Late in September
I fondly remember
What caused loves engender
the days all in rhyme
Lost in September
a slave to indenture
My feelings surrendered
for you to be mine
Laughing we tendered
what pain could not enter
And boldly uncensored
each moment sublime
But Fall’s great pretender
October dismembered
Our fate the death chamber
— of Summer mistimed
(Poems Of Love: Merch, 2026)
You can’t make a deal
with a Judas
As tenured
they govern on high
Like the British
who sought our indenture
With graft and self-interest
they lie
You can’t play the game
any longer
When rules only favor
the few
Where freedom is held
as a hostage
And verity’s fairness
— askew
(The New Room: March, 2025)
Many die
to walk unknown
amongst
the living dead
Their hearts reclaimed
yet beating still
whose verses
go unread
They wander freely
in the night
their chains
relock the grave
Awaiting words
you’ve yet to write
to free
— their death enslaved
(Calvary Cemetery: February, 2025)
Mankind
was never meant
to survive the future
Technology
a trap
their greed as bait
Generations
sacrificed
in self destruction
On altars
of indenture
— their natures gone
(Calvary Cemetery: May, 2024)
She is one for the ages,
She graced a many a stage.
She is a Mother, She is a Saint
She is immortal, a miracle without restraint.
She draped herself in six yards of blue & white.
She gave her all, pulled all her might.
She said, these are the people of God,
She led towards upliftment, salvation, with her squad.
She roamed the street no one ventured,
She tamed the demons without any indenture.
She served among the poorest of poor,
She was the rarest of rare.
She knew no boundaries, borders didn’t restrict her,
She preached people before politics, others before self, in her edifier.
She with her diminutive figure, dulcet voice,
She with her passion & will, made the right noise.
She left this World a better place,
She left her indelible mark with grace.
She will be revered on Earth till existence.
She is immortal san question.
Female, I felt! Chirped differently than on other days!
As though crying and screaming in many ways
It might not be owing to the change of weather, I know.
Nor, due to the drizzles, visited its nest like a forgotten foe.
I, with my little ability to climb the trees, took the adventure
As though signing with the tree, a unique indenture
I could not find anything unusual at first glance.
Soon, I fell enraptured by a skeptically unsympathetic trance.
I could find something, like an ipomoea black heart vine, sway
And crawling towards the eggs that, like turquoise stones, lay
While I stood dumbfounded, I could witness the frail bird bounce.
And attack the intruder, and his death sentence pronounce
Silence shrouded my so-far self-complacent wisdom.
I backtracked, pondering over the powers of the bird kingdom.
Reaching into the
public conscience
words are tokened free
Blowing fresh holes
through blind indenture
light for all to see
Reaching into the
common ledger …
its double-entry fate
Paying the debt
on tomorrow’s maelstrom
—seeking heaven’s gate
(The New Room: June, 2023)
Cliffs call me; yonder scenes to see,
Not to leave them dearest plains plea;
Seas see the senile sight and smile,
Heart yearns to fly free for a while…!
Faces of human beings here,
Appear clear as they are just near;
Seagulls seem seagulls; crows seem crows,
Flowers run reality-shows…!
Will the vistas same on high cliffs?
Will I see the sea and sole-skiffs?
Do snakes, instead home-pets, creep there?
Do land-sea touch, there, grip your hair?
=====
===
Cliffs stand silent; I understand -
Our holy brotherhood now banned;
Though being on land is pleasant,
Isn't beauty omnipresent?
And so I gladly adventure,
As though curio indenture;
Marvelous feelings venture give,
I could cherish when in grave live…!
O! I stand there; my world gets changed;
Outlooks get my thoughts re-arranged;
Each thing seems great gem of beauty,
Each realm reveals: God on duty...!
19 October 2022
This or That, Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
The past and the future
fold into the present
Conceptually vacant
twice empty refrains
No before and no after
perpetually frozen
The ice of indenture
—this moment contains
(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)
Quote: "From deep within my heart
I always catch the scent of my Beloved.
How can I help but follow that fragrance?" By Rumi
She, an inhale of perfume on a summer day vacant as the scent of rain
when she passes by, every flower mutes and bows to her aerial adventure
truth be told she is the secret of my desire and she drives me quite insane
when she dances the world stands still witnessing our private indenture
she is the compote of my sweet thoughts, the reason I believe in love
Her aroma a signature of passion, an undescriptive calling to my senses
when she sachets my way every star of heaven releases light from up above
she disarms me with her smile and disarms all my defenses
a bouquet of wild flowers in the garden of my dreams , a fantasy of love
she is the H in my big heart and the T of my tomorrows
From deep within my heart I catch the scent of my favorite flower
she is my best loved poem and sensation, she's my girl power.
July 15, 2022
Sponsor Sotto Poet
Contest Name Rhyme Rumi Quote
When I was a child
a mere simulation of an adult reconciled,
in the body of a seven-year-old adventurer -
I'd be a scientist, explorer or a writer succumbed to indenture,
as the storyteller, poet of what may lay ahead synchronizing,
visionary hero of the future uncompromising
out of the histories of some reformulated past stabilizing;
guided by grandmother's heart and care
taking in everything with no thought spared,
caught between the dream and its lesson wellspring
and all the heartaches and happiness it may bring
living, loving, measuring everything;
and here I am today, aged and grown
caught by the ebb and tidal edges sown
of where I was to go within its undertow.
I am the legendary me completed and formed
in a legacy that is created by life storms
satisfied and eased and at last at rest
knowing well - who I am today
can be assured -
I did my very best.
I’m actually tired of being myself…
can I be you for awhile
I hide from the mirror and monogrammed lies,
as I run from an image defiled
I thought I was safe and had made my escape,
when memory reminded again
“You can run, you can hide, your indenture unkeyed
—the chains locked secure in your head”
(The New Room: January, 2021)
Lobbying through Hell,
the politician remanded
To the Devil he stated:
“Your program’s too thin
“You need to refigure
and turn up the heat
“His word’s getting through,
and the Angels all sing”
“It’s not about numbers,
Lucifer cried from the furnace
“It’s not about losses,
but what’s mine to gain
“If only one soul’s
to be trapped here forever
“Your indenture my focus
—let the suffering begin”
(Dreamsleep: September, 2020)
You honor poets by this day - this our souls require!
My far-off ancestral fire and I born in indenture (South Africa)
Still learned "NAMASTHE: I bow before your spirit!"
No handshakes needed, for higher things we aspire
In Mandela's Africa, where Indian & Gandhi no more inspire
But COVID-19 will perhaps unite us again, as Lincoln & King
we sailed to the island, the island, the island
and would stay there evermore
with nothing to read but coconuts
and cocoa berries upon the tree
with no barber, Dennis or lawman
things could ghetto might strange
but we handle a leader (let's call him trumper)
trumper stood higher, and gave a screech
about a returnstile trip to sterilization
we stood up and jeered, Hooray, Hooray
but we be stripwrecked, cousin trumper, said we
what chance are we out in the farsighted lotion
where even the seagirls far outnumber us?
never minding that, he said we'll build a blue one
and us set about chirping down trees
at lust, the crate was finnish
two by two, we crumb aboard
and set snail for big indenture
to scoot for homely bound
but the beauty took on water
and we invaded to another shore
fierce sausages lined the bleachers
farmed with spearmints gone galore
we said our players, it looked like pretend
but the sausages made our breakfast friends!
brer trumper aligned a trick or treaty
the crew lived on believing children for eleventy years
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