Drabness Poems

spring into it

Spring semester has started.
We’re all immersed in the ritual of change
and totally committed to that descent into madness
to the relentless drabness, the flatness, the blandness
for the hours, days and weeks of study
and a bone-deep fatigue that’s actually funny

We’ll live at the edge of intensity
near the the corner of drudging
and gather around the printer
at the media center
like a secular rite of passage

I think I need a daily grind—to keep my mind busy.
What’s wrong with me, that when I’m on vacation, I miss it?
What if work/study is one of my bone-marrow-deep love languages?
.
.
Songs for this:
Happy Dreamer by Laid Back
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
(You're Better) Than Ever by illuminati hotties

What will it cost

I can't really think of a number.? If seems almost irrelevant
Now.' It well might be? plus twenty million, if the lawyers
Get involved? anyhow.' For giving wrong terms to your
Prisoner out of 'context and reason' to boot.' Punished
Unduly on 'a nations behalf i can think only? oh shoot.!! By the way.' Do all agree
its un-wanted; outrageous??. Well its time
To get talking and stand.' sending your emails in blizzards, throughout all.. And every part of the land'
Now today' this undue punisment of Tommy.' It Could be
One of your own sons; can you see? Oh and just b t w.! I'm sure he'd
Wecome support; from of, the whole Commonwealth family! from its length
And its breadth may i say.? For its this mothers son at
The moment.' Held in contempt of humanitys better ways' Can you hear me in Oz and NZ? Even Canada??
Or no matter how far away? throw now, all weight behind
Freeing someone, who desired a life just better, in his days.'
He's no coward, no offender to children! Yet suffers bad
Karma most quyeer' Now get him out from the
Drabness of prison, into the light; into the freedom of a life with no fear.!

Tribute To Sheila

Sheila was blowsy, frowsy, frumpish, dowdy.
matching her unkempt messy, sloppy abode.
gone to seed, meanies said in a nasty way.
we kids saw through Sheila’s shabby drabness.
she was entertaining and fun, and she liked children.
best of all, she had a good heart and terrific stories.
meanies could not even dream of this personality for themselves.

Grandma's Vase

Grandma’s Vase

I remember the old yellow vase
that grandma kept on the kitchen table
she filled it each day with flowers she cut
from the beds in the backyard garden

in spring it held purple hyacinths
Filling the house with their sweet perfume
She called them nature’s air freshener
Their sweet scent would linger for days

Summer brought the exquisite roses
with delicate petals of velvet red
the queens of the garden grandma called them
reigning over their garden realm

Autumn supplied cheerful marigolds
in brilliant shades of yellows and orange
The clowns of the garden she would announce
Bringing cheer to the drabness of fall

The holly berry and evergreen
her favorites to fill the old vase
were reminders to her Christmas was near
The most wonderful time of the year

I have grandma's old yellow vase now
 And I fill each day with fresh flowers
It sits in the center of my kitchen table
A sweet reminder of my grandma

Still Your Date, Dear Jude

Be happy 
For the peace of mind
Be scrappy
And celebrate to go blind 
Of the joy you've find

Never permit 
The drabness in your situation
Never admit 
It could stoke up your reason's activation 
To drive home happiness for there is no permanent situation 

Be glad
For in life exist CHANGE
Be mad
To try cover up in range 
That people wonder greatly; how strange? 

Keep the fun glooming
Which braces your ways
Keep the emotion flourishing 
Twist of ways to enjoy your days 
And hope all wishes aren't mere says 

The assurance ranting in you
Is enough to keep you moving 
The precious flow of your muse ever new
Is enough to keep you inking... 
And get the world whirling . .. 

No doubt 
Can delay the glory 
No cutout
Can stop the lorry
To all threat, is a big sorry

In Christ 
Rest your success
In tryst 
Rest your redress
Just choose right and be not stressed 

Shine bright
It's still your day... Jude Chukwu

Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá cares...

Ritual Unique

To a learned philosopher
Or to a logical thinker
The gesture of this lone lady
Wrapping linens around this tree
Might look like a modern madness
Or drabness rooted on slackness...
Only one with a heart love-filled
Could feel her longing unfulfilled
Bearing children; rearing gladly
Owing barrenness, stilled sadly
She, hence, prays to this banyan tree
Age-old sign of fertility
To make her life absolute whole 
And fill with gladness, her sad soul…


31 January 2022

Hey, Unwelcome Monotony

Hey, unwelcome monotony...
my moods are darker than the Squawk's melody;
all the swans have deserted the nearby pond...
will another thunder shake trees and ground, 
making the rest of the huddled geese in grief
flee to a calmer and more peaceful reef?

Do I want to weep as trees do hearing flowers complain...
remembering the lulling breeze of the sunniest day?
Do I wish to bring back each joy lost to the boring rain?
Nothing is lovely behind this window so foggy and deary! 

Hey, unwelcome monotony
don't be more unbearable than loneliness;
clouds bring rain and with them drabness,
can anyone find inspiration in insipid beauty?

Do I dream of valleys beneath mountains,
put up a tent and watch with starry eyes a twinkling sky;
lest I fall asleep and miss shouting stars...
those stars that never collide with hearts 
that remain faithful to themselves and others?
Will they ever be betrayed by promises that have run dry?

Love Poem - To Life

How do I love thee...like sparkling diamonds
that promise undying magnificence, 
a sky an intricate lace gilded with stars at night, 
pulling my soul into depths of wonderment.

How do I love thee...like a garden in spring, 
flowers and vines cascading in riotous profusion, 
a fountain splashing rainbows into its pool - 
paradise blowing magic in the air.

How do I love thee... like a newborn child 
asleep in its cradle, a smile of innocence 
tugging the corners of its mouth, sweet, heart-breaking.
One wishes the moment will pause forever.

How do I love thee...like early snow falling gently, 
covering drabness on a stretch of dusty highway, 
wrapping bare trees in majestic white and elegance
and distant mountains looming in dreamy silence.

I could go on chanting and extolling praises 
of what life offers to those who seek and find
the beauty, the marvels, the miracles, the enchantment -
all these around us - and more.


@jjote 022221

Year's End

With lockdowns and fear the past year was drear.
Today it is dark and dank and dripping,
slate grey. The sun refuses to appear.
Wild winds have eased to drabness as nothing.
Winter solstice offered little of cheer
with moods of many sadly depressing.
Prospects for travelling out of our tier
are restricted; there's so much we're missing.

To get rid of the old it's time for a crap,
to get the hell out of me, flush it away.
What a relief! I feel better for that,
hoping for freedom beyond new year's day.
A world is beckoning, one without zoom,
of meeting together in the same room.

Thy Gift To Earth

In deep dark caverns flowed her lush hair
coats crystal lined caves with sunlight flare.  
The golden honey that draws a bear 
your gold flecked eyes, its color will dare.

The blue of your eyes melt in the sky, 
chasing off clouds as storms it denies; 
falls to the sea and joins the sea spray.  
Then scatters with sand, the color fades.

Your skin so light, like the moon some say,
 falls down from the sky then melts away.  
The Ice Queen isn’t so white by half 
and Snow White in dire need of a bath.

The bountiful beauty you inspire
doth grace our dear world in its attire.  
Without the accents you bring to earth, 
drabness would fall from cavern to surf.

Missing You

When you’re near me, 
the sky is no longer blue.
You’re the pink lenses
I see the world through.

When you leave me,
you take away your spell.
The drabness returns, 
making me want to yell.

Looking out the window, 
your ghost is all I see.
Strangers are standing 
where you used to be.

There’s nothing I can do, 
but to endure my pain.
This poem is not an elegy, 
and we’ll meet again.

Missing You

When you’re near me, the sky is no longer blue.
You’re the pink lenses I see the world through.

When you leave me, you take away your spell.
The drabness returns, making me want to yell.

Looking out the window, your ghost is all I see.
Strangers are standing where you used to be.

There’s nothing I can do, but to endure my pain.
This poem is not an elegy, and we’ll meet again.

Bougainvillea

Bougainvillea

Beneath the ashen cloudless sky
the rain subsided to reveal
a plant is budding from its womb
with many colors  to behold
of orange, pink and peach or white
 the cerise petals paper thin 
they cling and climb with such embrace
the sun has risen with a blush
the bougainvillea is enhanced
it shields the drabness of a sight 
of worn out fenceposts by a road
rekindling scenes of pleasant thoughts
a road where no one enters more
no one will share its glory here
as time goes by the bracts emerge
as little children huddling close
to someday grow and join their kin
and like a talisman they give
the magic only they can show
the beauty that this plant bestows

Bougainvillea Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
March 28, 2019

The Drabness of a Rainy Friday

Drabby Friday is quickly approaching,
steady raindrops are unwelcoming;
more cheerless than a fluttering robin
finding refuge in the cathedral's spires
that cannot reach the swollen clouds,
I trod the wet cobbled streets of London! 

The heavy tread of my booths
is not heard as they hit paddles,
they squish if they had holes;  
not distant from me, a birch tree
has fallen showing its dirty roots...
in its branches buzzed the Honeybee!

A harmonious sky incites joy,
ever notice the boredom of a boy?
I feel the same sadness he feels...
when he won't smile at ladies
resembling models on high heels,
and the drabness of a rainy Friday stays...
until rain tampers off and shows sunrays! 


Written on 2/23/2018

Never Look Back

Never Look Back

It was the poverty of vision that got to me, the drabness of moving
from one home to another. I wanted sunlight, not the dim light that 
shines from a basement`s kitchen window.
Fled, sought other shores.
I was not able to escape the ghost of the past; letters went unanswered.
The uncle of many children and a father of no one 
I should have stayed fought my corner from the base of the beginning. 
It is a sunny day where I live, up North snow falls, I feel a deep sadness
of the coward, yet have no regrets

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