Glass,
traps
one spark
in the ferns,
spirits of the dead,
tethered above the wet creek bed,
guiding the departed through the mangrove roots tonight.
They hover in the liminal space between the living and the silent wet bush graves.
We did not know we caught a wandering spirit alive, glowing with the pale green light of someone trying to find their way through the gully.
Unscrewing the cold rim of the glass I watched the little ancestor crawl out across my thumb to hesitate a moment in the damp night air before heading upwards into the canopy towards the guiding southern stars.
The opening poem of the day is presented.
While some individuals aspire to wealth, others find fulfillment in different dreams. Personally, I feel I’ve paused my dreaming.
As a member of Generation X, I embrace a unique and modern perspective.
I recall a moment from my sixteenth year when I stood on that cliff, gazing over the gully. It inspired me to reflect on my life, viewing challenges, rejections, and feelings of inadequacy about my professional potential as steppingstones to growth.
I dedicated 28 years to a job that tested my spirit, sacrificing my own mental health so my daughters could pursue their dreams. In doing so, I empowered them to chase their aspirations, passing the torch of my dreams to them.
I stand at a pivotal moment in my life, reflecting on my journey.
Have I made the right choice?
Am I truly satisfied with my decisions?
I envision breaking through barriers that seek to quiet my voice.
To silence one voice is to shut down a conversation.
My final lines… finding growth after changing course.
Dancing with the stars
Some swirl
Toes curl
Once upon a time, dancing
Hully
Gully
Also, dancing
The twist
Get gist
Size matter in some dances
The bump
Big rump
Now adays
Hip hop
Don't flop
After Darth Vader danced with Ella, she became Mrs.
Ella
Vader
The We in THEY
the I in MI
The Uno Number One
it who talked about
it's all about them
It you It's me
it's us
THE WHOLE THING!
-----------------------------------------
Kiss me One hundred times
call me your man....Hold up!
We looking for Bookings and Dates!
What ya'll wanna hear?
What we gonna sing!
Inspiration and motivation
might money do it's thing!
Lemonade in the shade
That's right my Freind
we wanna get paid!
Music we got that!
Style that aint but ah thing!
We gonna write song beautiful Lyrics
get right when we sing!
ooh's in the right place
verse and chorus on track
Doo wee whoomp
whoompah ditty doo that!
Leader of the Band
Star of the show
Backgrounds forgrounds
Lady let me know!
Kiss me One Hundred times.
Hold me close
Say your mine.
We goona say this one more time
Money will get us there!
----------------------------------------
Tis:Tis, that: that
I'm what you want
Me: that's where it's at!
Backbeat thats neat
Shuffle feel
see thats real
Justifacation of his ACTS
Gully washer
Buckeroo
Call me We got
all that!
Alligators with stiff necks and jaws
Boars roaming and munching without trimmed claws
Cats that nap all the time
Dogs that snap overtime
Elephants of trumpet, splash and bow
Foxes gekker, gnash and chow
Goats that rap, blitz and bleat
Hares hop with furs so neat
Iguana with spikes and protective tail
Jaguars of the cat world that rarely wail
Kiang of the wild and meadows
Loris of the night without pillows
Mongoose of bravery and viper's nemesis
Nandu of strong femoris
Olms of the cave and false mimesis
Pikas of the puff world
Quokka of the smiley world
Red fox of historical Ethiopia
Storks that bring luck in utopia
Tapirs of animated and mythical world
Uakari of the New World
Vicuna of long eyelashes
Wallaby, big foot of dashes
Xeme of the gully world
Yarri of the lost world
Zebras that play chess and checkers
Animals of the nutty world
Carnivals of naughtiness
Festivals of display and vivaciousness
Intestinal relief of the blessed world
(Prosebite)
It was a soft rain -- yes, I stated soft,
for rain has many texture -- some even
color. Imagine a spectrum-brush dragged
across a well wetted, primed sky, which
muted technical, dully call~ a Rainbow.
It was a long anticipated rain:
Saguaro Sentinels weary, dryly
on guard -- bristled their natural pins and needles
A night, of many, thirsty
dark folds, imbibing deeply:
Desert craving saturation --
Just beyond the dawn tomorrow
if not for some minor residue dew
the blessing will again be entirely gone --
witness the browning green hint of
a brief gully front lawn --
Cloudburst, furious flood
Damaging drains, soiled soil
Erosion, gully, death.
Boiling mad torrent
Sweeping, digging, dragging.
All unto the stage
where the earth
swallowed the hearth
Leaving in its wake a dearth
of life.
Turbulence in the Ocean
from the macabre
dance of debris and dirt
Burying the rock in the muck.
Yet amid the chaos
a new life begins
with passion and pain.
Culled from "Echoes of the Savannah" © Makinde Adebayo ADENIYI, 2024
(“Corpus Callosum”, 2017, original encaustic)
Reverse Osmosis of Life
It’s a two way street
The way reality exists
Divided into truth on one side
And illusion’s delusions the other,
And yet the most fascinating aspect
Is the membrane that exists between the two
A membrane of I don’t know what,
But which I’m sure the ancients had a name for,
Which divides, insulates and yet connects
And filters through cosmic osmosis
The personal and transpersonal,
Or you could say the mortal and immortal.
Sometimes I can feel the membrane at work
Seeing it even just beyond the limits of my mind’s eye
Knowing what it’s doing
As it transpires
Because I am in fact on both sides simultaneously
At least to some degree.
Everything after all is an extension
And expression of Life,
You, me, us,
In whatever forms it finds us
From refined and subtle to coarse and gross.
The other night I dreamt of being a bridge
Not a figurative one, but literally
An object with girders and cross members
Able to span a stream or gully.
It didn’t surprise me, just intrigue me
That the creative nature of the Mind
Is what it is
And in fact, is all there is.
(8/18/25)
The lily pad wanted to see some snow
She needed to travel, but where to go?
The mouth of the river had things to say
Beyond the green bridge, that is the way….
She was open to suggestions, of course.
A daughter of Zeus, niece of Thor, king of Norse
Pink sponge floated by and sprinkled on her ash
She jumped a bit, when a canoe gave a crash.
Scratch and scritch a path through the rubble
It is March, so you will not want any trouble
Or you will kill any outside chance
To cross the gully to play and dance
The lily pad listened to the frog named Paint
His eyes could pierce her soul, he liked her quaint
I want to see snow, she confided to this green man.
I am sure you can, he lied. I am sure you can.
A short walk from the road
you are deep in forest.
Tall mountain ash form
pillars that hold up space
and keep a cathedral
of shade within its walls.
High overhead, a canopy
of leaves curtain the sky
in prayerful whispers.
Tree ferns crowd a gully
where fallen giants bridge
a creek carrying a trickle
of mountain tears.
You keep your silence
not wanting to intrude
on another's grief.
Sometimes you can hear
lyrebirds perform their repertoire
of mimic song. One, they say,
can copy the sound
of a chain saw, another,
the long drawn out whine
of a siren as it races
towards a fire.
ninny nonny noose
with a neck inside
stretchy stretchy stretch
and the witch she died
golly, gallows in a gully
hanging hung in such a hurry
spell a spell a spell did she
with a bucket boiling full of tea
with which the witch survived
never never died
ninny nonny noose
no neck inside!
When the full moon rises,
and the stars start to glow.
Down to that old creek bank,
is where I like to go.
A few leaves still hanging,
shaking in the breeze.
Holding on for dear life
to them persimmon trees.
Out across the gully,
other side of the bridge.
Coon hounds hot on a trail,
just over the next ridge.
Surrounded by nature,
I am filled with delight.
Deep in these Ozark woods,
on moonlit winter nights.
A cool wind a blowing,
winter’s flurries around.
The only sound to hear,
the bawling of a hound.
Down to that old creek bank,
Is where I like to go.
When the full moon rises,
and the stars start to glow.
I’d never seen a Fox Trot
nor a Jittery Bug
Though whenever I’d Twist
in agony I’d Shout
But when a Hully became a Gully
and Monsters like Potatoes were Mashed
This Jerk got on his Pony ~
and Loco Motioned those Stoned Phonies
tally of real rally
had been vacated in valley
submerged by sally
(evaporated in valley)
(a vagrant ((virgin)) in valley)
(very variable vaunting veracity vibrantly voiced in valley)
(got eaten in gally)
(took God for granted in galley)
(has a lot of gall by gully)
(murdered in Mali)
(was sort of smelly)
(would have big belly when in valley
blood of poem runs thin
were great after they had been
famous and free from sin voiced
what I have believed
a great Horn poem you received
now I am relieved
latest and greatest
read Horn Haiku would suggest
have won a contest
he had been haughty
should see her beautiful body
news would be naughty
when we persevere
have a great happy new year
wish you had been here
incorrectly would do steer
my bad news will appear
car was not in gear
Do have a horrendous Horn Haiku
humorous numerous happy day on
display while I will plan to play and
start to pray
Some things are a given
When you work upon the land
You can always guarantee
Things will not go to plan
The minute you're in charge
And everyone has gone away
A problem will crop up
Promptly ruining your day
You go out to see the cattle
Checking their welfare
And find the electric fence is off
And the paddock is now bare
Have they gone down in the bush?
No the problem is worse, of course
They're over at the neighbours -
Up a gully in the bloody gorse
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