Kinsman Poems | Examples

Who's Next?

Shudder not, for it’s the language of Death.
Who’s next? —it asks
Going from house to house,
Both of marble and mud
It cares not
Nor fears man, rich or poor,
Warrior or coward,
Whose nest it visits,
His cold arms ready for embrace,
Ready to snatch
Life is just but one lugubrious journey
On sea or on land or on air,
Which must end with the sound of
A school bell signalling the end of a recess.
So rejoice not when one, friend or foe, drops from the line,
For you could be next
And your kinsman next after you.
One after the other,
We drop
Like one old, battered leaf after another, in the
Spell of autumn.

The Last Thing

"Try it, and it will be 
The last thing you ever do!"

"I see your threats against me,
And it's you who should eschew!

Jesus became my Kinsman
The day I believed in Him.
Redeemed from the strongman,
Eternal life - when you're in Him.

My Avenger of Blood
Pursues justice for me.
He'll come in like a flood,
And judge my enemy. 

You'll face Him as your Judge.
It's the Great White Throne for you.
Unless you drop this grudge,
It's the last thing you ever do!"

The Art of Giving

A leaf, a root
Anchors of life in two different worlds
Each working towards sustenance of a deity 
The genesis of their life 
Their synergy, assurance of concord
Amid discord of simultaneous loss and gain
The root relentlessly searches underground for life to sustain its kindred
The beneficiary opens its watery eye to lose the priceless treasure,
Hard earned life droplets at the nature’s pressure
The scorching sun presses for ransom, for its purportedly precious
Rays, not carefree given but in exchange for dozens of scarce moisture
Baking the leafy green’s beauty into ounces of energy
The deity sacrifices one life, just to replenish with more of its kind
The fortified anchors below beckons for more,
Feeding on the efforts of their late kinsman,
Rousing their heads curiosity to just dig more,
Travel more and network more to prove the worth of the faded talisman
The kingdom rejoices at the birth of infant foliage,
A clear sign of effort and strength of the underground army
So, the daring and vigor of the vulnerable yet strong
Both make vitality of the deity

My God Is Such

Everything my God is 
God's my savior 
and Redeemer my God
My deliverer He's the God of Peace 
my God my savior God of my salvation
He's great God and savior ruler and king of all Nations 
The God of my salvation great God 
And He's Savior 
Horn of my salvation He's Lord 
My personal Savior 
He's the Prince of Peace Redeemer kinsman redeemer 
He be my Rock of salvation 
He's Rock of my Savior 
Savior of all men lover of all things 
Compassionate and gracious God
God so got a truth faithful Father a compassion always
He's such a forgiving God my God of All comfort 
My God of all Grace 
He's the God of Hope 
God of love and peace steadfastness and encouraging 
God ever so gracious and merciful 
My God a true loving God 
Hallelujah


11/24/22
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022

Ruth

I
Esther and Ruth
In God's Truth
The Bibles 66
Women author lacks
But these two
Esther and Ruth
But what Truth
About Savior-Redeemer

II
Boaz, Kinsman-Redeemer
Honored Great Provider
Hebrews left corners
Part harvest behind
As reapers wind
Their way, labor
No one beggar
Bible provided this
Ruth came: blessed
Boaz wed Ruth
Lineage: Obed, Jesse,
David through Jesus
Began with grain
Communion yet again!

Scripture, RUTH 2: 10
"Ruth fell at Boaz feet and thanked him warmly. 'What have I done to deserve such kindness?' she asked. 'I am only a foreigner.'" 

Commentary/ Application: in Old Testament the kinsman can redeem a slave by paying if he has a family connection, per Hebrew law & custom. Jesus is the ultimate Kinsman-Redeemer, hallelujah. In USA, the kind acts of so many citizens to foreigners have blessed America again & again. I found kindness in Greece & UK, but USA excels in aiding 'aliens'. God bless America & all of us. Amen & amein

Apostate Second Part

Anyone in pain , kinsman will accompany him
they will compensate his loss
no one will cry in the storm of sorrow and pain
the society will wake up in gross.

Mom don't cry further more, daddy is there
in the sky in star in night and in the dawn
I can see him there mom listen to him
saying establish the seed of love khokon.

Today I promise in this dawn in morning 
I will write the song of destruction in the form of a hero
to break the trap of the religion
and will fill the world with the luster of love, mom; will not be a zero.

I will not be afraid of war in the land of slaughter
give me the sword to do the war  mom
it's my dream dreams of hope, dreams of you
glitters of which will wake up the society
will remove the darkness the pain and the storm.

Sending Love To My Papa

Sending Love to My Papa

Underneath his multiple dark layers,
He was desperately seeking the light.
Wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing his betrayers, 
Kinsman who disregarded his cruel plight.
Memories of guilt, loneliness, and shame,
Ruined and fragmented his tortured soul. 
Years of misdeeds and their utter disdain,
He spiraled down an abysmal hellhole.
Tragic mother’s attempt at suicide.
Philandering father bedding hussies.
Abandoned precious children mortified.
Devastating hearts of blameless babies.
Ignored was the beauty of innocence,
Unearthed by kind love and strong resilience.

Who Am I

Who am I?

I am a lion who comes out as a goat
I am an ocean with waves big enough to drown
I am a child of Mesopotamia 
A descendant of Shaka Zulu
Baptized in the Nile
I depict the sword of Mansa Musa

I am the backbone of civilization
An icon of emancipation
I represent the pyramid of Giza
And the lighthouse of Alexandria
A symbol of hope 
And an emblem of freedom

I am a depiction of Chinua Achebe ink
An illustration of the hieroglyphic 
I am the carapace of Hannibal
And the shield of Tunka Manin
I am a player of the djembe
And the author of Sundiata Epic

I am an inheritor of Timbuktu 
A citizen of Kumbi-Saleh
A compadre to Askia Muhammed
And a son of Mansa Musa
A follower of Kwame Nkrumah
And a kinsman of Ahmet Sekou Toure

I am the native son of Gao
A fisherman of Lake Victoria
A Tuareg from the Sahara 
I hailed from the cradle of life
I am the black in Panther
And this is really who I am, A black man.

My Glossary

I am on a quest to find my glossary
Have you perhaps seen it today?
An unremarkable paperback 
Bearing dog-eared pages and faded tick marks
Bound between scarlet covers
Scarred by forgotten cigarettes and runaway coffee

Glossary
A wonderfully glorious word
Say it with me, if you please
It begins in your throat and ends on the tip of your tongue
Ushered away on expired breath
Glossary

Nothing like her drab kinsman called
Dictionary
Whittling words down to nothing but
Humdrum meanings
Or her chatterbox cousin named
Thesaurus
Repeating the same word one hundred different ways
Ignoring a rose is always but a rose
Dare to ask her another word for
Thesaurus
Her deadpan stare worth waiting for

I am on a quest to find my
(Say it with me)
Glossary
To lay with her
Upon my pillow
My thoughts unencumbered by life
As if my neck is headless
Acephalous 
Bard Hirsch’s darling word

My glossary, my glossary
My kingdom for my glossary

Have you perchance seen her today?

Who Cares

Who cares?
Those were days past 
When Africans used to be brothers
When everyone shared when something bothers 
When we all united against immorality
When a child belonged to the community
Now everyone on his own
Because none cares 

Gone are days of blood brotherhood
When all norms had meaning
When a kinsman never would sleep hungry
When we shared a pot of soup
When we talked openly but gently
Now everyone on his own
Because none cares

Between Clean Sheets and Heaven

It only seems like yesterday
That i met this beautiful lady
Up there
In that city
Between the dessert and the sea
She'd given up
On thoughts of love
Busy providing
For the one's she loved
On that broken heart
Between the
Dessert and the sea

It only seems like yesterday
That i held 
That broken heart
Between 
Clean sheets and heaven
I set about mending that heart
With my love and all my loving
In that city 
Between 
The dessert and the sea

It only seems like yesterday
They came and stole her away
As Kinsman do
They locked her away
In a black dress an apron
As the one's she loved
Couldn't bear the thought
She may love
And be loved more
By this stranger
By the door

Who else 
But her love
Will provide for us
And look after our kids
In this city between
The dessert and the sea

It only seems like yesterday
That love was born
And love was buried
That Txt's were send
And left unanswered
In that city
Between the dessert
And the sea

My Friend, My Love

My friend, my love

 

A King, forged from the red earth of Africa.

Skin blessed by a kiss from the sun,

A vision of God’s own reflection.

Towering high above the masses,

A mountain of your own.

Shoulders wide enough to carry the world,

A back with the strength to bare that burden.

Endowed as a bullock should be

Your insatiable lust for flesh engorges you.

Your digits; tasked with walking this earth,

Serve to show that even in perfection imperfection exists.

A mind with flaws reminding you are a mortal being.

Your culture entwined, a joint entity, breathing as one,

To separate you from it would be akin to separating the moon from the stars.

Crowned by your ancestors,

The strongest of leaders to guide your kinsman.

Quite masculinity defined in your forefathers.

A son who is his mother’s own,

Never a loyaler child created.

A provider, stoic in his resolve.

A partner, a friend, all consuming.

You engulf with your love,

Restless in your motivation for her success.

Your Achilles heel, your creations,

Your life, your death resides in them.

My friend, my love,

A good man.


 Alunamda  23/01/19

A Kinsman Passed

A kinsman passed 
Away last night
What sorrow and
Remorse we feel
It brings a tear
To know your
Not here
The poorer
We all are

A kinsman passed
My window
Last night
Her warmth and
Breath I felt
She flew on
To where
Crucibles don’t rumble
Our thoughts follow
In her draft

A kinsman passed
The gates
Last night
Into another verse
Joy and happiness
Are hers to behold
Forever she
Will last

A kinsman passed
Into his arms
Last night
How cruel it
All seems
To us

Where the Buckeye Grows

 Where The Buckeye Grows

     

Down where the tender buckeye grows
And soft green leaves exposed
The creek babbles over the rocks
Indians long disposed

I can hear the laughter of the child
Smiling faces all the while
The leaders making arrows sharp
Not knowing of coming trial

Turkeys and deer free for their food
Water nearby for thirst
Also free for wash day and baths
Cool a fever if needing nursed

Now tucked away in a strange land
The mighty Indian clan
In all fairness is their fate right
They really are our kinsman

As-Shanfara

My ancient Arabs know exactly how to tell a tale,
Of hardship, kinsman, outcasts, how to be so strong,
Withstanding weather, find your way, what it does entail
To fight a world alone, with nowhere to belong.

I like to think it is a metaphor, not an exact rendition.
A simile of sorts, no different from Bible or Qur’an.
A handbook, of how life can cast you out as clansman.
If preprogrammed molds don’t fit woman or man,

Shanfara found his way by choosing a direction,
Completely opposite of where his brothers rode.
He found his new kin amongst beings, all not human.
To him man does ascribe this still illustrious ode.

For you, my brigand poet, I write this loving poem,
You mean so much to me, like you I do not fit so well,
And am forever searching, But I am not seen as scum.
My su’luk, my traveler, I stay and have your tale to tell.

***

January 17, 2016
© Darren White

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