Gins Poems | Examples

Hiku: spring begins its reign

it's no longer  l~~o~~n~~g~
               the patient  w—a—i—t  for your  s*m*i*l*e  
                    
                          spring warmth  f
                                                        i
                                                          l
                                                           l
                                                             s   the  ~a~~i~~r~

                    the  r•a•i•n•s  start  to
                                                 d
                                                 r
                                                 o
                                                 p~

               after   h—o—u—r—s   of
                              o~v~e~r~c~a~s~t

                      spring   b
                                         e
                                              gins  its  r*e*i*g*n










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Beyond

He climbed to the top of a tall cypress tree
All his fertile countryside world he could see
His father’s fields, neighbor’s houses, and kin folk’s, too
For seventeen years, the only world he knew

College and military brought changes galore
Stretched his knowledge and character even more
In hindsight, realizes how far he has come
From those years on that South Carolina farm

To be localized has rewards and blessings
Gives life a simpler pace though sometimes boring
Keeping close to family, neighbors, and friends
Building memories that linger long within

Yet, far  beyond those familiar childhood walls   
He found healthy growth in academic halls
Taught to be a man by military aid
Great character builders that will never fade

So much was gained through seminary studies
Treasures that have guided him like a ship’s rudder
Learned to serve others with care and compassion
To be grateful to God for His redemption

This man will never know what  life might have been
Had he remained in his country boyhood den
Now, he’s glad and  satisfied to have found and gained
More life beyond those dirt fields and cotton gins

The Business of Autumn

The Business of Autumn 
David J Walker

1.	The season of dry clouds and Canada Geese
        Arrived over the weekend

2.	The weatherman says the freeze was 
        too light last night to have been noticed 

3.	A frost is in the forecast but rescheduled 
        for some other tomorrow 

4.	The full moon demands homage 
        deserving its observations 

5.	before the sun sets 
        on another harvest

6.	The farms have formed seas of 
        ripe corn and white cotton  

7.	bordering a thousand small towns 
        in every direction

8.	allergens release in the winds the
        invisible seeds of misery 

9.	The last days and nights of the whine of  
        cotton gins bailing good fortune

10.	The business of autumn comes to an end
        On the fairway of a county fair

11.	The next rain will be cold and will
        Hold its verdict … Ice or snow…
        until after Thanksgiving

Santas Considered Opinion

Santa’s in lockdown, he’s not very happy
The reindeer are restless and now getting scrappy
The elves are all sitting and nibbling their nails
The sleigh is just sat there, no wind in its sails

So Christmas is gone, it’s this year’s last day
He sits all alone in the back of the sleigh 
He’s had a few gins so whilst it’s not wise
He’s taking her up... if she still flys

He hitches the sleigh to the reindeer and sighs
As they gallop away into overcast skies
He looks back behind him and briefly he lingers
To give twenty twenty two stiff middle fingers

Resuscitation

the death inside
of me tried to
become alive

my jaws of life
screamed not
to let it free

tranquil from
another pill
bartender

what's a good
mix with this
martini well

stirred
preferred
but i'm sure

you'll be
shaken
once

again when
the olive's
skin be

gins to release
the gin from
underneath

the second
time around

i'd like a third

Let Us Hit the Road

I say, let’s hit the road,
when it’s nice and cold. 
I’m a single woman,
I scream alone in my room, 
with no cat, no kid, no hubby;
I don’t sweep much with my broom. 

I say let’s hit the road, 
when it’s nice and cold. 
I ain’t getting any high, 
with men hitting on my supply. 
I need no gins and tonics,
as I am my own drink, 
baby I am naturally high and it’s chronic.


I say, 
let’s hit the road, 
when it’s nice and cold. 
When the sky was trying out dresses, 
in various shades , 
I sat on that road,
under the sky.. thinking , 
What the hell? 
And then a big car comes, 
they stopped aside to take a dump. 
I looked at them , they looked at me
as if I was some kind of a skunk. 
They came and asked, hey babe waddap ?
I answered..continue your ****, punks ! 

I said, 
let’s hit the road 
before my brains get soar ! 
.

The Dour-Glower

The dance of the dilettantes hasn't many steps.
It isn't meant to be remembered, nor to cause upset;
it's simply meant to get us through, like breakfast spent in bed.
It gives us comfort just to know our words have just been read.

And if a noble Dour-Glower 'gins to shake his head,
that's just fine and dandy, we'll tuck him safe and sound,
and read to him instead ---

Once, I met a Dour-glower walking through an orchard
"How dare they call you apple trees;
you're only whisps of bark!
You haven't many leaves,
and you're little more than seeds!
You think you're special with your flowers,
yet I've never seen you fruit!" screamed the Dour-glower.

What could the saplings do?
All of it was true.
They couldn't drop their leaves,
nor tear apart their petals.

But as the Dour-glower took his leave,
the sun above shone true.
The soil of the field was just as sweet
and craddled every root.

The Seventh Child

But I walk along.
Forte to my cause.
A fort of strength…
Militarily built -
     Therefore, must be militarily defeated.
Many say I am a buyout -
     Too much intelligence to decipher.

No lack of esteem that can be embraced maybe a confrontation to face.
Personification of knowledge is an individual’s acumen ginned.
Gen by a rite of passage to quest for greater things.
Malachia is her name.

Anyone that desires the sanity of righteousness is a reformer.
A trial and purpose they have formed.
Strong suited to develop structure.
Strong points are shared prolifically.
A talent acquisitionist carries the scrolls.
A role player and leader at the podium.

Mississippi born and a Mississippian raised…
Acumen gins - informed by knowledge nowadays.

But I walk along.
Forte to the cause.
A fort of strength growing stronger!
Military built –
     Thus, never militarily defeated.
Only a buyout prevails –
     Cipher cannot be unconcealed  or revealed.
___________________________________________________________________|
Written April 1, 2016!

My Home Town-F

The county seat,  a place of humidity and musical beats. 
After many years, I decided to revisit my hometown,
Hoping to walk down memory lanes of warm treats,                                         To visit my oldest brother and old friends still around.
                                                                                                 
Known by many as the birthplace of the blues.
It’s where my folks purchased my first pair of shoes.
Where I first experienced talking from a phone booth.

Where I watched my first movie on the big screen;
Where I experienced my first barbershop;
Where I received my first real job;
Where I ate at my first restaurant.

Thirty years ago, I moved 2,000 miles away.
A popular street corner, fourth & Issaquena.
Cotton gins and cotton bails.
Yes, cotton was crowned king.

There was only room for one king and one throne.
And the ruler ship of queens was virtually unknown.
There were the king and the cash; and if there were queens,                       they would be beneath the king and his cash, and nowhere in between.
I tell you, everything and everyone bowed to king cotton, even queens.
06262015 cj

She

/tang led /co coon /hea vy /with in /this shell
/I can /feel the /fall ing /whisp ers /out side
/it calls /and i /list en, /per haps /too well
/the door /is op /ened I /can not /hide

/And she /pulls me /out with /Si rens /song
/the air /hea vy /with her /lur ing /grace
/I know /my qui /et wall /will not /last long
/As she /lays her /lips up /on my /face

/we em /brace, she /soft ly /sur rounds /me
/in her /grasp i /feel more /a live /than ever
/The air /gent ly /sighs /"I'll set /you free"
/I a /gree, though /it wont /last for /ever

/Her touch /be gins to /fade with /the sun
/and my /mo ment /in the /rain is /done


Tangled cocoon heavy within this shell
I can feel the falling whispers outside
it calls and I listen, perhaps too well
the door is opened I can not hide

And she pulls me out with Sirens song
the air heavy with her luring grace
I know my quiet wall will not last long
As she lays her lips up on my face

we embrace, she softly surrounds me
in her grasp I feel more alive than ever
The air gently sighs "I'll set you free"
I agree, though it wont last forever

Her touch begins to fade with the sun
and my moment in the rain is done

Awaking

I look straight through the pane,
and see the floating veins of branches, naked and sometimes in full bloom.

Behind this the national flag flaps away, raised by the good vicar's son, he used to be a lawyer, by the way, he likes to preach.

Always a jumbo in the distance,
to remind of the present days,
watches, phones and passports,
knocking back the gins, cruising above my bed.

The upstairs lot, have moved in,
and flush constantly,
the ubiquitous siren wails in the distance.
Time to emerge now, wallet, scarf and keys at the ready.

Sold Souls

Satan comes along one day.
Want some GOLD and much HAY.
Corruption grips the blood like lead.
More gold over bodies of the dead.
Lusts created by man's idle time.
Not knowing God, with many gins & limes.
Filling the heart with misery.
Soon your life is a bent over tree.
All the gold, filtered with crimes.
On, JUDGMENT DAY, away with the slime.

2007 from 8Hop.com
search: POEWHIT

JESUS SAVES

You Know Who We Are

You know who we are. 

We're with you everyday, 
We're from the ghettos, the project buildings 
the neighborhoods with low incomes

You know who we are

We're considered in society as the minority, 
yet we're the majority in poverty, 
the 16th president constituted abomination 
for the sins of those whose skin is pale, 
still we're slaves to an American economy, 
who blames our new generations 
for the contamination of the crack sale,

You know who we are
We're college graduates, 
we have High school degrees 
we're doctors, lawyers, sergeons and teachers 
we're diplomats, philosophers, ordained as preachers

We're American, African 
players of Uncle Sam's past time

concieved in the Nile, raised along the Potomac 
sold by our own, for collateral and material, 
we're the New World's history, 
workers of cotton gins, fighters for rights

You know who we are

*******, black, 
beautiful as the dawnless night

It Was In September

I feel the hand of the invisible smothering my skin
The rule Maker up in the sky 
Lull my heart of a better tomorrow
With a make-belief smile i retorted 
But the departure of grandpa
In September drained me
If my head is sitting well on my neck
And if the birds still build nest on my head
It was in the September
That a pack of owls  invaded our hut
I was just boy in those days
But i could decipher a woman from a girl
So i was not a boy
But please don't tell papa
Lest he will invoke his iron fist on my coconut head
Maybe, he has coconut head also
Pattering feet all in the farm
Aunt and i contesting a bowl of eba
Suddenly, the rain began
It was the rain that ruined and rent my heart
Watching him groaning
Watching him beckoning for help
In a sharp glance, i look into the sky
Does the  rule Maker care ?
I moved swiftly into my room
Emerging with a machete
To fight death
But the dreaded monster left with grandpa
It was in September
Today, i stood before his tomb
With gins, ginger, garlic, and black goat, and cowrie
Last night he requested for all these in my dreams
Because there is famine and economic crunch were he stays.

Musa's Death

An hour ago
At the embassy
Fleets of steels sighing
Protracted protocols prying
Exodus of seekers of greener pastures murmuring
Hanging hangars rusting and resting
Busy bees bullying deterioration
Officials posses with officialdom
Cabs crowing
Heads heavy with thoughts
Eyes lacerated with tears
Wives in sack-cloths
Sympathizers gulped down dry gins
As the blue bird landed from the air,
The remnant of his remains
Descended from above
Musa,
Butchered in the street of London

Awoh Awoh

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