Wind circulates, lifting and flattening
an otherwise, benign, breathless world,
relying also on deeper, slowly moving
tectonics, belching foully, scattering
seas...effecting change. Seasons like Sun
rejoice and fold. An occasional comet or
meteor perhaps a compassionate
God-sent, heaven rethinking the dawdling
pace of destiny…. Man a defiant offspring,
rejecting patterns seemingly not of his own
making – good angels know better, dutifully
soothingly serving.
Categories:
foully, destiny, environment, humanity, nature,
Form: Free verse
Mediocre we need not flatter
With laurels on a cheap platter:
Hero’s Effort make a matter;
A dropped metal’s heavy clatter…
“What is right” we foully batter
And Future Foundation scatter,
When save we just can The Latter
And ensure True Victory later…
Mediocre we must not flatter:
On our clothes staining mud spatter;
Problems feed and they are fatter,
Tires allowed to be flatter...
Don’t forget FIFA’s Staunch Blatter;
No Cups to have on a platter.
Categories:
foully, celebrity, future, image, wisdom,
Form: Rhyme
From a Happening Bar
Staggered into his car
And after forty miles
Still rich in The Saved’s Smiles,
As he foully staggered out…
Against huge hopes of a lout
Of a crashing incident
If not a killing accident…
A character people hyped:
A wrong name on the lists typed;
One needing to stand erect
Allowed ‘Star who’d direct’;
Just the magical result
That denies The Due insult…
Who has Charles overrated
And gifts exaggerated
And speed accelerated?
Just A Power over Beer
And maker of lingered leer
Categories:
foully, conflict, corruption, drink, integrity,
Form: Rhyme
As a hurting song is being sung,
At a white polo shirt is flung
What can have been a cow’s dung
And on same it foully clung
And on a nearby face hung;
All a hurried indiscreet challenge
By one refusing to change,
As though it is beyond his range,
The idea pointblank strange
Or one’s denial of a sweet orange!
At last, the fastest arrangement for a detergent,
Lest victim should arrange his brother sergeant…
“Once again, the quick-to-burst temper
Proving it can with a lot tamper.
Categories:
foully, anger, brother, character, conflict,
Form: Rhyme
‘Black’ was called the kettle
But it didn’t it nettle
Nor its relaxed mind unsettle…
‘Black’ foully flung at the kettle,
Almost as a test of its mettle
And an order to order soapy Dettol
But also a bold try give the fatal:
Some grisly violence occasion the pot
Guiltily The Blacker on every spot…
But Amiable kettle considered this not,
Feud- Loving spectators denying blows hot!
Categories:
foully, abuse, analogy, betrayal, conflict,
Form: Rhyme
As a lovely lotus, holding her head high, dooms to fade…
So is the fate of which damn degradation does invade!
When the angel of democracy murdered and muted,
Could politics provide people protection well suited?
When disruption of home and strife for living grow thriving,
Doesn't, like corroding steel, society go riving?
When caste, color, creed, and sects, like Rock walls, true growth obstruct,
Could we, midst so solid strife, succeed culture to construct?
Aren't riches, fading flowers, if fail to face poverty?
Could when hunger sky-scrapes, humans dream of joys plenty?
Who can save religions from fermenting fatality,
When, they shift from soul-strengthening spirituality?
When the air, water, soil, hills, vales... get wholly polluted,
Could the environment escape getting foully afflicted?
When inner harmony, easily, by changes challenged,
Could capture of pride by shame be so easily balanced?
Every sphere needs to move in so sequential symphony,
If not, could all live in life-casting cosmic harmony?
03 October 2021
This or That, Vol 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
foully, culture, environment, political, religion,
Form: Couplet
What wafting of wisdom! Such saccharine sound!
Deft diction’s depictions, opaque and profound!
So ruminants rumble and mumble and seek
To mine out much marrow, obtuse and oblique.
My constant conundrum’s more crude and perverse:
I strive not to retch at such wretched non-verse.
Fair finery flops if its form foully flows:
Each clash, pull, and smash smells of emperor’s clothes.
You poets who pass pompous prose off as poem,
Go home!
Categories:
foully, funny, humor, humorous, poems,
Form: Light Verse
Moans echo across the lands
from the souls who are lost
drifting, searching, seeking
forever doomed to exile.
Some brought down in their prime
foully murdered by sharpened steel
plunged into them with hatred.
Or maybe by plain greed.
Soldiers killed in needless wars
all for the rape of the innocent.
Governments hungry for more
oil, gold and other things.
Yes too, the souls of creatures
many now extinct voice their
sorrow with despairing moans.
That echo into our minds and hearts.
Mingling together they strike fear
that judders in our very being.
As we huddle in our beds shivering
knowing it is us who caused this damage
Categories:
foully, animal, death, soldier, sorrow,
Form: Verse
An inhalation consumes the wet weight of fog,
anxiety bathes in its dampness, dissolving, destitute,
inhaling the salt of rampant sea as it roars, angrily
consuming the more human pace of breath to disgorge
the wetness of heartbreak upon the cheek of maiden lost.
Weight the plight of deed most foully done to sea
of fog, a gift of blurring bloodied memories, oh open
an edge of froth, of film, of see, step in the lea, fall down,
inhale the ocean’s deep, caress the life bay found,
consume and be consumed, die and be reborn, again
the wet weight of the womb composed of fog.
Categories:
foully, death,
Form: Free verse
Hello! my dear bad mind...................
I am not with You
I am being, ever and anon, misguided,
misled, misrepresented and
even badly cheated
made me bind to undergo
utmost slavery
in regions
where I never
expected myself to be so.
I know your best friend
who is?
keenly the same
but have with refinement,
very sharp
trying to bow down me
foully by any means
that's Your own
the bad intelligence.
For, I warn you both,
if I survive you will
if I die you too
there’s no excuse.
You both
keep with me
to live alive
if not
will be beaten
my conscience speaks to.
Categories:
foully, imagination
Form: I do not know?