The grumpy wind cries through bottle glass and bone,
Grain silos whine like widows at the gate,
Each sunrise shows up but exits the dongas alone.
The main street sighs,its colors ages out of date,
A dronkie in overall insults the deserted mine,
His guffaws crack,deranged,underneath the weight.
The spaza still sells nyaope and wine
And phantoms line where concertinas used to play,
Their sounds of tiekie draai to hosannas of turpentine
Youngsters pursue tyres that stagger,then spin away,
Grime hides their glee,fields no longer yield,
Old topies sit like statues at close of day.
You comprehend-beyond the rot,
The shattered shield,
A determined ditty reverberates tenderly through pain
Is it so great to hear them everyday
Singing hosannas, playing harps for you?
And you’re not tired of sorting out their prayers
Not bored to see them trying to pursue?
And the concept of paradise, was it enough
Elaborated, or it could have been concealed
To an extent, because the plot seems rough
At least from what so far has been revealed
Is there the smell of summer breeze at morning,
Are there dewdrops on the leaves of apple tree?
A scent of coffee when my darling says I'm coming,
And there she is, holding a tray for her and me?..
My dear Lord, I guess you’ve been endowed
With a sufficient amount of love and labour
To materialize among the clouds
Please let us live again, do us a favor
Don’t take away this little hope, my Lord
It’s in your power, though you could disclaim
Cause nowadays your world is rumbling with wars
Some of the victims may divulge your name.
Far removed from the unrelenting hustle and bustle of quotidian existence,
There's no place I'd rather be at the moment. The air is so fresh. I find
My peace of mind here. Sometimes, all is silent like trickling tear. The silence
Broken by robins tweeting blissful hosannas. I'm so content here my inner child
Dances with abandon like a twirling dry foliage. Ah, the sounds of nature!
The babbling brook hums of peace. A spring rainbow arches over the hillside,
Butterflies bounce around blooming wildflowers. There's no illusion about
The sheer beauty of this peaceful valley. Could this be heaven on Earth?
It sure looks like it to me. Would you care to join me?
peace in the valley
rainbow hovers above me...
a welcome respite
To Whom Sweet Hosannas Ring
As life goes passing by
Soon we are to be judged
Thrilled must be God above
When clearly there’s no doubt
Our aim was spreading love.Quote - Poets own
As life goes passing by
The mind starts to wonder
Is there or is there not
Heaven in sky above
A flawless beauty spot.
As life goes passing by
Treasure moments in time
Show that dreams can come true
Share God’s words o’er the earth
A parting gift from you.
As life goes passing by
Listen to sounds of rain
View sun rays dance on sea
Smell musk rose blooms in June
Afore bells toll for thee.
As life goes passing by
And soon it’s time to leave
Fear not, angels stand near
Beseech no one should weep
Just cheer that you were here.
10th April 2022
* * *
Form M - Monchielle - New’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme used - No. 3 Death
All is copacetic...
on the green side of the grass.
Thank heavens! God is good!
There are much too many beautiful sunsets to feast eyes on
at the close of dawn.
God invites all and sundry
to taste life's nectar
before the hummingbirds and honeybees
and to hear robins tweet merry hosannas!
How wonderful to be among the living!
And live I will...until the day I cease
breathing air into my lungs!
Ain't life just grand?
Submitted for...
Strand Select N,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/13/2020
Write A Psalm Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina Riddle (Winner: 4th Place)
Date written and submitted: 09/10/2019
Afar off you stand,
fearful of me
because of what ...
the color of my skin?
At a distance (you deem safe)
do you judge
the worth of me
As you live in gated comfort
of isolation
Wearing a white suit of
fruit salad honors,
pressed to the breast
are the colors you love
Valor and bravery
was imbued to you
by a metal wizard wand
Spitting fire in your hand
allowed you to stand
afar off from me
With a steely hand
you pinned unspeakable deeds
on the innocent and guilty
Commendations notwithstanding,
when did I give you
a medal of fear
to put me in a box safely?
From blue service to white promotion,
your scarlet actions
were washed away
by the firmament gutter cleaners
And many heroic hosannas
were rained upon you
from a goodly parade distance
As the familial tears
of your justice
were buried from view ...
Safely, at a lengthy emotional dug space
Afar off further you stand,
hateful of me
because of what ...
the color of vitality you withdrew
from under my brother’s skin?
And you deposited
your talisman protection
at a safe distance,
yet-to-be determined
in the witching hour
As the spring sun rises
Revealing wispy clouds
Fog that's settled in hollows
Roosters crow, doves' coo proud
With Easter approaching
Thoughts of thousands years
Ago bubble up in
Memory, some tears flow
A triumphant entry
Upon a donkey new
He had never ridden one
The donkey unridden too
Was it a day like this
Apricot sun in the east
Or were there gray clouds
Did the sheep softly bleat?
The throngs worshipped with
Hosannas, in the name
Of the Lord, but did not
Know he'd be blamed
Blasphemy, blasphemy
Those accusers cried
They could not see
The Son or even tried
They could not see ahead
The future hidden deep
They did not know the cross
Awaited nor of its defeat
But only a short brush with death
Placed in a borrow tomb
On that Sunday long ago
He arose, He can't be exhumed
THE PALMS
As dawn child brings a new illumination
Among the palms are hints of gentle motion
Their fronds now stir in elegant activation
Like ladies with refinement: a devotion
Their fluent gestures smoothing interaction
Smiles bows and fans precluding all infraction
As day advances so increasing breeze
Lends greater life to trees and single boughs
The movement still of graceful bending ease
With strength and rhythm in their measures now
Our ladies pair with gallants to advance
The shapes and movements of a courtly dance
With each increase of wind, zephyr to gale
Their motions are more restless in reaction
'til branches thrash in protest at the travail
Separate or clinging daring final fraction
At the end they live the turmoil staying whole
And return to temper tranquil free of toll
Have these trees collective recall - eight days in history
They were spread with glad 'Hosannas!' to greet a King
But in less than a week to witness the tragic mystery
When darkness enveloped the land, and all hope took wing
Did they thrash and writhe to protest unjust, cruel inequity
Yet, the third day, stand in new hope and beauteous serenity
Palm Sunday
Shopping and hawking,
purchasing and vending their wares;
the observant noticed;
the indifferent paid no mind;
the powerful perturbed by all the noise
make their way to confront
and charge the man
some call anointed.
Loud and raucous singing
disturbs the quiet of the status quo.
Those who should be seen and not heard
are making the utmost clamor;
appreciated by some;
angering others
insisting they turn the volume down.
Boulders will sing
while trees will give their branches
to welcome the mighty
if the lowliest of participants
are muzzled by the powerful,
but they sing in applause;
an affront to the self-made mighty.
Shaking off the winter greys and
waving springtime green,
a shout welcomes the anointed one.
Thrown off fashion lines the path
covering eager rocks
postponing the clearing of their throats.
Join the cavalcade
and raise the benediction;
awaken the sleeping alleluias
and the slumbering hosannas.
Join the lowest of the low
and applaud the highest of the high.
But beware,
the shoppers are eager to buy,
even if the cost is high.
And the hawkers are ready
to sell their merchandise.
Curtain Call
Musings on more than a decade of retirement;
no report card scribble: ‘could’ve done better’.
Old put-downs, praise, blame, and shame,
all the same now. Nothing would jolt
the diurnal cadence of living and ageing.
Riding the bike, dip in the sea, few lengths in the pool
bringing wayward blood-sugar back to heel.
No excess, or excuse needed, for a glass or two with friends.
Eye-sight, reflexes, tested and judged
more than adequate for driving around
hoping to return before dark - unless, to pick up
or drop off family and friends at the airport –
not forgetting the local fiesta, musical show, flamenco night,
costing next to nothing.
Life’s purpose affirmed in every trivial act
presages loud hosannas before the curtain falls.
Sweeter as the days fly by
The thoughts of going home
That heavenly choir beckons me
To join and sing the praises
Let loud hosannas roll
The sea gathered her voice
on the crest of the waves
as dark clouds were herded
by the wind as he raved
in a symphony orchestrated
through elements of sound
composed by the air
from his drafty compound.
By the drum of the surf
on the beat of the waves
a crescendo that climbed
with the sea as she raged
while the wind as the maestro
pulled pockets of sound
from the whistles and moans
as he swept ‘cross the ground.
Soprano! cried the killdeer
Tenor! screeched the gulls
as a baritone foghorn
boomed from the hull
of a ship that swayed
drunkenly atop of the surf
staying clear of the breakers
that crashed on the turf
The ship creaked a response
as it groaned a refrain
but the deft hand of a shipwright
would keep it sustained
for he’d hewn and he’d whittled
great emblems of love
carving an angel for the figurehead
and atop the masthead, a dove.
When the wind stopped his jostling
and the sea spent her ire
the ship slipped back to its haven
of warm hearths and bright fires
where the men mused and wondered
over great tankards of ale
if the hymns and hosannas..
had been but, the wind in the sails?
Once within a break in brambly fields
something stirred its fearful head in sleep:
Though it be woman or child, work or vision
something that dares not hold me in derision
But till that lingering day bares your face
with prating breath I bide my bane
And even as I clear the brake, shift the trunks
hosannas crop up before you every dawn.
And someday as I have you in my arms
in osculation's brimming nirvanic bliss,
May I not then turn away empty handed
though warm in your inane atmanic face
Then as I wend my kindly way down the road
pitch my tent on this terraqueous matter-mind
Should I then go looking for my immortality
through doors that are forever locked to me
Or could I then lie upon nescience' impervious skies
upon some smoky grass unmapped or husbanded
And hear the awakening cries of spring born trees
then get up to wind my way to some factory blast
©: T. Wignesan, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
HERE TODAY GONE TOMORROW
Here today gone tomorrow
Thanksgiving and Christmas Day
We forget I hate to say
Colors – uplifting music
The great festival of friends
Hosannas joy without end
Chapel bells on Christmas Eve
Yearly drive to see the lights
Giant tree oh what a sight!
Amazing special passions
Filled with hope and constancy
Resolutions don’t you see
Quite a metamorphosis
Amnesia like a shroud
Head in light above gray clouds
Five great weeks of fantasy
A magic spell to be sure
Past new year though all’s a blur
Bloody Earth with many wars
World full of empty feelings
D.C. lies shady dealings
Lest we forget peaceful days
The season’s magic feeling
I’ve a wish am appealing
Caught up in reality -
Near forgot those hours of bliss -
Take the time to reminisce
After Burying a Wife
Were she here with me now,
by the waist I would raise her,
a chalice of wonder.
I’d bellow hosannas
and whirl her around,
tell her again that I love her,
press my face moist
in the pleats of her skirt,
ask her to sprinkle
phlox on the curls
of our children
if they are with her,
ask her to stay a while longer
while I do so much more
were she here with me now.
Donal Mahoney
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