Best Wailings Poems
Dawn broke
The eastern pink sky
Drew across the stars
As they faded and lost to the night
I called the eagle
To guide me
Piercing whistle
That I learnt as a boy
Running wild and free
I walked in the company of men
High above, eagles flew
The wraiths are coming from the otherworld too
Carrying the angst and pain
That has no place and name
Here at Heartstone
The screeching and wailing
Increased hideously
The tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
I stood, with the company of men
My bow ready
Arrows drawn
Arm, steady
I have trained to defend
Truth and love
Nobility
Chivalry
The wraiths gathered
The screeching and wailings
Piercing through
To our souls
We are ready
To fight to the end
To defend
All that is true
The flight of an arrow
Unleashed
Steadied by the eagles’ feather
Of brown and gold
It flew
Straight and true
In to the non existent heart
Of a wraith bitter and cold
It was this I slew
A bundle of rags fell
For it is not the metal tip
That killed
It was the feather of a Heartstone Eagle
Truth be told
That slew
A wraith, bitter and cold
The wraiths flew
From behind the mountain
The screeching and wailing
Tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
They came in their hundreds
To fall
For, truth and love
From a feather
Of a mighty eagle above
Slew the hearts
Bitter and cold
Brown and gold glow
Flashing by
The flight of an arrow
The archers
Standing tall
The gleam of brown and gold
That flew
Deep in to the cold bitter hearts
Of stories now told
Of men of the longbow
I reached
I pulled
Many arrows to fly
Of a star
Of a longbow
Aquila am I
The longbow of dark wood
Felt my strength
As I clasped its’ bronze inlaid feathers
And reached
And pulled
Arrows of brown and gold
Deep into wraiths
Its’ purpose understood
The sky turned black
With eagles that twisted and turned
Of wraiths, slain
Felled by the longbow
Down they fell
In to their own stinking hell
The brown and gold aglow
Darkness falling
The fires lit so bright
In a company of men
That celebrated under starlight
Remember….
This day well
When the archers
Masters of the longbow
Sent the wraiths back
To their stinking hell
Of Aquila
Who slew
More than most
The flight of an arrow
That holds true
"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from an autumn tree."
Quote by _ Emily Bronte
All the trees are changing their summer gowns,
the winds whispers- trees it is time to fall;
and stained glass leaves drop in golds, reds, and browns,
taking their time to fly they often crawl.
And drifting are sweet bird rhapsody songs,
the tweets, the chirps, twittering and the twangs;
all of autumn is quiet and mellow,
I am holding a leaf veined and yellow.
The rain falls in a pitter-patter dance,
there is a splendor in the scenery;
and the leaves with a madness spin and prance,
a beauty where once there was greenery.
The wind is wailings like a violin,
oh God has painted his beautiful art;
all around painted leaves whirl, swirl and spin,
his voice whispers in the trees and my heart.
Topped with terra cotta- tiled roof
the house stood on a hill with pine trees,
partly covering it from view,
with its turrets opening like watchful eyes.
Rumor runs, at night from there,
people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
eager to prove the irrationality of it,
one night I ascended the hill,
leading to that cozy mansion.
As I paced faster and came closer,
the house looked so imposing
with a wide yard and a porch
surrounded by ornamental railings
with a winding driveway
lain with marble squares
and leading to the entrance
Close to the house but safely distant,
I noticed a narrow pit hidden among shrubs
Nothing was unusual about it.
I walked round and round.
Couldn’t see anything to rouse suspicion.
When I was about to leave,
as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging
from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on,
like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch
and soon shape shifted into a man.
Fancy or Fact, never looking back
I took to my heels as fast as I could.
Farewell 2014, God Bless You
Good years pass in a wink
The cup is broken before you finish a drink
The bad ones each day, a hell, an inferno
Sheepishly creeping in, you made tall promises
Peace, tranquility, harmony
End of conflict, strife and poverty,
Rule of Law, good governance, redeeming of grievances
Your promises fell by the way side
The high and mighty you served like your predecessors
You reincarnated Hitler, Mussolini and Caesars
Humbleness vanished, ruled arrogance and pride
To Syria and Iraq you gifted ISIS
In Afghanistan and Pakistan you created crisis
The cruel hands of Satan like Taliban were let loose
For the afflicted, anguish and pain you choose
You were a silent spectator to Israel’s atrocities
Like Nero you fiddled when Gaza burnt
The cries and wailings of Palestinian women and children
Fell on deaf ears; didn't melt your hardened heart
You unleashed sufferings to Muslims in Myanmar
You saw the massacre of school children in Peshawar
The sit in observed by the leader Imran Khan
Against the corrupt rulers in Pakistan
Which good deed you boast about
It is best for you now quietly to slip out
And allow me to welcome two thousand and fifteen
See the seed of New Year’s dawn sprout
With radiant shine and glow of hope on its face
The New Year may as well enter the race
May through Almighty’s sublime grace
The conflicts and sufferings to leave no trace
Exit 2014 and enter two thousand fifteen
May tomorrow promise a life tranquil and serene!
Sintra, Portugal -December 31, 2014 -23:54 hours
Let us celebrate
This is not time to denigrate
Nigerians rise and jubilate
Cause we are poised to rethink and meditate
Let us roll out the drums
This is not the time to keep mum
Let the air be filled with fun
To drown the wailings and guns
Democracy has come to stay in Nigeria history
Let us celebrate a hard- won victory
A milestone in the country's trajectory
Prophets of doom remain confounded and desultory
Nigeria the hope of the black race
Rise up and keep the pace
Exterminate corruption without trace
And give the country a new face
You are destined for Leadership
A rallying point for African Fellowship
Do not be deterred by the present hardship
From claiming your divine kingship
*Image of Pendulum by Pixabay.
Of Fatalism
'Tis past the eleventh hour,
As time ...,
Here in the bunker,
I walked away from the Atomic Clock whose pendulum terminated its sway,
Walked I, away from expressionless gazes of our hereafter,
Longings tethered to massive cement deterrents laden with steel rods that point every which way,
It encompasses us, hanging as fitting sheaths insulating our newly acquisitions -- swords of Damocles,
Each of us has someone whom we treasured still up there,
That would justify the emptiness I see,
They're benumbed by internal seething pain,
Tormented by their incapacities to help,
Haunted by incessant wailings,
And then, of course, the little ones,
Oh, my sweet Jesus!
What have I done, what have I done,
There were protection elements everywhere,
They were set up at every point,
Outside, beyond the perimeter,
Ubiquitously, near primary targets,
However, also, everywhere,
... was uncompromising resistance,
After the inevitable played out,
They, too, joined the vacant masses,
I guess that is how good old warriors just fade away,
A newly carped floor in the War Room where lies my rejected arguments,
it is under the dismissive course of action,
and that's shoved neath disappointing occurrences involving hypothetical possibilities,
How do I overcome these unforgivable mistakes and missed opportunities?
[He sees two-armed guards at their post]
He mumbles, "Coward!
Well, Mr. Speech Writer, since your first debate"
There is the disoriented,
the miss-connect,
the heartbroken
the lonely
and me,
I'm the one left holding a piece of thread,
Gentlemen,
Let them in,
for it is time for us to begin,
... Year One.
2022 August 08
What gain is reaped in war's cruel strife?
What honor does it truly crown?
When lives young and old, precious, ripe,
Stooped, silenced—dreams torn down?
In ruins, wailings, someone sobbing,
Loved ones lie lifeless—tragic loss,
Wars waged by kings of greed,
Hungry political grues.
Dominion, power pursuit,
Wealth, pride, and prestige,
Autocracy, they boast,
Cost peaceful lives' carnage.
Selfishness—the color of their love,
Clad in strong political will,
Torn weak nations, they grabbed,
Incite wars for their fill,
From national pride to world command,
Hawkish kings seek domination,
Enslaving others, for their brand,
Expend others in desolation.
Their greed can never meet—
Satisfaction with material wealth,
God will come, their dreams are killed,
Judge their debt long unpaid.
Their arrogance, they dare claim,
To be gods, rulers of all,
But when God Himself returns, proclaims—
His kingdom on Earth will sum it all.
Patience prepares us for salvation,
Avenge the oppressed, grant their plea,
God, the only true God, and King of creation,
Settle the world's controversy.
Beneath this sordid stanzas storm swept night
Such eroglyphics; frost upon the warping window panes
Oozing opaques of blood red crimson, bleeding from burnt sashes
Crying ashes, screaming amid the rain....
"Do you really know pain," they asked
As the shadows of this world, did all but turn away
Rotting, flesh for the pellucid pelicans; thus decayed
While the countless loved ones wept; deep inside they weep
Chasing off the waiting vultures these
Petrified spirits, sown beyond the wailings trees....
Ethnologies exogenous, transluciating tumorous roarings; latex
Cataclysmic lightning of fables, now colliding, with the craving sea ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Apotheans, midnight winters recital!?
Note: Smile ~ This poem is about the darkened oppressions, repressions,
sufferage & plights, amid humanity within this, "Our World Today!"
Many moons and many seasons have passed
since you journeyed faraway to alien shores without a word from you,
save a portrait of yourself clad in fine linen.
Every night, I see you in my dreams in scarlet silk standing by the beach,
waiting for that bespectacled Snowman.
My dream turns to nightmare waking to the sobering thought that you might forget me
and Telemachus you left behind...
So,
I wanted to write you a letter
to tell you
how I feel about this sickening thought in my head
that you may know
I have been in the blue since the day you departed from me;
the thought of you strikes me like the flash of lightning;
yet, my heart only yearns for you
I wanted to write you a letter
to remind you
of our halcyon days
of how enraptured we were walking hand-in-hand through the harvest fields at sunset
of the vows we made on moonlit nights
of the dreams we hope to accomplish
and of Death—the debt that all men must pay
I wanted to write you a letter
to ask you
how oftentimes do you see me in your dreams as I see you in mine?
Do you pause a minute to think of me if I cross your mind?
Or have you completely erased me from your memory?
And you should, please, tell me that I may not tarry in vain orchestrating my own doom
like Narcissus
Or my wailings like Cassandra’s unheeded cries;
that I may know when you will be coming home to break this deafening silence
of your absence
that this anguish, this cold within me may vanish...
But,
when I gaze at your portrait on my table as I sit to commune with my Muse;
though I search vehemently, still, I cannot find those befitting words
to write this letter
I wanted to write to you.
I quit.
The
appetite
is
wet,
The
aroma
is
great,
Roses
emitting
a
pleasing
scent,
Tongue
yearning
for
a
taste,
The
mind
becomes
restless
and
quickly
shifts
to
a
bad
state,
Because
the
belly's
vacuum
has
to
be
occupied
in
haste.
A
battle
erupts
within
the
intestines,
Wailings
and
groanings,
Trumpets
and
horns
are
sounding,
Civilians
are
demanding,
Threatening
to
go
on
strike
and
send
the
system
crashing,
But
despite
all
these
efforts,
The
aid
isn't
coming,
Eyes
roll
in
different
directions,
Nothing.
A
meeting
is
called
to
seek
for
a
solution,
The
unions
reach
common
ground
and
resort
to
mass
action,
Shop
begin
closing
in
minor
provinces,
The
capital
has
to
make
a
decision,
Because
the
masses
are
moving
in
slow
motion,
Pending!
Suddenly
good
news
start
pouring
in,
At
last
the
tables
are
set,
There
on
every
tablecloth,
Is
a
glass
of
vinegar
and
a
slice
of
cake.
When it comes to all my sorrows
what do I do with them
Do I place them in a paper cup
and pour them down the sink
Do I take a mallet to them
and pound them soft as mink
When it comes to all my tears
where do I bring them?
Do I bring them to the sea
to merge with salty smears
Do I offer up my wailings
to the God above?
When it comes to all my sadness
what can take them all away?
Do I grin and bear it with a grin
then walk away on feet of clay
or do I pray for better days,
hoping that ,He'll lead the way.
Re : Old Poems
Bells of triumph clang,
Fortresses fain to hail thee
Men of valiant swords.
Glories thence fell, crowns crumbled
To dust, no wailings were heard.
,,
The wind about thy sceptre howl and cry,
Loft precipices trampled;
Ruined rich piles of graves.
~
Forms : Tanka / Kimo
(3/21/2012)
I was standing at the edge
I saw it coming
I could smell its scent
I had this feeling at the pit of my stomach
My heart was taking forever
Slow but sure it was coming to a halt
Death was knocking
The heart beat began to slow
It was so faint I could hardly hear it
My knees weakened
And I was crumbling
Slowly I was falling
I was dyeing yet still standing
My sight blurred
My hands were in a tight fist
I was holding my self
I was lifting my self
For a moment I thought I could
But I was wrong
My being was loosing its strength
Life had given up on me
A scream pierced the atmosphere
I was dying
The wailings were louder
I was dead
I was panting my breadth heavy
I was crying and I couldn't stop the tears
I was mourning my own death
Then my eyes flew open
No no but I'm dead
It was just a dream.
Darkness clipped this enclave,
As we wake to this new dawn.
It eroded our minds.
Our days turned nights!
Our nights turned days!
Our cries swim across our continent's borders,
We craft tents and hear wailings,
From our forsaken lands,
In our makeshift settlements.
We lost our heads like decapitated bottles.
We wailed to our oppressors and get in return,
The shattering clamps and bangs from our repressors.
Our eyes are opened to the leeway of social network,
The maddening ginger that rummed us
To this state that we know not
What awaits us infront.
Our days turned nights,Our nights turned days,
As we see ruins in our lands.
“Remember that funny joke I played on Louise in college? “ Mouse asked me.
She was in full-blown laughter mode now. She had hiccups and tears when she finally almost stopped,
Mouse, my jokester friend, has been my best friend since we were 7, after I accidentally gave her a black eye by twisting her swing too tight when the teacher’s back was turned.
I love Mouse’s jokes, and I’m pretty sure this is going to be hysterical, so I cannot wait until she shares it.
“Louise was so mad at you,” Mouse said. “Boy, was she mad at YOU!”
Now, this I did remember as Louise and I were really great friends in college, and suddenly she stopped talking to me and refused to tell me why, breaking my heart.
I spent many nights sobbing to Mouse about it. Mouse, my college roommate kept telling me to stop because she could not sleep over my wailings. But I was heartbroken, because Louise and I had been really good friends, and now she preferred spending time with Mouse, not me.
“Why was she mad at me?” I asked Mouse. “Did she ever tell you?”
Mouse chuckled a few more times. “Remember how Louise was afraid of cats?”
I had to admit I never knew this.
“Well,” Mouse said, gulping for air as she tried to get it out just right. “I found a dead cat on the street, so I boxed it up and sent it through the mail to Kate.”
I was absolutely and utterly repulsed, horrified, and angry. “Why did she think it was me?” I asked her.
Mouse was looking at her covers now. “I may have told her it might have been you,” she admitted. “Boy was she mad!” Then she went off into gales of laughter.
I lost my “best” friend that day, but she was not left in the dark. I shared the why.