Best Wake Poems
Now I lay me down to sleep
In my home that's really sweet
Had three large meals and a snack
There wasn't a hint of any lack
Comfortable shoes and clothes that fit
My heart's desires my money can get
Friends and family know my name
So many opportunities it's just insane
Doctors and dentists, heat and air
A hope and a future.. No despair
Little chance I'll die before I wake
But if I do, my soul God will take.
But the homeless orphan goes to sleep
His unbathed body on a filthy street
Sold himself today to get a meal
From a slimy stranger with a dollar bill
No life, no skills, no future, no hope
No family, no friends, no heat, no coat
No shelter, no job, no doctor, no care
No money, no support, no help anywhere
Despair and neglect, a fight to survive
A shell of a child more dead than alive
And if this orphan dies before he wakes
Will he know my God his soul to take?
~Lyric Man
Note: Just returned from two weeks in Africa. I’ve seen the most amazing and the most tragic sights. This poem/prayer is a contrast of a typical western lifestyle to that of a fatherless orphan.
PS-I’ve basically been without internet for the past two weeks and have missed reading your poetic works. May you and I never take take for granted all the blessings that we have been afforded!
Wake me, the owl, when the moon does rise
and his golden beams illuminate the skies,
when the darkness flees and the time just flies
and the cold, crystal stars twinkle in our eyes.
Nothing could keep me from basking in your glow
not lightning, not thunder, not even rain or snow,
I'm not moving from my branch, so let the winds blow
his crescent smile is never lost, this I surely know.
So easily the moon enchants and takes me by the wing
which causes my heart to flutter, and serenade and sing,
The daytime sun does not possess the charm that he can bring
when under his nightly influence, you can imagine anything.
Still, no dream can entice me to sleep in a little late
and miss the wonder of the moment, O, I cannot wait,
to see him there hurrying along, not to miss a date
then up above the hills to meet me at my wooden gate.
I'll wait right here, nestled up high in the maple tree
where you will hear my echoed call, but hardly ever see,
a little, lonesome night owl is what I will always be
when the moon does rise, just promise you'll wake me.
Written on February 6th, 2016
Owls Personification Contest
With the heavy load you suffer
a substance not needed
yet drags you
cushioning your efforts
and deterring your pace, forgetting that
the Train is already moving
with passengers determined
for this journey.
Why get so distracted
by passers-by focused to catch up?
Why are you tossed side to side,
putting you each time,
a step backwards?
Can't you realize that
the Train is already moving
with passengers determined for this journey?
It seems you are the only one left
and this is solely your doing
with no one to blame
and the rest,
definitely have no added advantage over you.
So stop acting weak
cos the Train
is already moving
with passengers determined for this journey.
Wake up oh Africa!
you get your independence
just to become a volunteer slave.
You live in a Mansion
yet have no place to sleep.
Stop acting like a bucket of Crabs
killing each other
just to get out
and copy the ants
united and networking
for a common cause.
You fight for just a coin
underneath the Table.
When on it is a box
full of this same treasure.
Despite knowing how to reach out
to its top,
you neglect such knowledge
and accept conflicts, violence and wars.
Settling for good enough
is worst than being bad
you blow your trumpet
when you make a step
out of a thousand more.
You show unbelievable contentment
to mediocrity and under-achievements,
but remember this!
Half a giant is no giant at all.
You have the breast plate
of protection
and all the arsenals to battle
yet you dine with the helms of poverty
and embrace the ambassadors
of all kinds of infirmities.
You walk around naked
and seem not to bother
oh Africa!
Do you exist to actualize all these negativity?
An expert of imitation
and a professional in copying
no wonder no matter your trys
you end up as number 2 at best.
Because you've neglected
the sweetness of your originality.
You milk your cattle
to nourish the west
you harvest your crops
to feed foreign stomachs
you stand on abundant humus
yet your leaves are yellow and dry.
Exactly what will happen to the ants
if their Queen puts
their fate on the lizards
is what will befall you
not until you wake up oh Africa!
Allow The Dawn To Wake Us
I would write words for you, dipped in beauty and gold
my heart would burst for you, if it were just that bold;
with you, our romance cries out, for an eight day week
with you, I have found the truest of deep love I seek.
Walk with me, to paradise its bright singing birds
Talk to me, your voice sends golden, beautiful words;
stay this night, let our two souls and pure hearts entwine
allow dawn to wake us, let our loving hours shine.
Love does flow with heat for you from my melted heart
honey dipped allure your ambrosia does impart,
time together precious as racing pulse does chime
in amaranthine night of purple passion prime.
Basking in our luscious love lush and heaven-sent
rousing first blush bathes us embraced in our content;
sunrise spreads ardent reds blessing our love story
dawning dew thrills the bloom of our morning glory.
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
July 17,2018
My poet's note: Yet again my dear friend Susan, it is an honor and delightful pleasure to discuss with and write this collaborative, inspiring creation with you.
Your poetic heart and soul is evident in the depths and beauty of the verses you always contribute to our poetry. To have you as a dear friend and then also be so very blessed as to be gifted your time, insight and talent in composing poetry together is a fantastic revelation of your kindness, generosity and high standing character.
Susan's poet’s note: My dear friend Robert, thank you for your gracious invitation to collaborate with you on this luminous piece of poetry. It is my honor to unite our poetic voices once again and a joy to be inspired by your golden verses of rich romance and ardent love. Our collaborations, and your wonderful talent and kindhearted friendship are treasured and I cherish our shared passion for creating poetry.. I truly enjoyed this exquisite poetic and artistic experience with you my dear friend.
I’ve moved amongst raging white caps
With the wind and spray and stinging flaps
A now meaningless course with little chance
The final few steps of my ship’s last dance
My hands release the spinning wheel
Now just a piece of useless steel
I now await the crash of the wave
I'm so alone, no need to be brave
She sailed with me across the seas
Once more I want to feel her breeze
Grant my wish my Neptune please
I miss her fair winds and following seas
Eleven months without physical harm
is a blessing she cradles in her arms.
One more month remains of living unchained.
Soon life might lose the dread that threads alarm.
As his time serving overseas dwindles,
her coerced endurance holds less kindle.
Her thought onslaught is worry fraught and serves
images that swell in her heart and nerves.
She lives aware that one second can swerve
a life into despair no one deserves.
He might die or be maimed at the finish line.
In her mind, September is a landmine.
Fears make wishes to become unaware,
be numb to thirty more days of warfare.
She knows as a premature lamenter,
she wants sleep until the end of September.
Nested in the cat’s cradle
Paraded in a child’s fable
I have no voice, don’t let me die
No longer shall I live a lie
I have no soul nor thoughts to save
Unbeknownst to me is
this life beyond the grave?
A designer dainty as she
silky essence she creeps upon so free
and with sheer elegance
unveils a painted lady in a trance
Wake me before the dream ends
In this a lie I can’t depend
Ochre paint splat on walls
Tinted forewings so not to fall
Hindwings I hold up in pain
Fragile chitin, scales, and veins
Bleeding strokes of mango chutney
Opera gloves cobalt blue, cloak impunity
Wake me up! Before I drop
Still asleep, a standing prop
And when I open my eyes
I’ll have wings like butterflies
The bitter truth sounds insane
Blends of electronic elements
Mesh makes perfect sense distasteful
Nestled neatly prim and graceful
Kept in the dark where it’s unfair
Wake me lest I vanish in thin air
In my dream a translucent permanence
I stand alone and have woken an evanescence
Wave at a palm on the other side of ocean,
Hitch a ride on a shooting star.
Reach the peak of Mt. Everest,
Slide belly down with the penguins from the zoo.
Dust the dusk away
Sing with stars that brighten even the darkest blues
Watch how mirrors turn to sand
Kiss the thorn of a desert rose
Drink the rain from the highest cloud
Fall in line like the ants do
Live in a world that is not my own
Wake up…
Carry on dreaming
standing in line
at the local grocery store.
I stood there watching people
sighing impatiently and tapping their toes
while typing on their phones.
I was next, elderly lady ahead
was paying by check.
I saw her tremble
as her fragile fingers penned
away her social security check.
I reached over, held her hand.
said my dear friend,
"this checks on me."
an experience never observed
in "self checkout."
Most mornings I get up before the dawn
Wake up my heart, take coffee to the swing
To feel the thrill each twilight's beauty brings
Endure the rush, as birds sing morning's song
Oh, how I love to watch the morning yawn
Bounce from night's cover as if on a spring
A smile so bright, it lights up everything
Magnificence beyond my lexicon
And on occasion when a morning breaks
Gray clouds refuse to let the sky turn blue
The beauty falls in droplets and or flakes
Until the unrelenting sun shines through
I wake my heart to watch each day begin
All through my day, that peace remains within
by Daniel Turner
10-17-17
I would write words for you, dipped in beauty and gold
my heart would burst for you, if it were just that bold;
with you, our romance cries out, for an eight day week
with you, I have found the truest of deep love I seek.
Walk with me, to paradise its bright singing birds
Talk to me, your voice sends golden, beautiful words;
stay this night, let our two souls and pure hearts entwine
allow dawn to wake us, let our loving hours shine.
Love does flow with heat for you from my melted heart
honey dipped allure your ambrosia does impart,
time together precious as racing pulse does chime
in amaranthine night of purple passion prime.
Basking in our luscious love lush and heaven-sent
rousing first blush bathes us embraced in our content;
sunrise spreads ardent reds blessing our love story
dawning dew thrills the bloom of our morning glory.
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
July 17,2018
Poet’s note: My dear friend Robert, thank you for your gracious invitation to collaborate with you on this luminous piece of poetry. It is my honor to unite our poetic voices once again and a joy to be inspired by your golden verses of rich romance and ardent love. Our collaborations, and your wonderful talent and kindhearted friendship are treasured and I cherish our shared passion for creating poetry.. I truly enjoyed this exquisite poetic and artistic experience with you my dear friend.
Sometimes, I wake up from Sweet Death’s dull sleep,
And find, I’ve not been living as I could,
My friends tell me they tire of seeing me weep…
I feel like I’m a boy, not flesh, but wood…
My nose is growing long, they seem to think,
Although I speak, and mean just what I say,
Some tell me that my promises all stink,
Like broccoli that’s been left out all day.
Well, I’M NOT LIKE THAT! And I don’t agree!
“What seems a lie’s a Promise,” bright Ray* said,
“a need, ramshackle, waiting to be born…”
I think he’s right, and even though he’s dead
I’ll take his words, go charging up the stairs,
And make amends, and show, I’m one who Cares!
*’What seems a lie, is a promise, a ramshackle need, waiting to be born…” – Ray Bradbury
Africa, Africa,
Africa Wake up, wake up,
Your time of success is coming,
The future awaits you.
Wake up from your seat & walk,
You're not there to stay.
Africa, Africa,
You have a dream to work on.
Stop sleeping in your dream.
Your friends are heading to their,
Journeys.
Africa, Africa,
The hope is still there, what are you,
Thinking of?
Is it natural resources?
No, no, no, no Africa, l don't think so.
You have all, but you don't want to put,
Them to use.
Africa, Africa,
When l turn right, l see mysterious of things,
Occuring on the surface of Africa.
When l turn left, l see tears rolling down,
The map of Africa.
Africa, Africa,
You are the problem to your children.
When l think of the physical features,
Tears roll down my eyes creeping towards,
The center of my chest.
Africa, Africa,
Iron ores, we export them and import,
Vehicles.
Why don't we use those ores in,
Manufacturing those imported vehicles.
Why Africa?
Africa problem is Africa.
©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.
Easter Wake-up Call
Jesus ~
When you woke up in the tomb did you smile –
The living prophecy complete -
As death cowered in your victory?
Throw back your head to laugh in giddiness
As you broke free from burial’s mortal bonds
Trembling at your feet?
Sing a kingly Psalm of morning joy
Lion of Judah in roars of Resurrection
That banished Adam’s shame into oblivion
Tap your toes in rhythm to your quickened heartbeat
Chasing evil shadows around the tomb
As they cringed within your reborn shadow
Dance the dance of triumph
And mend the temple curtain torn in shreds
When wickedness groveled in defeat before you
Breathe in sweet breaths – mercy’s living testimony
To exhale in pure whispers of grace
As evil gasped in thrashing suffocation
Shout Amen! Alleluia! It is finished!
Prince of Heaven as sin yielded stinging tears
To the union of omniscient forgiveness.
Jesus
When you woke up in the tomb
Time’s framework shattered – the lost chord found
Heaven’s landscape showed through the thin matrix membrane
Mercy’s healing fragrant balm caressed earthly nails scars
The Anointed now anointed exile’s wounds with restoration’s incense
The mystery of God and man’s enigma unraveled
When you woke up in the tomb.
4-6-22
Contest: Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsor” Regina McIntosh
The
house was full
of yesterdays-
books
that filled
wet Wednesdays
cross-stitch
hours upon the wall
eclectic
art,glass,pottery
collected,moments
sentiments
priceless,unique
irreplaceable-
a smell of love
percolated
into offspring
memories
drifting
to timeless
tomorrows