Best Wail Poems
The sky becomes synonymous with grey,
signifying a storm is on its way.
And a sullied sun swiftly slips away;
allowing shadows to overcome day,
while clouds release a downpour straightaway.
Thunder echoes across purple-bruised skies,
as lightning causes drops to vaporize.
And ebony descends to claim its prize
while the whirling winds wail and Nature cries.
The treetops are tossed and swayed by each gust
as brisk breezes suddenly feel robust:
arriving swiftly; no time to adjust.
Broken by a murmured mantra of sound,
silence acquiesces as raindrops pound.
And pellets of ice get viciously hurled!
Everything falls in scattered disarray,
when twisters start to materialize.
Hail and rain meld into an icy crust
that turns the streets into a battleground
and neighborhoods into a netherworld.
Nature,
thou art so great.
The sun still shines so bright.
All alone I walk with the wind.
Trees line up on my way in robes of green.
From branches, birds trill joyous songs.
Breeze giggles among leaves.
I love you dear,
Nature.
The light,
will soon fade out.
Upon reaching back home,
the day would have bade its goodbye.
Alone I have to brood in deep silence.
It's depressing to be alone.
Most houses are lighted.
Sadly look on,
the light
I crave-
Crave for a time,
when a caring hand would,
hold me snug in love, on homebound,
cuddling me tight to warm my lonely bed.
The night is so dreadfully chill.
Birds are huddled in nests.
For company,
I crave.
July. 25. 2022
Submitted for Brian Strand Choice Poetry Contest
A young girl, aged no more than ten,
recently orphaned in an unjust war,
on tiptoe, reaching up to a crevice
to tuck in her crumbled prayer.
She had been taught that God by any name,
Allah or Elohim, would answer all prayers.
Hoping that God’s heavenly scales
would favour her unselfish plea
against those that may wish her kind ill,
she reached the crevice and tucked in her prayer.
No one noticed her hijab slip or heard the wall wail.
Amazing grace
Let the bagpipes play
While in blissful peace I lay
Beneath rolls of morning mist
Let bagpipes whine and wail
At the portal of my heart
Tugging at the gateway of my soul
Releasing timeless ageless tears
In supernal universal rhythm
As generations of kindred spirits
Swirl above the eerie misty morn
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 4, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
Wind wails the egress of a soul that departed to the unseen world and for a body that lies six feet under the ground until someday reunite with the loved ones in paradise or hades.
2-22-2016
raped, abused at six
a brutal life in sex trade
she now in Wail Street
Time will wail
As love trips away
And the sky won't stay
Time will wail
On the big ocean where seasons sail
And in words written in the grail
Time will wail
By the green oak so pale
By the fish without any scale
Time will wail
And the world won't say
And experiences will decay
Time will wail
In futures veil
And in the luxurious vain
Time will wail
For those who fail
And by the innocence of jail
Life will wail
On jeopardy's rail
On Doom's trail
Life will wail
And it won't wait
When the clock is tamed on a fox tail
Life will wail.
You are gagged and bound, seated
In a hot seat among the hard of hearing
Harrowing tales from the trenches
At the deep end of a ravenous beast
A narrowing outlook, hope fading
Shape shifting fiends on the cliffs of sleep
Captured drifts shaping up to squeeze
Harassed by the wail of the haunt
You cry within reach of eardrums
Albeit all wearing earplugs
Wallowing, itching skin turning sallow
You are reminded of the sordid detail
The devil in it too hard to swallow
You reckon it's the lunch in your throat
That crouching shifting restless toad
You are not alone but on your own
Roasting in the heat of your moaning
Voice within a crowd of voices making noises
Choir of soloists, yet never about choices
You were placed where you were placed
In a furnace of dreams from dusk till dawn
Never warned that you were in for the duration
La plainte au lever du jour pour les Morts – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Dawn Wail for the Dead” by T. Wignesan
(Note: The style of the original smacks of hurried note-taking, say, by an anthropologist or that of just a mere diary entry.)
Maintenant la lumière peu claire à l’aube
Désigne à peine les corps de ceux qui dorment au campement.
La vieille Lubra, la première à se réveiller, se souvient:
Le premier devoir au lever du jour
C’est de se souvenir des ancêtres, pleurer leur sort.
Doucement au début elle pousse des gémissements
Un après l’autre en se réveillant on l’entend,
On la joint dans la plainte, et l’entier campement
Pousse des gémissements pour les Morts
Partis d’ici vers l’Endroit Sans Lumière:
Eux ils restent présents dans la mémoire.
Puis le devoir est complet, maintenant commence la vie,
Les feux sont attisés, le rire se répend dès lors,
Et un nouveau jour les appelle à la tâche.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016.
When I stare at Bomba, coughing aloud outside
When Mwami and family, chewed swallowing thunderously
He glares most in somber, so as to get a guide
How to enter and nearly, they hear ignoring unanimously
As I listen from country man, scratching the bald to seek
While political men keep on, ballooning bellies to thinner the barns
They die in numbers malnourished, or stay to toil but weak
How to get least own, they hear but guards with guns
When I see a minister, in the holy cabinet lecture
That happy are the poor, like insurance collecting levies
While the beggar in sinister, collecting particles for nurture
How to grow on particles' tour, which can't quench deficiency
My appeal to all, that before any we want some
From anybody without care, but the strides after
All you need wall, and then you sound worm
After a glory so fair, your evil the starter
Stay the self like selves, for all are equal
The more equal are unsure, that day and night are sides
Of a rotation just a day, when stand in light focal
Never point fingers mature, and know they're just strides
At last I saw a pauper man, dig a huge hole most guarded
To throw the afterlife of, Mwami the former feaster
I bowed down to ban, my look not to get made'd
For when you jump a rope, it was be held upper
Carrying the fever and heat
of love’s first flame,
I set out on a journey
expectant and anxious,
sealed and tight lipped,
all emotions bottled.
From port to port I journeyed,
travelling in a little love vessel.
What a heavy cargo of dreams I carried
with the scent of memories perfumed.
Did a black cat cross my path?
Behind all veils of cloud,
hope lingered
My spirit…. pulsating inside.
My senses….
waiting for the moment of beatitude!
Skyward I flew
floating through the air
to land, finally in your trembling hands,
dreaming of a nameless delight,
bursting out at the earliest moment.
With my heart beats rising hoarse,
you slit my mouth,
pulled my soul out.
But,
gnarling at my face,
mercilessly you tore me into bits.
and threw me into the bin!!
In the Westerly wind,
slivers of me flew about like ghosts,
unable to get back to their graves.
After whirling naked in the gust of wind,
pieces of me fell down one by one,
to lie inert on the ground,
gasping for the final breath.
Did the firmament tattooed by stars
mock at my pitiable plight?
It's okay to cry now,
it's alright, because your baby is dead
You said you didn't mean to smother the child;
and the first baby, you said you accidently dropped on it's head
That's twice you've been clumsy with life
Yes, I believe you
because your tears are salty sincere
No, I don't believe you're a monster,
heredity just skipped over you when it passed out the maternal gene
Your life's been hell
since those two infants died
At night, you let out a long wail ---
your promise of being a mother is again denied
You had motherly dreams
of teaching them how to walk, how to talk
You had motherly desires
of watching your children grow like flowers,
and blossom into a better you
But you smothered one with careless love,
and in a momentary fit of frustration ... not hate ... you shook the baby,
and the tyke fell loose
All because the baby wouldn't stop crying,
but everyone one knows that's what babies do
It's okay to cry now,
it's alright, because your babies are dead
I guess I would be scared too,
if I thought I was cursed and going to hell
I think I would cry every night also,
having tortured dreams would make me scream a long wail
Up the hill upon a rickety stool
I watched afloat
With clouds of lonesomeness for company
The richest streams flow
From a source of dreams they come
The wails a song so rich, yet the reality of the source so poor
Oh! Oh! Destiny unfulfilled, regrets come to life
It is a clash of reality that was, reality that is and reality yet to be
Hope, the fight that is our nature faintly lingers
Can he go on? Where is his chance? Does it exist at all?
With a chest heave and a pinch of optimism, the stage is set for reality yet to be
With the strings of destiny for a guide
Tomorrow takes root in the present
It is not his chance, destiny repeats it’s self
Oh! Oh! Destiny is yet again unfulfilled
Regrets roots even deeper and the clash continues like it never was
An endless loop of dreams flowing as tears
For that is the controversial destiny of the majority living and hoping for a destiny of the minority
Onen Aaron
In my America
The government is elected
The people support the government
Representatives of the people would represent
Partisanship would be reserved for elections
Senators would not act as mine are acting now
New Orleans was flooded because of ineptitude
New Orleans mayor had five days notice
Louisiana’s governor had the same
Bush declared a national emergency before the disaster
Bush asked both to get the people out
My senators know these facts ignore them and blame Bush
In my America this would call for a special election
These senators should be replaced
Louisiana should hold special elections immediately
But in my America the twin towers would have been rebuilt by now
Dissension division second languages Black Pride active atheism
Support of ILLEGAL aliens voting prisoners Supreme Court Idiocy
What floor of this Tower of Babel are we on?
Who will lead us back to reason?
Times like these produced Hitler
What will Kennedy and Kerry produce?
Who can they blame for us to hate?
Hitler had gypsies Jews and non whites
What’s Kerry got? Red States?
“Ask not what this country can do for you”
In my America
People count
I’m counting the days
But what do I know about unity
I’m a Massachusetts Republican immigrant
In my America we had a UNITED States
People who hired illegal immigrants were criminals
My neighbors were Americans first
Not Afro Americans not Irish Americans
American Irish American Africans American Indians
American It means free
It carries a lot of responsibility
More than my senators seem to own
I am ashamed of my chosen country’s ineptitude
Overcome with disgust for terrorist rights activists
And extremely thankful to all dead and living enlisted patriots
God Restore American Freedom’s Fire In Timely Yore
As clouds gather to shed the earth,
amidst the rumbling thunder and lightning sparks,
you hear the cries of children’s wail.
When we tend to put the world we live on a scale, we’ll all find out we’re all pale.
We live our lives in vain, amidst it’s pain,
the gain, or blames…
But what is life without a name,
and what’s a name if without fame.
When we think too much we go insane,
just to make ends meet the pay we say.
We then find out life’s in disarray,
still hoping things may go our way.
When the wind whispers you’ll hear,
amidst the sea that struggles for the shores,
you hear the cries of children’s wail…