many rituals,
from birth till the death
breath folds each goodbye.
Imitated feast-
ceremonies choking on fear
shrinking from them.
shame of the ceremony
when mandop lacks pomp and guests,
no minister (or M.L.A) comes.
ashamed of parent's death
if ceremonies not grand
although not fed (him) well.
ashamed at his own death
while rites are not made grand
before the (watching ) people.
Born from the sun's ancient kiss,
A gift wrapped in golden brown bliss,
I carry the stories of ancestors proud,
Their strength echoing clear and loud.
Melanin flowing through my veins,
Like rivers of cocoa after the rains,
Each shade a testament to divine design,
From ebony deep to honey wine.
They tried to dim this sacred light,
But stars were born to shine so bright,
My skin holds wisdom, holds the grace
Of those who paved this sacred space.
The richest hues I've ever seen,
Caramel dreams and coffee streams,
All wrapped up in melanin's gleams.
This glow cannot be replicated,
This beauty will not be imitated,
For every freckle, every mark
Tells stories that light up the dark.
I am the sunrise, I am the earth,
I celebrate this blessed birth,
This melanin that makes me whole,
This radiant, unbreakable soul.
Let my skin sing its ancient song,
Of survival, of being strong,
Of beauty that cannot be denied,
This melanin glow, my source of pride.
Are nasty words used to express emotions to a heighten degree
Am i suppose to understand you any more than you understand me
Vocabulary words isn't hard to learn and to use
I can use words that aren't so nasty and still blow a fuse
Stand up comedy isn't the same due to foul language
When it comes to being professional how do you manage
I know God confused the languages but it cant be that bad
The fact you cant find better words is completely sad
It would upset you if your child imitated that
The bad behavior parents display even the good words they lack
Isn't this world ugly and nasty enough
Do you really need foul language for someone to call your bluff
Your grandma would attempt to wash your mouth out with soap
Such language puts you and the devil in the same boat
Find a better way of trying to express your pain, anger and commotion
So every person would be impressed and understand your emotion.
The most recognizable album cover in history, the photo of the
Beatles crossing Abbey Road, taken in the summer of sixty nine,
fifteen minutes before noon on August eight to be précised.
An iconic album cover for the image resonated with the fans.
There are wall posters of this photo and it seems men, my age,
in music industry have one in their living rooms or studios.
The photograph of the most influential band in the world walking
on a zebra crossing became one of the most imitated of all time.
I am one of those who imitated it five months ago, 19 of October
at eleven fifty in the morning, when we had photos taken crossing
Abbey Road, amidst a busy road in northwest London in St. John’s Wood
in the city of Westminster, outside Abbey Road Studios, formerly EMI.
We crossed Abbey Road in single file with me leading, followed by my
daughter and my granddaughter with our fourth person, my grandson
taking the pictures so he was not included, kind of disappointing.
How I wish we were there on October 9, John Lennon and my birthday.
The Fab Four crossing Abbey Road in single file, led by John in white suit
and shoes, followed by Ringo in black suit and shoes, bare footed Paul
in gray suit and George in denim and white shoes, all in synced with left
foot forward, except Paul and their short shadows inside the crossing.
Tree and parked car lined road under a clear blue sky, brown flats
peeking or towering the green trees and a bystander on the right
side and cars in both lanes a long way off, no traffic, no pedestrians
on a sunny, midday, based on the shadows in Abbey Road in London.
No album title, no band’s name and no artist name, just an image so
simple and memorable, the band casually crossing Abbey Road in a
moment of stillness that became one of the famous artworks in
history and album cover of all time and one of the most imitated.
From way down in "Bama"
Stirring echoes of Big Mama
A thunderous storm that brewed from the Deep South
Each word could be felt when it left her mouth
With her immense presence, showmanship, and confidence
She would capture the hearts and minds of her audience
She stood tall, shoulder to shoulder amongst the sultans of Blues
She didn't have to put on airs 'cause she stood comfortably in her shoes
A woman, a beautiful black woman oozing with creativity and soul
In her kitchen, she took lemons and made pitcher after pitcher of sweet lemonade that she always served cold
Oh, Big Mama you brought that good medicine to the soul when you sang
You bellowed melodies that reached up and tugged on heartstrangs
Oh, Big Mama I see ya' cookin' with your horn, too
Blowin', just blowin' so beautifully as only a few can do
You were so good that some felt a need to copy you and steal your money
Shameful shadowy expressions of a "Hound Dog" depraved music industry
Never to be replicated or duplicated
One of one, you were, but still, you're often imitated
From way down in "Bama"
Stirring echoes of Big Mama
Waves of nausea crash against my splintering ribcage,
stomach churning, bile burning through esophageal walls.
Choking on paranoia-fueled delirium,
self-inflicted wounds etched upon a fragile psyche,
all while I try to hold on to some semblance of my humanity.
Push and pull, breaking down walls,
then building them back up, reinforced.
Love never came easy in delusion-filled memories,
always hovering at the cusp of fiction,
ready to strike like a coiled python.
Then, like glass, tears would cascade down,
begging for forgiveness.
Paranoia-induced hallucinations gripped my marrow again,
coursing through tainted bloodstreams,
blinding any sense of reason.
So life imitated drug-soaked nightmares
as my security slipped through calloused fingers once more.
While the rain pummels down against abandoned dreams,
I am haunted by you in this empty house.
Nothing but phantoms of the past roam
in the dead of night,
wailing in the deafening silence,
a requiem for my inner demons’ eternal torment.
imitated
.
. marked
.
. &attributed
. a discovered
.
disappointment
.
. so obviously
.
.&engagingly
.
. announced.
.
.
. .
yet
.
.
.persistently
approved
.
.
interceded
.
.
on our behalf
.
.
.so winningly|
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It's often shamed and mocked
But quietly behind the veil, it's jocked
It can't be duplicated
But oh, too often it's imitated
One may venture to say it's exclusive
Yes, a super Blue Moon at night
The outside can be intrusive
So guard it with all your might
Rare! So rare is the salient vigor you possess
Deep inside, it lived before you took the first suckle
from your mother's breast
From within it begins and like the Great Mississippi, it
never ends
Flowing, rushing, moving, and going is the inner G that
continues even as it bends
But make sure not to be dammed by external forces
There are vampires, leeches, and witches in search of
virile sources
From the divine, you were gifted
Remember this when you're down so you can get lifted
Your inner G, you behold
Protect it and let your truth be told
Your inner G you must project
Walk in self-confidence and self-respect
This inner G is yours
Use it divinely and complete your earthly chores
Turkeys' Thanksgiving Suggestions
A month before the thanksgiving party,
All turkeys met in their community
To plan how to stop people,
Cooking them as foods for all,
For there are other fowls in their county.
Mr. Gobble had a smart suggestion
To have them ducks’ and chicken’s rotation,
Everybody then wore wigs,
Imitated sounds of pigs,
But they forgot to hide tails' expansions.
In one look she packed a volume of desires,
in one simple smile she had lifetime of dreams,
in love she would surge a passion of fires,
she sang like birds amidst the lilting of streams,
Gods watched her closely, imitated her style,
heaven is a better place, thanks to her smile!
1st placement
written 19/09/2023
11 syllables each line
6 lines
Line Gauthier sponsored
Bite size poetry contest 72
Wisdom
A candle burning in a peaceful and tranquil state,
In its flicker, reflect on past and present, successes and mistakes,
In its glow, absorb the radiations of actions and thoughts,
With it light many candles, share the wisdom in its pure and powerful state.
As a child, I imitated elders,
Parents words of wisdom still dictate my life,
Speak words which does not hurt others,
Appreciate good in others,
Knowledge teaches, Wisdom listens.
Gather some wisdom thru experimentation,
Explore new ideas and bold imaginations,
Help solve past problems, and create new hope for the future,
It is a wisdom gained and never denied.
the time has come to bury tim
his artificial heart could not take the reality
when he was born, the world became more colorful
his energy and his smile was like water to what once was
i will remember his baseball card collection and his passion for the game
he could have been another ozzie smith for he cut enough flips
he idolized derek jeter as well and would light up when he saw him play
when his weak heart expressed itself, gone was his original dream
however, he found another
after reading poems by e.e. cummings, he tried to write poems like him
tim emulated and imitated until he made it his own
one day i will post a few of his works
until then, the time has come to bury tim
rest easy, dear sweet nephew, i was hoping that you would make it to ten
To see the world through a child's eyes, colour ricochets with feelings of wonder, time endless days are weeks. Innocence a gift in youth. Sheer joy free a feeling of bliss. A child's mind spirit and soul. Capable of rationale taken by age. A childs mind ponders and asks the reason why. Excitement combined with curiosity. Experiences indulging with eyes bulging. The beauty of age is to appreciate time, the beauty of youth is times importance to be unknown.A child brought into the world, priceless happiness to those who may hold, a child of their own a new spirit created, with a part of yourself imitated.
Child's mind like a tree forever changing
No real angles the branches have no ends
Infinite yet finite
To write like me, you wouldn’t
And not because you shouldn’t,
But probably you couldn’t
Since our brains are each unique.
You might adapt my rhyming
And possibly my timing,
Though paths you think you’re climbing
To my mind won’t let you peek.
The styles that we’ve created
Cannot be imitated,
A truth that’s been debated
Back since critics learned to speak.
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