step stones across stream
look easy to pick and tread
some were raised upright
wanting to be idolised ~
as landfall stands for the soul
Truth’s not just in the beauty of our trees
cherry blossom
it’s pervading bouquet
the falling confetti
Truth’s whatever hangs from the tree
like branches
and fruit
perhaps that lynched refugee
Truth’s also insidiously part of the tree
toxic leaves
poison bark
spears used in our savagery
Truth’s sometimes hidden by the tree
shallow roots
slithery snakes
the rotten core we cannot see
Truth’s deeply carved into the tree
a lovers name
the idolised hero
our past disgrace of being monkeys
Truth’s symbolism comes from the tree
a carpenters son
the scourging whip’s handle
burning cross of supremacy
So what truth do we represent to the tree
maybe it’s master
could be it’s slave
More than that! we’re the common enemy
By David Kavanagh
When he died he made a pledge and a vow
The florist must deliver a rose somehow
His wife would be the one to receive this rose
So despite his death their love still grows
Who was the man to do such a loving thing?
An entertainer who was always up for joking
He was adored and idolised by so many
I'm referring to the legendary Jack Benny
Nearly fifty years now since he died and gone
Jack had comic timing that was second to none
A lovely thing for him to be remembered by
No doubt his wife Mary had a tear in her eye
Alas! A pandemic on earth;
Spread over the earth like a counterpane
And feasts with no respect for personality.
Has the end come?
What manner of pandemic is this
That humiliated the world powers
And buried the head of idolised humans?
Has the end come?
Alas! A pandemic on earth.
The rich live in fear;
The proud ones became wingless.
Has the end come?
What shall I do to protect myself against thee?
Shall I turn hand washing to ritual?
Shall I humble myself before the creator?
Has the end come?
Alas! A pandemic on earth
Whose effect will soon become history
And trigger man to prepare his life's account.
Has the end come?
Oh how we value artifice;
Indeed we'll bow and 'scrape'
Upon a stage of the falsest rage We hang;
on every word and break
The props are real to viewers
the plots we know by heart
They’re lionized and idolised
most people of these arts
We imbue them with much value
Though some are not so good.'
There seems an understanding
That the softer life is best
Though of those that there 'labour'
seem limp wristed in the main
However this easy life it seems
Was the choice of harder brains.
©Joe Maverick 25-2-2018
The idiosyncrasies of a semi idolised biscuit is often symbolised by riotous clapping sessions. By camels who love to crunch. But a crunch is neither a cream, a crevasse, a cape nor is it a crammed carton. So in fact is it better to rise then fall or fall then rise? In many a disguarded apron lies the epitome of expertise in experimental expeditions. But not whilst cleaning out the shower for that brings forth notes and vast arias of synchronised sounds from the sink. A snoring is often akin to the sweet sounds from a cast iron twenty foot long boar. Whose epic dreams of parachuting are often thwarted by the passing of the seasonal shrouded shams. But this is never to be released by mr shampoo bottle as shampoo bottles are too simple to simplify and to simplify is to simply signify significant stirring sticks. And there is the glow from the morning brew. Winking. Waiting. Z harpsichordist Z at 33 feet looking for 8 pairs of socks. X c v b q x and a big rotating Z
https://m.soundcloud.com/user-921599710/commandments-of-the-lord
As was written, on Mount Sinai
As Moses stood on high, commandments of virtue
A shower of blessings, to bestow upon
As for the people, they adhered not
Unguided minds, an idolised calf of gold
Yet to unfold, in a moment of anger
Stones thrust down, sin was all around, though forgiveness abound
Two further tablets, inscriptions anew
Early on the mount, forty days and nights
At one with the father
Both food and drink – the absence of
From such a return, proceeding down
A glow of brilliance, radiant face
Of whom could stare
Dispel at once
Covering veil
Of such commands, in accordance with
Prosperity stands
To stray from the path, affliction coincides
Worship the Lord
Assemble the Tabernacle
With sacrificial offerings, designated ark
Glory be filled
A time to remain
The cloud has arisen
Journey on
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
You hate men
You don’t wanna exist anymore
Men are all about the rage
And you are just like them, just like them
C'mon hit that weak woman
And then say that you hate yourself
I love you and you loved me sometimes
Without feeling, living your life day by day
You are just like my father
Just like all men
Please, come back again with a peace
My mother idolised my father
And now I idolise you like a little fool
You think you haven’t hurt me yet
And you won’t hurt me never
But venom is already going through my veins
I love you and you loved me sometimes
Without feeling, living your life day by day
You are just like my father
Just like all men
Please, come back again with a peace
Sometimes quiet is violent
Over thinking is a form of a fear
And there is always some madness in love
I love you and you loved me sometimes
Without feeling, living your life day by day
You are just like my father
Just like all men
Please, come back again with a peace
You cant imagine what you've done to me,
The girl who once loved to love
Now doesnt love at all.
All my beliefs and dreams you've shattered
Fairy tales and love? They dont even matter.
You dont know how it feels,
When the person you've idolised turns out to be a myth.
You've emptied me of all my hatered,
for you 'nothing' is the only feeling i feel.
I dont know how you even look at yourself,
Dont you see all the decieve and lies ?
The sins you committed under the blue skies?
'You love her ' you told me..
Where was that love when beneath you i was writhing?
You never promised me the world ,
But you could have atleast given me the truth.
Had you been half of the man i thought you to be,
I would have fought for you nail and tooth.
But now i lie broken and hurt ,
Not your fault i was just too easy to dessert.
I wish i could gather all that wasted love
And give it to the one who deserves ,
But because of you that wont be the case.
Because the girl who once loved too much
Now doesnt feel at all
Nothing at all.
Revered, worshipped and idolised
For many a century past,
This model of faultless divinity
Continues to capture our hearts.
Clandestine, profound and bewitching
Epitome of pride and decorum,
A splendid work of nature’s fine art
Enlightens our lives with its aura.
Enchanting eyes reflective in light
During stealthy nocturnal ramblings,
Carnivorous stalker of boundless endurance,
A feline vampire of unfortunate prey.
This diminutive tiger of domestic dwelling,
Switches from aloof predator to loyal
Ally at the crossing of the threshold,
Expressing contentment with a deep vibrating purr.
(For late Mrs Stella Obasanjo)
You are a paragon of beauty
Yes, a maiden of honour
Your steps are held true
In limelight of media
Your translucent fair skin
Held many an eye
Your strawberry-coloured lips
Captivated, salivated many hearts
An icon of substance
Of the Abebe breed
The worth of your simplicity?
In Aso villa lives.
You are a paragon of beauty
Yes, a maiden of honour...
The stronghold of that rock
The mother of all
Mother of few
The eyes of one,
All have eyes.
Tick-tock, tock-tick;
Your clock tocked at sixty
Sixty awesome years
Beautiful, inspiring ones
...your steps are held true
In limelight of nations.
One final TOCK shook Nigeria
Green-white-green
Lay still on the floor
Sixty seconds flat
Sixty awesome years
Dragging nothingness to your grave
O fair lady brave
Nothing did you crave
So much as perfect beauty.
Yes, a paragon of beauty
Truly a maiden of honour
Your steps are idolised
Sweet Obasanjo’s bride...
Desire to survive, dream to
thrive,
Everybody needs appreciation,
And if so do I , what's wrong ?
My parents adored me dear,to
absolute,
Graced me with ideas, shaped
my future,
I appreciate.
My siblings embraced me in
emity,
Making me witty and crazy,
I appreciate.
My confidant pal, my convoy,
Pioneered me to prosper,
I appreciate.
My companion stood by me,
Through all thick and thin,
I appreciate .
My little boy painted the blue,
In a perfect hue,
I appreciate.
I endeavoured to my supreme,
Idolised with all my passion,
Oh God ! Bestow upon me
Some divine appreciation!!
By Upma Sharma
25/05/13
Awarded 2nd place win
The greatest Bard of all Scotia.
Reigning immortal king O peasant familia.
Idealistic and unique commentator.
Born to magic words of any orator.
United differences empathised.
Tuned to the masses and idolised.
Eternal gratitude to our Rabbie.
Tickling our attitude for a party.
Oor Robert Burns O the Celtic.
Rhymer of yarns and purest magic.
Auld lang syne and Scots wha hae.
Beautiful member of the human ways.
Born here and forever after.
Your name is The Bard of Scottish patter.
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