This is a story of wee mental Blair minty Wilson,
he was a father a brother a nephew an uncle a cousin and one true friend,
he was loved by everyone that he did meet,
His mental health hid from all to see,
And the world was cruel to what he was going through,
On the outside he was full of joy, and he was so proud of his baby boy,
no matter to where he went, he took his dog jack walks through hills and glens,
He was some kid that was so kind, on the outside he smiled,
But had loads on his mind,
No matter where minty went,
he was a funny lad and loved to the end,
we will keep him close to our hearts,
and he will never ever part,
Such a shame you could not speak, to how you felt so we could not see,
wish you opened your heart, and we knew you would never have to part,
but we hope your with your mum and your grandparents love,
till we meet again r i p our friend,
in the church they bellowed out kodaline tune,
that touched our hearts too, and at the grave we said goodbye,
with a tear in our eye,
but we know you will be there, and hear us all in our prayer,
till we meet once again, sleep tight minty till we meet again,
A sonnet by this arrant bard, an other,
whose sole half-brother, a real piece of work,
and single parent (mother like no other!),
together were no warm nor loving perk.
In her heart, mother disowned me in life.
My younger half-brother begrudged my genius,
whilst being a rival who sowed seeds of strife,
in mother, against me (how very jealous
was he?). But I, an outright bard, complete
and sheer, make their dysfunction a rhymed affair
to exorcise these memories: defeat
this duo by whom I'm “an other” in despair!?
But if I could return my estranged mother,
I still wouldn't—and call my half-sibling, “Brother!”
Dancing singing windchimes
Motorcycle engine in the distance
Breezy day warmed by immensely hot sun
I sit barefooted on my porch, gulping vitamin D
One dog lies curled at my feet
A regal shepherd great Dane mix with an oversized head
His adopted brother, a frenzied retriever, walks over chewing something
Could be walnut, plastic, rubber, toy, match, band-aid or glass
Screeching siren sound advances
Neither dog moves
City dogs
Living a country life
Used to city sounds
Sonnet
From far, back I have come
To their surprise, I brought a dove,
Happy they were, everyone at home,
And a nest they weaved for her, what a love!
My brother, a smith, made her a golden ring.
Love and compassion led her out of bond
To the sky she soars up — her song to sing.
Between us no frictional touch, but fine fond;
In her crops-pasturing afoot she walks,
While our eyes tendering on her steps, lest treading a hook
For we all feel unease to a cause she crawls,
And our heart pounds to the eagle nasty look;
Always she roosts in her nest to avoid the rain,
And when get wet, in the sun she stands to drain.
©® Muhammad Abdulhamid Kumo
April, 2024
#SpringHearted
#AlaSuperQuote
about colors
So pale the rosebush on the verandah
is it because the night is so long and cold
the flowers look like the red purses
little girls have a few pennies in
kept hidden for her brother, a few
pennies to buy sweets for
I have lost the colors on my computer
it is gray, the spirit will not soar
like it didn't when I wanted to be a parachutist
I will visit the computer man
to bring colors back, even if it is artificial
and exude no aroma
the little girl sits at the back of the garage
furtively eat candy, but feel guilty
she should have shared the sweets
with her annoying brother, after all, she is
his big sister
In her hair, a red Gansho
Young Red was searching Wolf Forest, but got lost
She felt someone staring at her with blue eyes of frost.
It was a weird bird whose feathers were amazingly pink.
There are two of us, said his brother, a wren name of Wink.
He is Fink, I am Wink, and we guard this forest from human beings.
a rooster-like creature made Red wonder what she was seeing.
this cannot be Wolf Forest, she said, completely turned around.
The birds began to titter and trill, one promptly fell upside down.
We are guardians of Fowl Forest, you are completely mad, Wink said.
Fink gave his brother a swift feathery high five, then yelled out for Ned.
Ned was the weird goofy bird with the striped socks, she found out.
They chased her away, across a field, leaving her at a round-about.
We all have those moments. Moments in life when you know things will never be the same for you. For me that moment was seeing Fred's black Pumas on the stairs after he had passed away. The empty shoes gave me a flash back. I saw him standing at the kitchenette counter in his scrubs and the same all-black althetic sneakers preparing my morning coffee and vitamins. His light blue scrubs unable to hide his hulking shoulders and chest , yet loose on his flat stomach. In his stead i'd find a freshly pressed coffee, vitamins and water bottle in a row on the counter. A true care taker of a care taker. At one time, these little acts of service became a welcomed routine. Now... the same shoes sat empty and lonely on the steps toward where we used to live. Which was now just an empty room. Fredy'd never have a chance to Be. A chance to better himself. A chance at Love again , which I know he had a lot of to give. The empty shoes filled my heart with sadness. The thought that his large heart no longer beat in his chest was almost too much for me to bear. Who could ever fill this man's shoes? As a Brother, a Son, Grandson and Caretaker, as a Lover or as a Best Friend.
In a world so wide, my brother, so great,
With mischief in his eyes, oh, what a trait!
His laughter rings out, like a joyful chime,
My mischievous brother, oh, how sublime!
With a twinkle in his eye and a grin so wide,
He leads me on adventures, nowhere to hide.
Through fields we frolic, in the sun's warm embrace,
My mischievous brother, a true heart's grace.
He hides my toys and plays pranks so sly,
Yet when I'm in trouble, he's the first to stand by.
With a heart so pure, in his own special way,
My mischievous brother, brightens my day.
He climbs tall trees and dreams of the sky,
With courage unending, he's ready to fly.
In his dreams, he's a hero, bold and strong,
My mischievous brother, where he belongs.
Though he may tease and drive me insane,
In my heart, he holds a special domain.
For in his mischievous ways, there's love, you see,
My mischievous brother, means the world to me.
So here's to you, my brother so dear,
With mischief and laughter, year after year.
In this great journey, together we roam,
My mischievous brother, you make me feel home.
A Monoku by: Ink Empress
The ink of my skin doesn't define me nor does it construe my poetry.
Am I not human to your eyes?
Do you not see my soul inside that streaky mirror of yours ?
Have you forgotten, that I have a story too?
Beneath the canopy of heaven
God has Bisqued me and left you white,
some he even inked them yellow.
We each have our own unique skin tone,
bone is bone I wasn't meant to be alone.
Bigotry is not acceptable in a world where our heritage
is something we are born in, not something we chose.
Love me as if I were your neighbor, treat me as a brother a sister,
for I hunger just like you and I dream just like you
Am I not human to your eyes?
When you look at the color of my skin,
do you see me, ...as your next of kin?
By: Mystic Rose
Too much blood running in this place,
The bitter tears just seem to sting our face.
Innocent lives are being snuffed out everywhere.
And as we mourn, we are crippled with fear.
When will the senseless killing come to an end?
We have lost a mother, a father, a brother, a friend.
And as we mourn we sigh for our nation,
For every one of us must face this situation.
None of us are safe anywhere or at any time,
And it seems as if our lives are not even worth a dime.
How can you be so silent while our innocent blood run?
We continue to live with hope that justice will finally come.
What you sow, in time you will surely reap,
Then the tables will turn as you begin to weep.
No mercy for the merciless that held us at ransom for so long,
We will smile to ourselves as you pay for every wrong.
We will sing and dance as you are led to gallows,
As your demise will be the end to all our sorrows.
We are tired of living in fear of what you will do,
It is time for us to be free of the pain that you have put us through,
And the innocent will be free at last as you face your final call,
And then with one voice we will echo we have survived it all.
Loneliness follows me where ever I go,
only companion I have had for long,
people have wandered in and out
of my life like it was a market place,
trading emotions, feelings and thoughts,
for tokens of love or words exchanged,
each with purpose, journey of their own,
shaking hands briefly where roads meet,
but go different ways to destinations each,
through darkness and light, wind and rain,
each person doing a role as they go by,
a mother, a brother, a sister and father,
a daughter, a son some friends and others,
but then the only one that has stayed with me
is a friend who knows when he is needed most,
and lends a hand and talks to me,
is the one that has echoes of myself,
and I even wonder if it looks like me?
we are all in a way lonely in this life,
wading through this mirage of society,
some with prayers and thoughts of God,
and some in silence, in slow steady steps,
but the only reality is the loneliness with us,
and the many lonely in the crowds that
surround us!!
In the face of prejudice and pain,
He stands tall, with head held high,
A symbol of strength and resilience,
A black man, proud and dignified.
He bears the weight of history,
The chains of oppression and slavery,
Yet still he rises, unbroken,
His spirit burning bright and free.
He is a son, a brother, a father,
A friend to those who know his worth,
With a heart that beats with passion,
And a soul that's pure as the earth.
His skin is dark as midnight,
But his spirit shines like the sun,
A testament to his perseverance,
And the battles he has won.
He is a warrior, a hero,
A man of grace and power,
And though the road ahead may be long,
He will never falter or cower.
For he knows that in his heart,
There beats a strength that's true,
A force that cannot be broken,
A spirit that will always renew.
So let us honor this black man,
And all that he represents,
For he is a beacon of hope,
And a symbol of our common descent.
In the land of sun and sand,
Where the world burns hot and bright,
Stands a man with skin of onyx,
A black man, a noble sight.
He walks with purpose and power,
His stride firm and unyielding,
For he knows the weight of history,
And the challenges of his being.
Through the centuries of oppression,
His people have persevered,
From the chains of slavery,
To the fight for civil rights revered.
But this man is not just a symbol,
Of the struggle and the pain,
He's a person with a story,
And a heart that beats the same.
He loves, he dreams, he creates,
With a passion and a fire,
And though the world may try to break him,
He stands tall, his spirit higher.
For he is more than just his color,
More than the stereotypes that bind,
He is a son, a brother, a father,
A man with a brilliant mind.
So let us celebrate this black man,
And all the beauty he brings,
For in his strength and in his love,
Our world is truly enriched.
Samuel Wamuel, Pirate Cat with a Yo Ho Ho Ho
Steered his ship through the island of Want a Go Go
With salty western winds on his lip, and his heart full of woe
He traveled the Seven Seas as some of us foreigners know.
Other pirate ships would spot us and yell “oh, no! No!”
Samuel Wamuel’s reputation was not a bit slow.
He’s not all that bad said his child, name of Chloe.
Oh, yes, he is said his brother, a bad boy named Joe.
Antoine Pevsner of non objective art
modern materials had no part
Like his brother a matter of technic
in visual space dynamic*
*https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/the-birth-of-the-universe-by-antoine-pevsner-1933--452822937518823308/
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