Desire death do those with weakness,
For present circumstances.
To climb the face of life is meekness:
Behold all of God’s chances.
With calloused hands in deep gray nooks, it’s meek to climb.
To rest is one step next to death,
Not rest from work, but rest to dwell
In furlongs of failures, for faith is forgiven.
Because these burdens bring expectations
No earthly man nor woman could fell.
So, lest the hungry rocks below be fed,
Grapple north! Nerve lazy ligaments!
Long not nervous eyes on bottom bed,
Gripping vocal chords cry loud instruments!
Like the slimy kinds of wriggling worm
Is rottenness inside our being,
Oh, I am most aware.
Bite lying tongues and spring new form
By blood (the Spirits bringing)
‘Fore Heaven’s royal chair.
He purposed you to not dwell and fall
And spite His gift He gives for all,
Nor long loathe innard selfish stall
That kills again all-died-for men.
Hoist those bones and pray- amen.
Categories:
furlongs, christian, gospel, strength, suicide,
Form: Free verse
Two ... two zero countless nautical yards
Too, too many miles
time transversed thru the oceanic space continuum
Almost four hundred years of a Middle Passage journey
nears an end ...
Signaling the beginning of the reckoning
But, for the laboring chained souls,
no work furlough was ever given
Only a Middle Passage to hell,
that was paved in greed ... profit driven
A hard, stony passage thru the fire,
and only by God’s grace do we the remnant
still live
Infant lips pressed to heaved breasts ...
Hallelujah hands uplifted to express
the many harrowing escapes along the way
Oral records of innumerable braveheart
acts of heroism
Sadly, also too, too many furlongs
of forlorn sunken cries in the watery swallows
Tragic tears salt the perilous path
of a people deemed terrible from their beginning hitherto
Unleashed from captivity ... forever,
the lions of antiquity
roar unfettered strong
Having survived
the treacherous, confining storms
of many furlongs
Categories:
furlongs, perspective, slavery, truth, wisdom,
Form: Dramatic Verse
This morning’s run began so benign and gentle,
Yet 15 minutes later deep feelings were unhinged,
Confused, I recalled my latest meals,
Whilst my insides were impinged.
Aghast, I sensed the futility,
Of my plight against this ongoing urge,
With jalapeno pizza making itself heard,
From the inside there came the surge.
Now time was of the essence,
Yet speed of movement constrained,
The last few furlongs were in angst,
As the feelings barely waned.
Thoughts waivered to hideous options,
On the beach there were few souls about,
If this continues to get much worse,
I may have to leave behind my own brown stout!
Alas I made my entrance home,
Victoriously casting the bathroom door aside,
This moment had been forever in the making,
Yet now all was forgiven, as the foulness did but glide.
Categories:
furlongs, humor,
Form: I do not know?
Stars were winking on the sky
and it was a surreal night
spring was caressing the sweet air
the aura was in flair.
We walked a few furlongs side by side
said everything in silence as we did stride
then time came to say goodbye
again we said nothing but only smiled.
My heart was beating high, and bosom was uptight
I bet you felt that vibes right
Was it crush or love? hard to opine
but my feeling was peerless,
like a child playing with snowflakes in early sunshine.
I wish you all the best my friend
hoping this is not the end
and we would meet again, may be on the bank of the Volga
or in a forest where the wind blows away leaves from aspens.
Categories:
furlongs, farewell, love,
Form: Rhyme
MAN O' MAN, kiss thy maiden for the
night
Seek compassion on thy beloveth lass;
Years did trespass whilst you tarry in
flight,
Time did seize each moment a night
do pass.
On cedar trees I sit and wait by dawn,
In await due for thy home-ward
drawn.
Furlongs away from my succulent thigh
Distance away from my tender warmth
frame,
My heart in fright b'neath my breast:
Fear is nigh,
Pulsation rise 'long; I whisper thy
name.
I whisper from the tallest tree in sight
I whisper; no reply to my worn plight.
Many a time thy name I utter low
Christening thy name; stir my voice
round wind,
Hamm'ring thy name the wind did aid
a blow
Sublime to rend t'wards you my heart
and mind.
Sing on my muse, my cymbal and my
lute,
Sing to my lover; he hearkens in mute.
BY: OSUJI CHIBUEZE (PEN NAME: CHIBZ
OBSERVER)
Categories:
furlongs, lost love
Form: ABC
the season-change of the vagrant pole-star easily picks up a sip
from the list of ducks of the night-watchers
standing on the bye-lane of the horse-race … by the weight of the confession made
by the spelling-mistakes of a moonlit night to the lotus-leaves … the amputated
tongues of the night-bulbs gradually rolls down to the banyan-pods of the side-characters
the sharp archer of the star-apple moves away some furlongs from the usual
word-stairs and swallowed a whole grammar with fumes by spoon
thus with the number of velocity-poems that the punjabi with boutique prints
can produce… or will produce … gluttonous flower-vase of the magic-painter
can make cool the slaughter-ground … spread to the horizons of the krishnachura
that is deviated from its own track
Categories:
furlongs, fantasy
Form: Prose Poetry