Best Wailers Poems
Whining wailers never know when,
opportune moments ever begin.
An angry man hath his eyes closed,
not a bit of triumph ever he knows.
I smile and nod my gratitude,
to vets in wheelchairs "in their fortitude"
down syndrome children‘s, little aptitude,
courage, in the plight of such magnitudes.
Gratitude begets beatitudes.
Gratefully I recharge my attitude.
I smile when in conflict, I am stewed,
a notion of locomotion, in attitude.
I smile and rejoice in summer’s breeze.
I drink noble coffee in a winter’s freeze.
My conscience is clear I am at peace,
watching each fall the geese fly east.
Gratitude begets these beatitudes.
in diligence, I secure my attitude.
In smiles each day my life is renewed,
by love’s theory of moving subdued.
I praise in amaze on a rainy day,
every mud puddle in which children play,
I love their laughter and frolic, quite gay.
"Gratitude doth beget it's master’s pay."
Categories:
wailers, peace, smile,
Form:
Rhyme
Do you have: "That Summer Feelin"
- by Jonathan Richman (1984)
Finally: "School's Out for Summer"
- by Alice Cooper (1972)
Yes, : "Sun is Shining"
- by Bob Marley and the Wailers (1971)
Because: "Everybody Loves the Sunshine"
- by Roy Ayers (1976)
You can ride on: "Heat Wave"
- by Martha and the Vandellas (1963)
Give you a sense of: "King of the Beach"
- by Wavves (2010)
Maybe you already: "Dancing in the Street"
- by Martha and the Vandellas (1964)
Feel it: "Good Vibrations"
- by Beach Boys (1966)
Magical ... : "Summer Nights"
- by John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John
A good advice in the end: "Take It Easy"
- by the Eagles (1972)
But, enjoy your summer vacation
25.06.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Categories:
wailers, blessing, song, summer,
Form:
Free verse
2015: WE ARE SURVIVORS
Enemies thought 2015 won’t be our YEAR
They opined that our progress won’t be NEAR
They said among our peers, we would be REAR
Maliciously they instilled in us a kind of FEAR
Even our goodwill and image, enemies did SMEAR
But our God was awesome and brought us CLEAR
In January, enemies waged war against our HEALTH
In June, they now came and attacked our WEALTH
We heard the evil ones have a COMMONWEALTH
They waged the war, unknown to us, in STEALTH
The evil people hid their drawn swords in SHEATH
But Our God did not allow us lose our BREATH
On this last day, we have shown we are SURVIVORS
The holy book says “we are more than CONQUERORS”
In the new year 2016, we shall continue to be VICTORS
To our foes and wailers, we shall be their RAPTORS
The anointing for breakthrough shall, in us, ABIDE
In the presence of the most High, we shall RESIDE
© Wole Popoola December 2015
Categories:
wailers, adventure, africa, anniversary, anxiety,
Form:
Rhyme
I-95
“Ya got the horse race
Ya got the dog race
Ya got the human race —
But this is a ratrace”
~ Bob Marley and the Wailers, “Ratrace” from the album Rastaman Vibration (1976)
Across Boynton Beach ran a popular road known as Gateway Boulevard.
Commuting to work on it each weekday morning the traffic moved like lard
Cruising past Motorola, eastbound vehicles mostly went single-file
In the right lane starting at Congress Avenue, dragging through all the half-mile
Along Quantum Boulevard and High Ridge Road, where long stoplights delayed the dull drive
Until the right turn to the onramp that dropped to the highway called I-95.
We’re getting on I-95, in line, we’re getting on I-95
The road never ends but as long as we’re friends we’re all getting on I-95.
Florida drivers were cool and unhurried; some surely could be terribly slow.
Old codgers wearing old hats had no clue they impeded the old traffic flow.
I’d blow past all of them, taking the left lane; I most every day made the pole
Up at the High Ridge Road light. Once it turned, I’d just kick it in and quickly roll
Forward, ahead of the slouch to my right, so that at the onramp I’d arrive
Long past the long line of travelers waiting to turn onto I-95.
We’re getting on I-95, my friends, we’re getting on I-95
It makes us feel proud to be part of the crowd all for getting on I-95.
In the South Bay there’s no waste of a chance to exploit the available lanes.
Drivers move quickly to block one another from realizing possible gains
That may have been realized, had lane-changing tactics let somebody else take the lead,
Yet for all that I have nothing to say of this crowd in its ruthless stampede
Than that it’s just like that past Florida crowd in the sense that it’s no more alive
In any real way, whether faster or meaner, than those back on I-95.
You’re getting on I-95, old crew, you’re getting on I-95
All throughout life, in each gladness and strife, you’re just getting on I-95.
~ Thanks Always Returns
Categories:
wailers, america, humorous, nature, psychological,
Form:
Verse
Did you ever Roberto Nesto … the reggae maestro
Decorating rocks in the ghetto … children’s falsetto
Rising for liberation from tenures of poverty
Logwood lit from the shredded ash of ganja smoke
Rising to rinse the heart of woe … the clarity
Of things about his ragged ghetto … father broke
Love pregnant on cornmeal porridge … don’t cry
O woman, don’t cry, memory in music exploding
And now the world will dance to marijuana high
Dreams rocking, shooting, looting the tenors meaning
We were left nothing, now watching mainstream sings
Tributes to us for gifts of culture and the game:
The balladeer circles the sun on broken wings
Oh he made melodies out of the ghetto’s shame.
(Sorry folks, I could not resist the temptation, the rebel I am, to explode High cultural
traditions and provide a door for the people to celebrate from street and ghetto their own -
since none of the classical masters means anything in the pop world. Robert "Bob" Nesta
Marley OM ... February 6, 1945 – May 11, 1981 ... was a Jamaican singer-songwriter and
musician. He was the lead singer, songwriter and guitarist for the ska, rocksteady and
reggae bands: The Wailers (1964 – 1974) and Bob Marley & the Wailers (1974 – 1981).
Marley remains the most widely known and revered performer of reggae music, and is
credited for helping spread Jamaican music to the worldwide audience. "No Woman Nuh Cry"
is rated a classic by many musicologists.)
Categories:
wailers, artmusic, music,
Form:
Verse
I had so much fun to be with you!
You were wearing shirts in all color blue.
We threw crumpled paper like we’re six graders,
We ran and shouted like those elephant wailers.
Remembering 18th when we played those wooden chairs?
We grabbed white candies and buckled upstairs.
With your crazy dance moves over a yellowish folded paper,
You grouped yourselves absurdly like those itchy black scrapers.
You moved insanely with a green tomato on your face,
We sang together though we were so out of our pace.
We ate and chatted like it’s going to be our last.
Time was though unfair because it was ever too fast.
I’ll treasure that day because it was the best,
Our Christmas was dear compare to the rest.
Remember 18 because it was a magical scene,
Our greatest happiness is a treasure unseen.
Categories:
wailers, christmas, friendship, funny, giggle,
Form:
As mini-bus taxis fly by left
In the entrepreneur’s lane, yellow
Victims bereft
The grief of the loss
Mere smelter’s dross
As a new world is crafted
From cracked pot-shards
The wailers at the service
Ululate the grief
As passers-by watch and cry
In disbelief
The antics of the few
In control
Controlled by none
Above the law
Lawists
As a racist sees superiority
(An assumption wrong)
A lawist acts superiority
As superior
Is above
above the law
Whilst the widows’ tears
Pave new roads
Down dry-cracked
Faces.
Categories:
wailers, death, irony,
Form:
Free verse
Celebration is our nature
A distinction of pleasure
Activities of leisure
In a full count of measure.
Everybody is celebrating
With nobody distracting
For everyone is understanding
So no one is obstructing.
Gathered in the neighbourhood
with a true spirit of brotherhood
In tune with our adulthood
Memories of our childhood.
In our way our brother's keepers
In no way our brother's killers
In time of joy the hailers
In time of sorrow the wailers.
Togetherness our culture
In oneness our structure
Fabrique of our love won't puncture
The goodness of life shall we capture.
Categories:
wailers, dedication, friendship, history, time,
Form:
Lyric
Joy and sorrow,two Skies,
Down pouring,
Tear rains,
Every drop of tear,
Bears a value like pearls,
The wailers on death,
Inviting synthetic tears,
Enjoy value,
In monetary terms!
Categories:
wailers, death, emotions, sky,
Form:
Imagism
Night air grew warm and stiflin’
And the lightnin’ flashed the sky—
As night herders sang those notes
Of the “Texas Lullaby.”
The notes came low and trembled—
Wailers did not yell or shoot—
Their voices rose on high now
To quiet cow and galoot.
The lightnin’ then grew brighter
Like an eerie prairie pyre—
It balled and jumped each cow’s horns—
The ghost of St. Elmo’s fire.
Those two night guards now sang on,
A soft song not made of words—
Syllables and tones to soothe
And calm down uneasy herds.
The cattle moved in circles
And then would have stampeded—
When a cow bawled for its calf
And that’s all that was needed.
The rain came and lightnin’ ceased—
Herders sang softly and high—
The cows bedded slowly down
To that “Texas Lullaby.”
And on they kept a singin’—
Not on words did they rely—
Just tones and soft syllables
Of that “Texas Lullaby.”
Categories:
wailers, cowboy-western, mystery, nature, night,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
There's not a whole lotta nothing
That can be dug out of the grave
Of this life's buried problems
Of all our past mistakes
You can chisel out the tombstone
Making room for all the dates
Of the didn't go the way we planed
That in the dirt now lay to waste
Call in the Pallbearers
To shoulder it all
To help carry the burden
Of where you left off
Hire professional wailers and mourners
To cry for the loss
But can you really afford
Such an extravagant cost
When all is said and done
The last word the preacher will say
Is there's not a whole lotta nothing
That can be dug out of the grave
Categories:
wailers, inspirational, life,
Form:
Free verse
Ye lovers of song,
musically inclined,
Sing loud, Sing now,
All the birds of the earth are listening
while we sing all over the world.
Sing like
...the mockingbird
where the weeping willows wave.
... the swallows
as mission bells ring.
... the nightingale who
croons in Berkeley square.
Sing like
...three flamingos
pitched on Bob Marley’s doorstep.
...rockin' robin with Michael Jackson
on Jaybird Street.
... the Blue Jays
at the 7th inning in Toronto.
While we sing all over the world,
all the birds of the earth are listening.
Sing now, Sing loud!
Ye musically inclined,
sing, lovers of song.
April 27, 2020
Credits:
Listen to the Mockingbird – Alice Hawthorne
When The Swallows Come Back to Capistrano – Leon Rene, sung by Ink Spots
A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square – Eric Maschwitz
Three Little Birds – Bob Marley and the Wailers
Rockin’ Robin – Leon Rene, sung by Bobby Day and later, Michael Jackson
OK Blue Jay’s - Jack Lenz and Tony Kosinec
Categories:
wailers, 11th grade, baseball, bird,
Form:
Free verse
The interview at Chatham House gave me a pill that's hard to swallow
Against what some apologetics think is straight and narrow
Cos BAT didn't want to follow other's footsteps in anything
He decided to walk all of us through a new thing
A new thing he has mapped out in his road map
So that wailers won't come again looking for his flap
As he attended to serious issues thinking that he has his cap in his hand
BAT attended UK interview with the children of his right hand
Kudos to him for having delegates that are analytics
Didn't that delegation portray another stunt from his whole bag of tricks,
When a baby wanted to run when he should be learning how to walk?
BAT isn't yet the President, thus, no delegate ought to talk his talk
Interviews are examination to pick the best choice
Over the joke displayed in the Chatham House some still rejoice
If these clumsies can't do such with their job interviews
It's pathetic to think that BAT is straight and narrow in their views
I urge Nigerians to stop being like butterfingers
In the way they keep dropping sages for unconstructive thinkers
The first citizen of a nation should have a good overview of every issue
The quality only seen in interviews and debates on every issues
Categories:
wailers, political,
Form:
Rhyme
The single born,is like cowslip
Blooming freshly
In a winter-garden
Potent and virile aside
Waiting for watering can
To water it and avail coolly.
The single born,fled rivals away
Boon blithely in a bullion
Just as the only Navel in the quarter
Buffet his ticks stilted
Wailers remains silence
Instead of I from galore.
The single born, you're parent's gaze
Tried of them to see you smile,
Alacrity!
Always stuck you onto orthostatic
Loudly "you are vile,
Pal of shadows men and boys,
Winter -man...
The giant Astro;
Who twinkles on everyone's ego
Different that of throngs"
The single born, you're mild,
And fresh cinnamon.
Categories:
wailers, birth, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
The saddest, maddest children usually find their way to my office.
I am the school counselor.
They arrive on their own, knocking, or just running in.
I always ask if they have permission.
Some do, many do not.
They need to tell me how angry they are, how sad, how mad.
Often quivering and screaming, sometimes adding lots of swear words.
I do not mind. I am the school counselor.
It is my job to let them do whatever they can to vent, to feel better.
When they are calmer, after playing cards or drawing a picture
or yelling and screaming their anguish I usually ask them
“who did you help today?”
Repeat screamers and whining wailers have helped no one.
The more giving, wiser child knows that helping someone else is the quickest way to bring a bit of joy to your own suffering heart.
children who refuse to try helping another person are the saddest
they do know the joy of a giving heart or helping hands.
I keep encouraging, hoping they will come around.
Many of these children are so hurt, they cannot get outside themselves.
Their feelings are all encompassing.
They do not see the benefit of helping anyone.
Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, they are screaming.
Sadly remaining joyless.
Categories:
wailers, pain, teen,
Form:
Narrative