In the meadow, I sing so loud
I heart well to do the same in the sunny valley
Night freezes on my resting soul as do cloud
Morning pisses on my hasting arms like bees honey
Faith sets my legs on the rail of challenges
Hoping would have been helpful
But hustling isn't a sponge
Yet through contention, each day becomes beautiful
Come sun, come chance even in the rain
Makes room for my reign, not only for the gain
Thanks to you o God almighty my father
For keeping me strong in every weather
© 2020
® Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá
Categories:
hasting, angel, art, blessing, good
Form: Free verse
First light of dawn
Uphill I walked it was still dark, had to be at
the farm a five, milking time. Hard westerly
wind makes the climb tough soon the cattle will
be mooing in their pens, the boss grumpy, I’m
hungry and no time to eat; milking eight cows
by hand is no joke. End of the last hill I see
the farm, there is light in the kitchen,
Emma, my dog, barks, stops when she hears my
steps, ten to five, morning light I stop and catch
my breath, they are not going to think that I was
hasting for them I’ll have a quick mug of coffee
a slice of ham, just like any other day, they will
wonder and the maids whisper, but not ask where
and with whom, I spent the night.
Categories:
hasting, anniversary, bangla, beach, best
Form: Blank verse
Life has different shades.
You paint your wall with ideal hues.
All you want to have are perfect strokes.
But that is not life... without flaws.
Sometimes you are so cruel.
Belittling others and treating them paupers;
Living like a king and pursuing to rule;
But still you fail to find your own pleasures.
Complaining is your breakfast.
For lunch are your countless sighs,
Exasperating looks are your snacks,
Insuperable pessimism completes your supper.
Life's struggles eat up your days.
Ignoring others as they whisper comforts;
Losing patience controls your vision;
Imperfection is your greatest question.
Realization is always in the end.
Forgiveness is what you really need.
Now hasting for good deeds to impart;
But He says, " Son, it's time to depart."
Categories:
hasting, farewell, humanity, leaving, truth,
Form: Free verse
Master here i am just waiting for you
Angels do not hasting all your wings
Not even in the twilight do i have fear
Dark day may lie ahead for our nation
Everyone must heed the master call
Living the life which i was ordained
Acceptance of my journey back home
Categories:
hasting, grief,
Form: Acrostic
The autumn sun has risen
but yet to attain high noon-
make hay, my roses fair.
I would not be happy to see you
decaying with the hasting day.
I have short time as you.
Growing too quickly to decay.
Dying as the summer’s rain-
as the pearls of morning’s dew
never to be seen again as I’m.
I have learnt a lesson from
butterfly, your best friend;
“It is better to be happy for a moment
and burnt with the beauty
than to live a long boring life”.
+++
October 26, 2014
Form: Carpe Diem
Fifth Place Win
Contest: Seize the Day by Regina Riddle
Categories:
hasting, life,
Form: Carpe Diem
The autumn sun has risen
but yet to attain high noon-
Make hay, my Rose fair.
I would not be happy to see you
decaying with the hasting day.
I have short time as you
Going too quickly to decay.
I would not look at the clock
and I would not my heart lock.
If death is a certainty in life
it is love’s labor’s lost to strive.
Then why should one but a death fear
As I understand death is but a slumber.
It is just sleep in eternity to rise
It is the very death that dies.
I am ready to go as predestined
Oh,Lord, untie the strings to my life.
If today is last day, tomorrow too late
I would say good bye to yesterday.
+++
September 16, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Categories:
hasting, death, desire,
Form: Free verse
Uncle Mike's news from the past - - - Sometimes the News Bugs Me
July “57, in Hasting Minnesota
Fish flies flew in way over their quota
They covered the roadways
They covered the bridges
They covered the lowlands
They covered the ridges
They clogged carburetors
They caused cars to stall
The townsfolk were stymied
Just who could they call
They called out the cops
And the youth auto club
To clean out the town
To give it a scrub
The bug drifts were deep
About two point five feet
Slippery and slimy
They covered the street
And wouldn’t you know it
In mouth, ear and eyes
The youth of dear Hastings
Were soon filled with flies
But nobody backed out
And nobody gave in
They just hosed themselves off
And got at it again
So the youth and the cops
Finally cleared all the bridges
Let Mother Nature take care of
The lowlands and ridges
The fish flies that year
Was the town’s cause célèbre
And that’s what I learned today
Out on the web
Categories:
hasting, nature,
Form: Rhyme
Your world is just about
to branch away from mine
just as the two of them converged
moments ago, and settled in;
out of thousands that I see each day
what makes me look at you
across the aisle
and trace your gaze into infinity?
A commonality is far away.
Did you once share a baby's wooden blocks
and build a tower for his delight,
to shatter down? ...and build again
for yours?
Did you forget?
I look across the chasm
of the consciousness that we might share,
and see it widening.
I see the numbers ranked like soldiers
in your mind, your schedule crowding in,
the memory of scent you know so well
upon the girl you'll meet in the hotel
at five.
Our lives are not commodities
we would exchange, yet still they sear
the moment with their nonchalance,
their downward glance, their inner lights
of mutuality that filter down like dust,
the likes of common friend, of taste,
of faith—all silent hasting to their rest.
There is no greeting, no goodbye,
and no acknowledgement
that either of us make.
But there is thunder
rushing in to our vacuity,
resounding still, the cry of the pursuit
in vain that you and I,
the thoughtless hosts of mystery,
will never entertain.
~
Categories:
hasting, people,
Form: Free verse
All hope is lost in the
Pain of the
Open world,
Closing in on us
As day becomes night,
Lifting the veil of death
Your heart has craved, the
Pain that so
Seared your soul,
Ending the existence of everything.
Take the
World into you
Open hand,
Trampling the
Hasting armies of the
Other side, the
Underworld in which
Satan has reign. Turn your
Attention to the
Nothingness of
Dreams, for in them
Time stands still,
Waiting for the chance to
End everything,
Leaving the
Vultures to
Eat away at us.
This is the apocalypse.
Categories:
hasting, death, loss, mystery,
Form: I do not know?
The autumn sun has risen
But yet to attain high noon-
Make hay, my roses fair.
I would not be happy to see you,
Decaying with the hasting day.
I have short time as you.
Growing too quickly to decay,
Dying as the summer’s rain-
As the pearls of morning’s dew
Never to be seen again as I’m.
======================
Categories:
hasting, death, autumn,
Form: Free verse
And Arthur sometimes often saw,
A fella lonesome and for sure,
Who could maybe misinform,
His double maybe more.
Becalmed, began to understrum,
The reason for this meeting,
He looked a little bit less young,
“Probably needed to be hung,
Yes that is what he’s needing.”
The preacher scowling passed the plate,
“give back the money that you stole,
The devil will you incinerate,
Perhaps we’ll save you soul”
Strange talk in church he’s hearing,
He grabbed the preacher, Christmas holt,
To stop him interfering,
And then he did the bolt,
Rode off with Hasting Deering
Would his double keep appearing?
Don Johnson 4-jul-11
Matt Caliri contest Doppleganger
Categories:
hasting, adventure
Form: Rhyme
By the chalk-white cliffs of Dover
Where the English country ends
There we watch the ferries going over
Some in some out, the usual wend
In our youthful common blithe
There we sat on cliff-grass wasting
Wasting time and never hasting
On the meadows reaped by scythe
So meet us here one day my friend
When your meadows also end
With a scythe to reap your spoils
So you can board the ferry outbound to the peaceful, foreign soils
By the glossy calming ocean
That reflects your face, your past
Stuck in pondering past emotion
As the waves come in to cast
A new reflection of the sea
Where your long-lost memories squander
To a worldly town a yonder
In a book of your debris
So meet us here one day my friend
When your meadows also end
With a scythe to reap your spoils
So you can board the ferry outbound to the peaceful, foreign soils
Categories:
hasting, allegory, deathday,
Form: I do not know?