Submitted for the alliterisen poem contest hosted by
Joseph May
Hurting hearts need tender touches
Sweet whispered words and compassionate care
Patient pauses loving looks
Devoted dressings with gentle jests
Helpful hands for broke bones
From morning's mist to night's nesting
Woundings wane as loving lingers
Words
standing alone
appear with
memories
conditioned in
imagined time~
the empty word
fully clothed
with dressings
of difference~~
Manifesting thee-
thou new December,
let joy and peace be
the last month's ember.
Glowing from the fire
of chances and luck,
taken as a trier,
by hearty risk, buck!
I lay dead alive,
in high anxiety,
on how to survive,
not by my piety.
One thing, I know of-
is my faith's prowess,
holding up above
emotional cuss.
That would sink grievance,
of chance not taken,
driving luck's deviance
to reawaken...
Good luck and fortune,
repairing this year
wornout misfortune,
not to reappear,
But bring on blessings...
meant for this year's grace,
out of gloom's dressings,
running out of chase.
Amen!
One day, you will surely live reality;
Wake up to the glimpse of actuality-
Cool, staring at the blessings...
Worries made up for dressings*
You always dream about in anxiety!
No need to fear, in fact thank God.
It’s Friday the 13th under attack.
There is self-control in not blowing your stack.
No need to fear, in fact, thank God.
Steer away from the charms, not the blessings.
There’ll be no purpose for medical dressings.
No need to fear, in fact thank God.
There might be reasons, under a ladder, not to walk.
You could cause a fall. No save for three-times-knock.
No need to fear, in fact thank God.
Why is faith so hard for humanity?
Why instead try, so hard, for insanity?
No need to fear, in fact thank God.
A ditty to my titty
There you are upon my chest
You used to be the boob I loved best
But now all you do is cause me grief
I just need a moments relief
But you would rather swell and cause me pain
Make my skin itch again and again
This journey so far , has been too long
I’m starting to think we don’t belong
To add insult to injury there’s a wound that won’t heal
I’m forced to wear dressings-I’m sick of this deal!
This wound has ruined nearly all of my bras
I think this issue has gone too far!!
Now my skin is attacking me
Itch itch scratch scratch
please just let me be!!
So here it is- a ditty to my titty
I beg you please- stop being so ty
The closet, once crammed with the styles of youth,
holds not so much as a coat hanger.
Dents in the carpet are the only evidence
that a bed, dresser, and nightstand filled the room.
The frilly window dressings and wall art are gone. The truth
weighs heavily on my heart; my sense of loss is intense
as I gaze through tears at the emptiness.
Five years ago, just down the hall, I stood in a room
stripped bare of furniture, clothing, and all hints
of the masculinity that had thrived there. The gloom
set in as I visualized the weight-lifting equipment
and the “man cave” corner that was always messy.
I reminisced and pondered where the time went.
My sentiments may resonate with others
who revisit vacant spaces—the fathers and mothers
now categorized as empty-nesters, who must accept
the reality that vacant rooms are part of the
natural scheme of things; they are survivable.
Truths, as though fairy tales, I have heard so miscellany,
That her flora and fauna reveal true theophany;
Rolling and spinning lowlands with hill-like granite blessings,
Moss misty magnificently mysterious dressings;
Romantic and luring - they say - her existential look,
Brooks, rooks, and snooks are seen in every woods and water nook...!
Temperate temperature tranquilizingly tempting,
Gardens, perennial and seasonal trends preempting;
Gold old civilization on earth stands head holding high,
Awesome islands, like handsome tree-grooms standing by the sky;
To both the sons of the soil and the strangers so friendly,
Life though flows slowly, smoothes, soothes, and breathes quietness gently...!
The aroma of flowers and herbs all through wide valleys,
History mingles, merges with mystery, and tallies;
Farmers' wharves... fishermen's wharves... all such well flourish I learn,
To explore the harbor and Victoria Pier I yearn;
Enchanting, they say, Victoria's immaculate air,
Just once! Only once in my lifetime! I long to be there...!
18 December 2022
The very essence of my cells vibrate with exuberance for his love, grace, kindness, and blessings.
In conversations during the day, the creator is my roots and faith in the doctor that provides all my dressings.
An innate source residing in the heart, the center of all centers, and connected to everything.
We all as one, are here to experience, develop and expand to find your loving purpose for which angels celebrate and sing.
We all are one humble ingredient, each a drop from the eternal, an ever-expanding ocean of abundance in union with all.
There are no lines of demarcation, never a disconnection, no delineation, and never a separation, and will always answer the call.
The veil has been lifted uncovering the degradation of separation which must be eliminated.
Those dark forces that rule, manipulate, and control the masses will be uncovered and disgraced, and new positions in government will be relegated.
Approaching is our day to give thanks
For all that we have been given
Our blessings that we take for granted
Such as another day of living
Each year we get to celebrate
This day to count our blessings
Creating cheer with family and friends
Eating turkey, Pies and dressings
Reminiscing about good ole times
All of us having a good laugh
Catching up on each other's lives
As we show each other photographs
We all will come together
Some of us traveling quite a ways,
To feast, have fun and celebrate
On this Thanksgiving day.
11/24/2021
She has gleaned the bare root of her captive.
Soggy dressings fall away, dissolve on calloused feet.
No point in changing these regretful bindings now.
He tells her he understands, that he once loved her.
She is beneath his nails, in his mouth, between his teeth.
Rubber tubing snakes from his torso, head, and neck.
Pushing out the slow but steady drip of his pollution.
Seven enamel bowls are full of him and need emptying.
She wonders how this room looks to him.
Final?
Endless?
He asks to be turned, says his right side has gone numb.
She pushes a moist shoulder, and he flops squid-like onto his back.
Touching him brings sour acid bubbling into her throat.
These walls will see his last hour, his ultimate reflection.
It has been one month to the day since they first saw each other.
She will quietly count him down back to that night.
Back to his first steps towards her.
She will watch the slow stream of him until he gradually drains away.
Down to the dregs, down to residue, down to the beginning.
When the brother you care for
is led to his bed by depression;
When your special needs' son
has yet to learn patience lessons;
When your beloved elderly Mother
uses your endless love like a weapon;
When the man who has your devotion
now poses in anger-based aggression,
You may wonder if all is now testing
your belief in God's active presence.
Still, you will send your prayers up to heaven
to seek His loving signs for duration.
You may ponder if your life is as destined
or a series of wrong decision dressings.
Soon, you will likely seek faith's expression,
hold it steadfast as your best protection.
A year of this life has me anxiety clasped
by things I never even meant to catch.
.
The universe is not safe anymore,
As people lives in fear,
Yesterday killing, today raping,
And tomorrow, who knows what comes next?
Our women overwhelmed with fear,
Being harassed everyday,
Domestic violence is not left out.
Women are also human.
Five minutes of enjoyment for men,
Lifetime sadness for the women.
What a wicked world !
Women are also human.
Awareness and education.
Indecent dressings,
Assaultive speech to men, must be curbed.
Parental factor, also important.
Both parties,
Men and women, are at fault.
My sincere condolence to the victims.
Let's say no to rape.
Alimi Abdulkabir's Poetry
We wore our meri blouses
And on stilts built our houses…
We carried our bilums so beautiful
And custom dressings so very colourful.
We wore our island dresses
And displayed our art in richness…
We played our native string-band
And drew creative designs on sand.
We wore our dark sulus
And brown costumes not too loose…
We had high standards of fashion sense
And portrayed our crafts so immense.
We wore our shell necklaces
And a smile on our pretty faces…
We proudly exhibited our pan-piping
And were famous for our musical singing.
We wore our Caledonian dresses
And straw hats with leaves of freshness…
We spoke in our native francophone
And laid out our valuable money in stone.
So much vast diversity in culture
And numerous traditions needing nurture…
So much customs unique in many ways
Being revived and exposed these 14 days.
Though we were faced with many challenges
We have overcome for much further voyages…
PNG, Vanuatu, Fiji, Solomon & New Caledonia –
Still one and still celebrating the values and spirit of our Melanesia.
I dread the winter's coming on
The trees without their dressings
I fear the winter's dark, cold moan
Long shadows without blessings
Bare tree limbs are upward reaching
Where the sunlight seems to fail
I hear the sound of great owls screeching
Trees look like witch”s fingernails
I hate the cold that winter brings
Dark, dank weather for each day
It seems as if I'll never sing
Or see again sun's lovely rays
My body aches and hollow feels
Furnace and fireplace are roaring on
But to me they don't seem real
No heat can reach into my bones
Oh, winter will you last so long
With dreary rain and colder mist
Oh, how I wish that you were gone
And Spring would put on me it's kiss
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