Best Villager Poems


Dandelion

In a field that is claimed to be wasteland 
only fed by the sun and the rain;
its dotted with a sprinkling of yellow
amongst the wild grasses again.

And the manicured lawns of the village
with the roses pruned into shape
will never be found in the wasteland
and don’t have the will to escape.

There’s a man who tenders this wasteland
and the villagers all disagreed
when he argued a case for himself
that the dandelion is not a weed.

Yes, dandelion is a humble herb
that provides us with salad and tea
it has flowers that mirror the sun
and draws in the wild honey bee.

When plants are missed in the harvest
or left for a season to grow 
there is cotton like seed parachutes
drifting off as if dandelion snow.

If a parachute lands in a garden
and finally sprouts from its seed
not a villager can be convinced
that the dandelion is not a weed.

Yes, dandelion is a humble herb
that provides us with salad and tea
it has flowers that mirror the sun
and draws in the wild honey bee.

Being rich in mineral content
essential oils, and vitamins too
dandelion is kind to our bodies
a healer growing free to pursue.

As I reap my crop in the wasteland, 
and only  dig up what I do need
I’m happy I don’t need convincing
that the dandelion is not a weed.

Premium Member Lost and Found 1


Someone help me please, 
I feel so lost,
The snow is deep, 
The streets are dark,
Unfriendly people 
Come at a cost,
I left my red scarf 
As a mark,
It’s gone,
But so sleepy, thought,
I’d have a nap,
Last I remember,
Is my yawn!
Has been a busy night, 
Santa and Rudolph 
Will miss me,
To make sure, 
Will tie my
Shoe around this snow
Adorned acorn tree!
Only a short snooze, 
For I fear and dread,
To be left behind,
What would lay
For me ahead?
A villager passing from 
A nearby farm,
Heard my sleepy voice
And from beneath 
A pile of snow 
Saw my blue sleeved arm,
And one tiny 
Shoeless foot,
Half frozen,
The man knew 
He had no choice,
But to awaken me,
For I’d surely freeze,
If left there, 
In this bitter breeze!
A hot glass of milk, 
A buttered bun,
Sounded to me, 
To be a lot more fun!
I’m lost, sadly sang the elf,
Santa and Rudolph
And the gang,
Must have taken off,
I fear to see a 
Wolf with fang,
What should I do, 
Will you help me?
Address North Pole 
Is all I know!
Villager and elf walked on
Hand in hand,
Leaving footsteps in the
Fluffy snow like sand, 
The stranger seemed
So kind,
Was this villager 
Assigned?
Of course he was, 
And with a spin
And whirl we found 
Distraught Santa,
Inside his house 
Beside his spouse,
Address, North Pole!
A miracle Santa declared,
And looked around
But there was no one there!

The Last Acorn

 She is a deep feet                 
She has beaten to drown many she               feeds
Her face is a black green                                               skin 
she waves her tail large the size of her                           teeth                                              
Her hungry is a mystery.                                                          kill
 Her fangs cold like an adder's venom                                   sting
She is a regurgitating                                                             beast 
chews her cods                                                                  slowly
raises her prey up down up again and down then up 
the third time and                                                      finally 
swallows after some days in her                     deep
she vomit it prey stiff,                                    stilled,                   
many  forgotten souls lie beneath her.      deep 
The villagers chant songs and  wail.      deep
Like a hawk she dives                          prickly 
On its prey at a glance                 sweeps
Like cyclone and               steals 
At the                   brink 
of her     teeth
Another villager
                              she 
                                            drinks
who gone to be with the river. Last man of his clan, last fishermen of his age mate, only surviving son of late chief only to be seen again days on top of her black green skin, stilled eyes pop out white .River Ethiope is a beast She never get filled





7/5/2020


Sound the Drums

We have always been careful,
Avoiding conflict,
Shunning hostility,
Confronting squabble,
But none of us were prepared when the elders called:
“Sound the drums!”
Discord erupted,
No one was certain of what to do, 
So we scrambled to the dusted weapons our ancestors had left for us,
“Those are for warriors!” a villager cried,
“Not for simple minded farmers and shepherds like us!”
But still we fought.
Through the battle,
The chaos,
The endeavor.
Some ran,
Some ran far,
Far away.
Many were lost,
Many forgotten,
And the ones who ran remembered,
When they called:
“Sound the drums.”
© Kate Cox  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Galloping Gingerbread Boy

I am chasing a galloping gingerbread, and the little old man and the
Little old woman and a rake and a fork and a spoon are helping me
When another villager begins yelling at the top of his musical scale,
“Christmas is here! Christmas is here!”

My eyes pop open. I am disoriented, not knowing where I am at first.
The galloping gingerbread cookie has turned into a galloping real-live-boy!
I must have fallen asleep on the couch, after sitting down for just a minute.
Three children in the form of sixteen battalion of horses 

Hit those stairs like percussion instruments.
They have discovered that Santa left half of a frosted cookie.
Two are screaming while the oldest one devours it.

My husband plods in from the kitchen and smarter than Nero,
Forks over a chocolate-milked, double sugared, coffee. My hero!
I see you got finished, He says to me, the wrapping-present-queen
I nod. I was going to just sit down a second, before I came to bed.

He smiles, knowing how fast sometimes the energizer bunny 
falls down in total exhaustion mode, in the form of his honey.
Max throws himself into my arms, warm pajamas and all.
A galloping gingerbread cookie, in the form of a live doll!

Written 11-30-2018  Contest:  Christmas Cheer  Sponsor:  Kim Rodrigues

Twisted Fairy Wings

Hey, what's your number?....,
.....,I'll call you.

Anyways, here's my story,.....

Twice down off the steps, I fell
cause of my flyer mileages
in a two fars, one near, four rights
then touch your nose, place.

Lived, a wise ass owl
in a town called Whoville
near the mooning cow
were spoon and fork
pitched a business plan
to go missionary.

One day, Jack and Gretel
asked a Who villager
where is Hansel and Jill?
the villager said, "Who?"

Kinda, sort of like
the dish orbiting away from the satellite
big red made it the to neighborhood
in a Jesus Chrysler convertible
with gum stuck on the bottom.

Also, Humpty Dumpty is actually
an ostrich that hasn't hatched yet
the piper packed some sea shells
Granny goose huffed and puffed
ginger taste like garlic bread
and Miss Piggy stayed in bed
because Kermit the frog
never made it back from china.

Can a mustard say,.....
.....,more ketchup, please?

On Rudolph, to the next,.....

Jack and Gretel found the inn
made their way to the lobby
we're they saw the owl
smoking worms
and sipping tree sap.

They asked the owl
where is Hansel and Jill?
the owl said, "Who who, whoopee do....,
they rented room and you should, too!"

There's no such thing as fairies.
© Marc Tabet  Create an image from this poem.


My Village

The thought of my village makes me  nostalgic
Memorable days spent over there were unique

Anchored in a cool and serene environment
It is exuberant with pleasure and entertainment

Rising early in the morning to breathe the fresh air
Arouses consciousness in the villager about health care

Chirping of birds are pleasant to hear
As they enchant the ear

Embellished with flowers and greenery
Which project a lively and beautiful scenery

On a fertile land which is very suitable
To produce one's own vegetables

With the dawn singing of the cock
There is no need for the clock

In the town everywhere it is so loud
But my village is far from the madding crowd

A locality where every neighbour knows each other
Ever ready to help without expecting any offer

Reminiscent of my friends and school days
My village transcends me to my heyday

With the outbreak of jealousy and sorcery
I was obliged to part urgently

Now my only  wish is to  return in your bosom
Ah! miss you since you are my kingdom!

Wherever I Stand It Will Be My Holy Land

Wherever I stand,
It will be my holy land!
Wherever I stand,
It will be my holy land,
Listen to what I say,
And read my lips Friend!
The world has dramatically changed,
And became difficult to re-fix or amend!
The world of double B, Bush and Blair,
The just, the right became wrong and unfair,
But who would question it now or care?
This reminds of the first boar,
Their entire war machine,
And camel's **** and sand, 
For what?
For a Bedouin, who can neither read? 
Nor understand,
The ethos of civilised manners,
Of what was once the Arabian nights' land?
Now, if you are referring to tyranny,
I can feed you with a torrent of tyrants,
In the age of globalised plenty,
These are many here and there starting from you,
From where it all began,
From where you are now dictating and 
From where you right now stand!
Uncle Sam made a partnership pact with Arabian Sheikhs,
And suddenly these unholy duos call each other ally and friend!
If you are after a might destruction,
Here you have Iraq, Libya, 
And now Syria and Yemen,
Difficult to re-fix, or to amend,
And Afghanistan long before them,
Suffered, fell down to its knees and 
Sunk into the bloody sand!
My brothers are not biological anymore,
My brothers are not genuine like before,
My true brothers are now those who stand 
By me, firm and denounce, protest,
And shout hands in hand!
For peace, justice solidarity that may blend,
Into one world motto and convey the message
The mighty message, to the tribesmen, 
The villager, the perceived enemy
And the friend!

Premium Member LOST AND FOUND

I’m lost, the snow’s so deep, red scarf left as a mark, but gone,
I need to nap, a busy night, Santa and Rudolph will miss me
Sleep, I must sleep, so tie my shoe around a tree with thorn,
Must prepare for dread, for what lies ahead, a villager passing heard
My sleepy voice, and from beneath a steep pile of snow peeped out
A blue sleeved arm and shoe-less foot, so he awakened me,
I would freeze in this bitter breeze, a hot glass of milk is
What you need, the stranger said, so tearfully I did explain,
I feared a wolf with fang, poor tired Santa forgot to head count, 
Please help, all I know is address North Pole, so elf and stranger
Walked hand in hand, leaving footprints in the snow like sand, 
Was this stranger assigned, of course we know he was, with speedy swirl, 
Found themselves in Santa’s house, beside his spouse, address North Pole. 
A miracle Santa declared and looked around, but no-one was there!





Competition Entry: Footprints
Dated: 02/05/2021
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire

The Wise Villager

The Wise Villager
A villager got atop a tall tree
And couldn't get down
He shouted for help 
and villagers soon arrived
They looked at each other and asked
'does anyone know how to get him down'
'I know the way' remarked one
'Get a rope and throw it to him
in the tree and ask him to tie it around him''
The villagers were glad at the hint 
and proceeded accordingly
when the villager atop the tree came down
they went to pick him up 
'Oh my God! he's dead', they screamed
and looked angrily at the wise guy 
who had suggested them the method 
to get the poor hung up villager down
'Not my fault, friends'', responded the wise one
'Whenever someone fell in the well
I pulled him out the same way
and he was always Alive!''
by mazHur

Feather of Death

Mutuma was alone in the forest,
busy piling up his beans harvest
in his favorite sisal basket.

As he was about to lift his basket,
a feather from nowhere fell
on his basket, with a soft
landing. He could tell
that this was a strange event.

“How can this be?!” he asked himself.
The forest was not an abode for birds,
especially the ones that had blue, as a chief
color! “I’ll become mad!”

Before he could run away from this mystery,
an elf appeared right in front of him!
“Don’t be afraid. I have great secrets and mastery
of all world languages,” the elf told him.

Mutuma was told if he called out a person’s name
and dropped the feather, the person would die by sunrise!
“Maybe it is my destiny to tame
my fellow villagers of all the evil that they have absorbed
in their way of living, like white cotton in dye,”
the boy thought.

As the Sun set, Mutuma called each name he felt
carried deceit, malice, hatred, gossip, and many other vomit
of the Evil One. Exhausted from calling out names,
and bending to pick up the feather,
Mutuma returned to his village, and slept in his hut.

When the Sun later woke up, the boy noticed 
something strange. His village was as silent as a dry well!

When he visited his parents’ hut,
tears and guilt welled in his heart.
His knees became so weak, that
he knelt on the ground.
Some villagers lay lifeless outside their huts!
All the elders sat breathless around their fireplace!

“You could have refused my offer when you had the chance,”
Mutuma heard a whisper. It was the elf’s voice!
“I am sure that now you are aware of the feather’s power. It drifts
in thin air, but brings down thousands and thousands of people!”
“You should also have known by now that everyone, including you,
has some evil in his or her heart”…..

The poor boy was appalled when he later learnt that the elf
had conspired to kill every villager around him,
so that he could be the destined possessor of the feather.

“Immortality will be your blessing;
loneliness will be your curse,” the elf
once again whispered to him.

Halloween Jokes

I. There was a zombie gentleman walking down in a valley and he turned to the child and asks, "Why did a vampire climbed the mountain?"
The child says, "I do not know. Why?"
He replied, "To get to the very top to shine up!"

II. a. The children came to the door and they banged on the door. "Knock, knock".
The man says, "Who's there?"
The first child replied, "Zombie."
The man says, "Zombie who?"
And the child replied, "Zombie home? Get out of here, you can't stay here!"
b. The second knocked on the door. "Knock, Knock."
The man says, "Who's there?"
The child replied, "Ghost."
The man says, "Ghost who?"
The child replied, "Ghost there? Get out of my house!"
c. The third child banged on the door. "Knock, knock."
The man says, "Who's there?"
The child replies, "Beast."
The man says, "Beast who?"
The child replies, "Beast there or be square!"

III. The Frankenstein's Monster walked downtown and then he turned to a villager and says, "What did the werewolf say to the sky?"
The villager says, "I don't know. What did he say?"
And the Monster replies, "Beware the mooooooon!!"

The Witch Hunter.

let every old woman with a wrinkled face,
she should be aware,she lives in disgrace,
a furrowed brow,hairy lip and single tooth,
know me well,i'll get the truth.
a squinty eye and scolding tongue,
the squeaky voice she's had from very young,
you will never hide from me,
i'm the witch hunter general you see.
my name shall be feared throughout this land,
my hunting of witches will go as planned,
first you'll be tossed into a cell,
stripped naked and starved,until you tell.
i'll start to prick to cause you pain,
and i'll do it over and over again,
then you'll be bound to stool or table,
cross legged of course,even if you're not able.
after twenty four hours the cramps will set in,
again poked and prodded,but i'll use a new pin,
you'll then walk the stones til your feet bleed,
still i reckon you don't get to feed.
then you're taken for a swim in the lake,
your baptism water you didn't take,
if you're innocent you will drowned,
but if you sink a true witch i've found.
this cruelty wasn't enough,mathew got no kicks,
a new style was developed,it only took two ticks,
he bent victims double,tied thumb to big toe,
a rope round the waist,in the water they'd go.
these people were worn down by his torturous way,
but hopkins was going to have his say,
one question he used in the brow beating session,
you're aquainted with the devil,i want a confession.
a nod or monosyllabic reply will do the trick,
or my man will beat you again with the stick,
then poor john lowes,a suffolk minister of note,
was told you're a witch,i can tell by your coat,
a quarrelsome gent of seventy was poor john,
disliked by many,they wanted him gone,
hopkins took the task to prove he was right,
john was kept awake for many a day and a night.
they ran him till he was out of breath,
he was weary, and scared half to death,
so he confessed to get some peace,
then the torturous pain would cease.
hopkins said"another one i didn't let survive",
john went to the scaffold august 1645,
no cleargy would read for him at his grave,
a villager said"to the devil john was no slave".
who knows how many poor sould were lost,
letting hopkins rule,had it's own cost,
more than 200 people this way met their fate,
by the time hopkins hit norfolk,it was too late.
his trials of blood passed through our countryside,
in his work mathew  hopkins took great pride.

Innocent Victim

The wind bellowed from the west
This young boy joined the rest
Without realizing what they are up to? 
Followed them blindly just for fun

Poor fools were out to agitate
This boy thought they were out 
On a picnic with banners in hand
And shouting the slogans, they are singing a new song.

In his naivety, he kept walking
Then suddenly something happened
And started a violent battle
And stones came out from their "Jholas"

Before the boy could realize what is happening
A hand came out, giving a stone to him
And with them all, he also threw the stone
Without knowing who he is hitting

When his attempt was greeted by tear gas
He thought it was another playful act
Yet it continued for hours and hours
The boy waited for this scene to end

From nowhere came a bullet straight
Hit the boy on his head and his body
Scrunched in a corner of iron bench
A pool of blood got clot beneath

His life ended like a playful joke
Nobody came forward to claim his body
He was naïve villager who came to the city
Then suddenly the drama unfolded

Came forward a mob motioning silently
Kneeled down and began a mock crying
To me they appeared some street entertainers
They showed crying faces for a photo session

The government announced a committee to investigate
God only knows what will be the outcome
Meaning of life I learned from there
Think twice before joining anywhere.

The Day the Drum Died

The Day the Drum Died/Dedicated to The Watts Drum Circle


It's festival time!...Congeros!...Timbaleros!...Same place same time
The Villager Caller is on the scene looking and waiting to do his thing
Start with a calypso rhythm...tap... tap...tap..tap...tap...tap...
One arrives with nothing but his pride
Another one comes with no drum...Then another but his ego won't let him 
inside
The sacred drum circle in Watts once thrived...Every drum every color and 
size...
Tumbas...Quintos...Djembes and Talking Drums too!!
What caused all this creative energy to subside? 
Why slap these drums anyway?
This is a legacy of our African Ancestors
A commemoration of 1965 when Molotov cocktails flew by
Not Mongo! Not Berretto!...Get real and get down...
Otherwise, the generation to come will remember us and sing a sad song 
called...The Day the Drum Died

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