In luxuriant jade landscape
of verdant sprouts
glorious golden understory
copiously unveiled,
stemmed by swerving
emerald blades,
entwining the pairs
of petrified legs,
rooted in sensual soil of sanguinity,
the potent promise
morphed as the maze
of floral fresco.
The black upright figure
of deviant distinction,
a towering protector
in sutured closeness,
fused with the feminine flair,
camouflaged to confuse
the invidious predator.
Bare trees aligned geometric
in harmonized motif,
outline the florid boulevard
for the beguiled footsteps
walking away enticed
from the onyx horizon
to the sunburst meadow
where the dulcet dawn waits
with desire epitomized.
Inspired by Undergrowth With Two Figures by Van Gogh
Helel: "In accordance with awe, shall we not wet the beaks of the impounded and open the golden maw?"
Kate: "Come and find the firestone broke the cradle and the heath is afeather, I shall but sprung like a promise to weather."
Lucifer: "Is the gloomy stake left with feet adjoined for a door, the promise is ancient, the antique is so pourn."
Aurora: "Timidity like timely strikes the ground flashed across the weathered hetherseconds like amber on the fritz. "
Uraeal: "I copiously decline the stooping ingate of a plan, like vespers cross dark circles and racoon city is old and planned."
RK: "So fearsome but tired the wolf, hell is rolled up and death has rolled over."
DR Dragon: "angsty pray for the weary let Zeus now dowse next and inspect the coral city."
Zeus: "In videographic cards there are other games, let wicked things while I ask them to say."
PW 1: *Has returned, tires of the usual stroll and begins towards the old stones.*
arophc varuag: "Tip back the gamed throngs like milling wet eaves that parlay for soon songs."
The Forbidden one: *Has returned, ushers forth to find the fray this here and now*
---End of act II---
In luxuriant jade landscape
of verdant sprouts,
opulent golden understory
copiously unveiled,
stemmed by swerving
emerald blades,
entwining the pairs
of petrified legs
rooted in soil of sanguinity,
the potent promise
morphed as the maze
of floral profusion.
The black figure upright
of deviant prominence,
a towering protector
in sutured closeness,
fused with feminine flair,
camouflaged to confuse
invidious predator.
Bare trees aligned geometric
in harmonized motif,
outline the florid boulevard
for beguiled footsteps
walking away enticed
from the onyx horizon
to the sunburst meadow
where the dulcet dawn waits
with desire epitomized.
Inspired by Undergrowth With Two Figures by Van Gogh
God takes care of us from above,
His blessings brace with lasting love.
Peace reaches us on wings of dove,
ambit of divine feel grows
in soul’s sanctum where bliss glows.
Fear haunts in the darkness of night,
God dispels it with astral light.
Gracious kind bequest of delight
suffuses dull life with glee
as we go by His decree.
Compassion we seek, get from Him
to live devout life to the brim,
pious hearts pulsate with His hymn.
Distressed get help in disguise,
become copiously wise.
Peace prevails in the mangled mind,
traces tranquility defined.
With trail of mirage we’re aligned,
wise life’s long path isn’t in view.
That’s when He gives foresight new.
Anguished times’ wrath we feebly face,
but escape the fright with His grace
as sanguine solace we embrace
calmly without vanity
at peace peak with sanity….
Sing His glory
in the realm of eternity.
Red dawn spreads above the range of hillocks.
A soft breeze scatters the dandelion seeds around.
A soft zephyr, clean and furry, flows like a hymn,
I feel elated, happy to be far from the city’s dust.
The meadow hums, a mild cacophony of sounds.
Bees hover over wild flowers that grow profusely
Beneath the two rows of rough stone walls.
As the sun rays rise up, and petals glow in such a grace.
Larks fly copiously here and there, sometimes resting
On a dark mulberry tree, so full of black berries
A delight for the birds that love the sweet fruit.
A delight for me since I too love the sweet mulberries.
So I sit down on a smooth stone, back to the wall.
I close my eyes just happy to hear nature’s song
No other being will disturb my profound meditation.
All around the meadow, silence reigns in peace.
Spark quickly the rise,
Dilating dark with glitter stars of cats eyes.
A language we sausage use.
Clumsy myths attenuated
With parachutes of feelings mapped;
Syncopated copiously.
A door opening those parts explored, for instance.
Snail trails of shiny slime on wet pavement;
Mirrors looking backwards,
Entwining organs through time.
Primarily another path
That leads me back to you.
The Peace of God
Peace! You're blissful, we want you
In our hearts, on the planet
Truly, you will make humanity free.
Inasmuch as there is peace true,
This wide world encumbered with torment
Positively will always know upbeat glee.
The Peace of God is due
Primal, and excels all conventions, steadfast
It will flourish in us copiously.
©Lukman Nurudeen Adeniyi
An un-fairie queene
from an unchivalrous tale
lumping and clumping
off beaten tracks
down beaten ones
so beaten
that they click and crack
criss-crossed with crabgrass
so tall that it looks
like some fiendish crag
it crassly sticks to soles
and copiously
feasts on clothes
not only that
there are the pools
mighty, classy and cool
clamouring loud and clear
to be given their due
for they are
the sole claim to fame
of those grumpy roads
they welcome cars
with their clip-clop
and lure them to splosh
to splash the passers-by
Then comes that tired
un-fairie queene
holding a ray of hope
clinging to it
lest it slip and fall
and though dim it is
she still believes
it can bring some light
and touch some souls
That’s what she has
her feet of clay
but come what may
she will forever
have faith
in her fairy ray.
My Santa sack was filled with poop
To many this news ain’t a scoop
I’ve perfected the art
How to write about fart
I've posted about them on soup
I’ll divulge about Aunty Mable
who eats sprouts whenever she’s able
she made some sprout soup -
a vile manky gloop
then farted at the dining table
She eats sprouts for breakfast and tea
Foul gas builds up copiously
Before she lets rip
She undoes her zip
Her flatulence is legendary
The stench of foul farts Uncle’s hating
Aunt Mable he’s daily berating
With the build-up of gas
that’s expelled from her a ss
their duvet’s always levitating
Inspired by a friend who is always bursting with blueberry goodness
01/08/22
What makes us giggle uncontrollably
What triggers this reaction emotionally
If there's a cure
Don't want it for sure
Really love all the drooling quite copiously
A transcendental splendor in sepia hues,
spreads it’s woody arms across a nomadic river;
leaves of cinnamon and amber dog the landscape,
as long spectral limbs stretch to golden beams.
Here lay serenity, a breath of neutrality;
tranquility in verdigris-amber glow.
A spark of Gaia’s soul in copper caress
reflects upon the significance of its’ existence.
The river’s constitutional seems unending;
it bends and winds its’ way among tall sentinels.
It generously bestows life to passers-by
offering up itself copiously.
A supernal entity is the woodland.
3-19-2021
ALL YOURS (Mar 20) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
The grave of life stories
on the shoulder of flying shrewd hawk
As a worshipper of nature
I enjoy it copiously in excellent scientific inventions.
All through dazzling scientific junctions
I forget life is short living.
The universe would live in an ancient savage natural world
if like my narrow thoughts, the reverend scientists would think
To me- life is short, and art is long
But to the creative scientist- the whole of me in wrong
A creative life is a valuable part of the universe
But lazy life is a narrow-minded pulse
So, let's leave the perverted thoughts of life
Be creative, avoiding all illative believing strife
-09.12.2020 Chattogram
My beloved Coroline,
her spirit lies in myrtle grove ;
shrouded in white,
no inch , or millimeter does she move,
Oh my sweet Coroline.
My beloved Coroline,
Forgotten if I were to be, in agony so dire
to see you one more time, I pine..
I dally and tarry, I tire..
Oh my sweet Coroline.
My beloved Coroline,
wake up from your sepulcher,
forever you promised to be mine,
Copiously I doth yearn for ye..
Oh my sweet Coroline
My beloved Coroline,
where hast thou gone,
I long to see your brilliant shine,
you art my sweet sweet home,
Oh my sweet Coroline.
My beloved Coroline,
I doth remember our promise,
your voice were as sweet as vine,
Oh my sweet tempered Coroline,
forevermore yours Valentine.
At the darkest hour of night
Before night shadows
Steal across the wall of darkness
Into the welcoming hands of dawn;
As with defecting soldiers
At Korea's demilitarized zone
With my spoke,
I stoked the fire
Sending it's glamorous flame
Spiraling, hissing, revolving and tumbling
Like a million ocean waves,
Unraveling itself in its splendor;
Surging, splurging and lunging forward
Like a roaring lion
Seeking to subdue it's helpless prey
We encamped around the fire
At the village ilo
Titled men of Onicha ugbo,
Telling tales of valor
To psyche themselves
To the point of equilibrium
As men saturated in a binge
Of snuff, kola-nut and red bull,
With eyes of fire,
Await words of armistice
From Ukwunzu village
Drenched in the momentous suspense
Characterized by the uncertainty and promise
Which sneak in with dawn
As night tired limbs,
Like a ship gliding through
A voluptuous Ocean,
Navigates the unwinding path of darkness,
Devouring it copiously,
Seeking with desperation
To berth at dawn's
Promising shores
Our despair turns to fear,
Fear begets ambivalence
And uncertainty translates
To aspirations for
Dawn's hopeful uhuru
Diary Notes
Rising very early from my bed this morning
I’m stunned to see my days glowing with
The sun’s ray’s
I draw closer to pick my Bible which lies underneath
My pillow
I read copiously from the scriptures
And pray that I may be like a beautiful Harvard willow-
A righteous tree
Driving fast as I could to my office to do some consulting
I recall that in this Academic community I’m not a novice
Soon and too soon
A pair of young girls like my own biological children
Pound incessantly upon my door.
These are nice scented flowers sent from the Land Beyond
To lend morale and infuse spice to my bright morning
No they’re BBC Africa’s spies
I hold my breath at once
And scream upward to the skies
Oh poor me- Professor Gyampo
They want to take me for a gigolo.
Written by Ebenezer K N Baiden-Amissah
P O Box LG 1254, Legon, Accra Ghana
Telephone 0551468071
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