caramel,
All so gratifying,
Oh and Battenberg as well.
The carrot cake with walnuts
Was tasty as can be,
Rhubarb and rose petal
And one flavoured with green tea.
Piña colada with coconut
Like kisses on our lips,
Chocolate tiramisu
Oh the calories on our hips.
Odd flavours such as beetroot,
Pistachio and courgette
Were actually quite delightful,
A taste we won't forget.
Earl Grey with lavender,
Pumpkin with peanut butter,
Mouth-wateringly delectable
They got us all a flutter.
Chocolate fudge with peppermint,
Marshmallow and key lime,
Traditional dried fruit,
They were all sublime.
How could we make our choices
For a three tiered wedding cake,
We just couldn't do it
So we've gone for twenty-eight!
4th March 2017
Everyday
I get up at eight
With hope after hope
Live those lovely moments
Of Spring time mornings
To start a new mindful day
And leave:
The feeling of her eyelash movements in my mind
The fact of true passion emerging beside
The first letter of the word we have defined
And the freedom of our white clouds driven by wind
And at night, the first moment of every night,
I slip deep through the fragrance of my room
Without any will to light up another candle!
But today
I woke up too late
With hope against hope
Facing this heavy moment
Of an Autumnal morning
To end an old mindless day
And wait:
The feeling of her eye shadow reflections in my mind
The fact of true imaginations left behind
The last letter of a word we had declined
And a broken grey cloud driven by wind
And at night, the last moment of this night
I slip deep through the darkness of my room
Without any will to light up another candle!
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty-Eight
Other media meanwhile busy with who’s sleeping with whom
Relying on New-Sweep and Thyme to make loud front-page zoom
Mainly of those who leapfrog into top power palaces
On whether de Beauvoirs or transvestites be given more room
Dohr took dire toll on the High Prelate’s laboured vocal chords
And just as the Chief pow-wowed with advisors and legal boards
So did His Holiness with a delegation come from afar
The results as well as can be expected turned out: Discord!
The wily Franquist woman counselor slammed the Chief’s car door
And bee-lined the barred gates of the trysting hotel’s portico
The Chief sent Commandant in hot pursuit of bent-backed woman
Scarf drawn over pockmarked scalp limpet-mouthed suction sore
As the dohr throngful of the Faithful streamed out queues formed for asr
The Commandant waylaid the Imam come out for some air:
“…ad subjiciendum… Omar…Tent Maker’s prodigal heir…”
“Means thou Umar ibn Al-KHattap…Exalted Caliph Sire?”
Non-plussed the Commandant looked hard at Writ in his thick hands:
“Your Holiness! Be it thy pleasure to peruse these commands!”
One yea-sayer read aloud: “Oooo..maaaar ibn al-Khaaayyaaaamm…”
“Who? Must be that drunken half-Turk by rich widows favour finds!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
What shall I place
on page twenty-eight?
my loves, my goals, my sorrows?
I'm hoping through grace
my words (though not great)
will still ring true tomorrow
My soul flows again
from my diligent pen
and gathers my thoughts and emotions
setting in place a run-away pace
that clings to my truest devotion
For writing like this -
it's an absolute bliss
to share with the world my desires
So whatever I place
on page twenty-eight
it's with hope
that I've truly inspired
Twenty Eight
Twenty Eight Times
Twenty Eight Lies
Twenty Eight steps I slide down
I Had found love with a Special lady at club Twenty Eight
I Had offered her Twenty Dollars but she turned it down to only have
Twenty Eight shot of liquor pour into her mouth
Twenty Eight Times I knock on apartment Room 28 located at the corner of 2828 Dickerson St.
Twenty Eight
Twenty Eight Times
Twenty Eight Lies
Twenty Eight steps I slide down
It’s was very unfortunate situation I had called twenty times but only forward to the voicemail
Which turned into Twenty Eight text messages left unanswered
I asked her twenty Eight times just why ? She replied you are too nice kinda of guy
She was too fast she like jump from men to men like a trampoline
It’s funny this year I will turned 28
Twenty Eight
Twenty Eight Times
Twenty Eight Lies
Twenty Eight steps I slide down
Now I pick my face up from twenty eight free fall thank god I didn’t give that dancers all my money
Plaster full leg casts
protect your lovely young leg
even from itself
Mom was only twenty-eight when she moved in this house in 1977,
And she lived here until she moved to Sneedville, Tennessee in 2011.
Mom was beautiful at twenty-eight and she was still beautiful at sixty-four.
She would still be beautiful today but sadly, she isn't with us anymore.
When I was growing up, mom was a stay-at-home mom and that made me glad.
She devoted her time to her family instead of a job and that might make feminists mad.
But I'm happy that she was a homemaker because I was able to spend more time with her.
If I'm asked to give Mom a rating on a scale of one to ten, a ten is what I'll be proud to give her.
[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away at the age of 64 on March 6, 2013.]
Twenty eight years – oh my
So fast - they do go
From the sweet young girl I first met
To the beautiful women I now know
It just keeps getting better
Like wine – it refines
It deepens the meaning
Great things come - all in due time
Commencement – a new journey
Another stepping of a stone
New chapter – love story
Our life – rich – what a beautiful flow
Our little girl – now - moving on
Our son – what a young man
You and I together
The next stage in life – seems to be part of a divine plan
Amor fati – Latin – for the love of one’s fate
You are inseparable from my story
In fact
You are my story – wow - isn’t that great!
Enriched - knowing where we are
It’s an amalgamation of all that we do
Twenty eight years together
I look forward – to spending the rest of my life - with you
Everything is out in the open no matter how I try to dress
it, I'm on my Adam & Eve my sins are naked so I felt as
tho I address it we all got sloppy seconds everything
nowadays is recycled, we claim we worship one God but
in America our idols look like Whitney & Micheal. And it
seems my spiritual background scares these women off,
but I removed the mask like Travolta and cage I took my
face off, this is what you wanted right? A man who's
honest passionate and open, faithful caring independent
outspoken I can't tell, but oh well maybe I serve a greater
purpose it looks like I'm destined to lead by example but
my actions say I'm selfish, you shouldn't be so open
about yourself, especially looking @ my past and the ones
I chose made my heart melt, note to self the person who
you want me to be is already taken, and almost no one
gets to be with their #1 draft pick but its evident I'm
someones favorite, I'm far from perfect but try as might
to find the perfect one for me I try to buy em with my
heart but they keep foreclosing I see...
Mental illness did not find its healing on earth
—10/31/2021 RIP
Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy…
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
—Isaiah 35: 6 & 7 (portions)
DEATH COMES AT TWENTY EIGHT
Like the raven wrapped in black
Full-throttle wings above the door
Ready to drop the axe, tie the sack
A sealed body of wax on the floor
Ventriloquist sourced voice to the cattle
Knowing he won’t make it out alive
Anxiety, his society, a boombox battle
Seasoned by inner voices that thrive
Shower of baptism; but in relief he’d stagger
Family and friends anchor to keep him here
He loved them but embraced his dagger
Digging deep into the shadows and tears
Last leaves of October sprawled in mourning
Dawn and dusk calls on the same tenth month
Songwriter’s rap label came with a warning
A ten year catapult - his demons’ death
As the Lord received his son, the voices seethe
He accepted a savior, on whose bough he leans
This newborn dunked in his grave, rising to breathe
God remembers the year two-thousand seventeen
11/23/2021
My February birthday,
A day born into this world,
Never knowing how it'd turn out,
Like the flag of life unfurled,
Love's fate been fickle,
As to many of us,
I am sure
But carry on we must,
It's God's will that we must endure
But the highest high,
Better than drugs or love,
The Lord blessed me,
With times given from above,
To play with my friends,
In total ecstasy,
Only another musician would know,
Only a musician could see
The inner and outer goosebumps,
I got playing "Morning Dew"
If I live to be twenty-eight hundred,
I will still swear to you,
Those highs so high,
Those moments so sweet
Twenty-eight angels,
Could not compete,
And here again, Mark T shines bright,
As he brought to my home,
Such musical delight...
Sadly those days are gone,
As is my buddy,
Yet he lives on,
In sweet memories of music
Of yesterday,
Thank God I have tapes,
That I can still play
See death's barrier is brief,
We all reunite someday
down the road,
And knowledge of this,
Helps me carry my load.
Your steps so measured, soft and slow,
Through Irish streets where neon glows,
While I match pace, half-step behind,
Your gentle rhythm fills my mind.
Tomorrow brings your twenty-eight,
As Newbridge glows through Darragh's rain,
Like Naevis' light through darkened skies,
Where æ-dreams dance and harmonize.
Sweet Mary Grace, my Savage star,
From Milner Square to Kildare far,
Your spirit bridges every space,
My anchor home, my Mary Grace.
-
We plunder precious planet at a pace.
Now seems we’re showing some signs of regret
As ill effects now hit us in the face?
But still our need for more land must be met,
Thus wildlife we continue to displace
When their age old habitats we target.
Now we go on depriving them of land
So that our billions further expand.
We see ourselves as Master of Nature,
So she is there to serve our every need,
To be our slave for present and future.
Perhaps our need we should admit is greed.
Am I painting a worrying picture
As our mean ways now make this planet bleed?
How long can our clever ways dominate
And what will come after COP twenty eight.
Cancer at Twenty-Eight
(alive at Eighty)
Written: by Miracle Man
8/29/2019
A diagnosis of Cancer,
Had me at life’s turning point.
I sought the face of Jesus,
Believing He’d anoint.
All I saw were steep odds,
Stacked against my person.
And without divine help,
My situation would worsen.
I sought forgiveness for sin,
And was no longer a scorner.
Then God delivered me,
From a hopeless corner.
A loving God could foresee,
What was about to transpire.
That day, out of love,
He’d set my fields on fire.
Is twenty-eight cats extensive? She asked.
We dared not speak to our Mama Masked.
She has lots of money, and no dependents yet.
If she dies, the ones who please her will be totally set.
Oh, not, I lied. Twenty-eight is not enough.
The next time I visited she had a new cat, Stuff.
They were soon joined by Twixt, Trouble and Twee.
I was beyond allergic, sneezing from my nose to my knee.
I have thirty-six kitties now, what do you think?
My face was all red, my nose was bright pink.
Surely you could bring in another two or three.
I gave her what she wanted at the expense of me.