I paused by the river in the late afternoon—
how many years have passed!
The plane tree on the bank, towering,
the riverbed unchanged;
what, I wonder, will I find on the other side?
The hollow in the plane tree has widened,
memories stored within its hiding place—
time ferrets them out through nostalgia!
We used to play cops and robbers as children;
dry plane leaves, at the mercy of the wind!
The riverbed, an endless white snakeskin,
stones rolled round like scales—
how often I slipped into its freezing waters!...
my schoolbag a lifebuoy upon my back;
sunken pebbles held hostage in the sand!
On the opposite bank stands my childhood home;
its chimney smoked on a day like this,
the doorway held a sweet scent as Mother passed through,
the courtyard gate creaked at Father’s step;
a robin sang amidst the fresh snow!
"There's a river meandering through the mind"
It flows like a torrent, so often I find
My thoughts when they bank up, and reach breaking point
A deep breath is needed before all is spoilt.
This rescue plan calms me, the word flow I stop
My lifebuoy surrounds me so I stay on top.
The river will then flow, while keeping on course
Allowing me freedom to locate its source.
When found, I will row down just taking my time
Meander at leisure this river of mine.
Take in the scenery, enjoying the view
When I take control of my thoughts that come through.
When twist-and-turns, like narrow mount-roads, I face,
When deaths of kith, like winds in fall, bring disgrace;
When my cries, like waves of oceans, surge endless,
I laugh, serving the orphan and the friendless...!
Wealth gone, poverty dorn, when I'm in the pits,
When shelter, in rain torrents, shatter to bits;
Stitching, ad infinitum, old robes I wear,
I laugh with the poor who laugh in loincloth bare...!
When exhaustion and hurt feelings weigh me down,
In floods of helplessness when I sadly drown;
Grasping divine-drawn frail hands as lifebuoy,
I laugh within forgetting every ennui...!
Life is present presented to live the present,
Accepting each good and evil heaven-sent;
As farmers separate corns from hay and chaff,
Keeping away grim facades, I loudly laugh...!
13 November 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh |
In the light of autumn skies,
one might sense this blind turbulent endeavour,
raptures veering like some wanton thunderstorm,
behind dark moon frost allure,
amber leaf vortex among bemused grey clouds,
gust-ridden disco blue hue,
tumbling high jinx from skyline moist beams,
damp rot urban shed cluster,
nomad squatter plight,
so at odds with pending freeze,
summer folly red blaze passed,,
heatwave immigrant rues latent scorn,
a strained close quarter riddle,
never ending once an everlasting phase,
now deep chill month outlier,
sunshine and wet portent’s quaint platform, eccenteuc tide or mere blot, mud-splattered ocean grazing bleak ink stain pier, lone wolf lifebuoy weeps,
shifting sand element's interval
A poem is a conduit,
Like a cable or a wire.
It just provides a pathway
To communicate, inspire.
A way to share our inner self
Our psyche or our soul
Those feelings that we can’t express
Given life upon a scroll
We solder our spirit to paper
Words, like rivets, secure
Sadness, loss, joy and fear,
Grief and so much more
Words, like many balls of wool
We weave to form a shawl
Life’s tapestry of love and loss
That’s common to us all.
Touching something deep within
It moves us and creates
The space to see another’s view,
Their triumphs and their fates.
So do not judge those that aspire,
Through poetry and verse,
To reach the canyons of our souls
For better or for worse.
Not for judgement do we share
Our human need and pain,
But seek only to communicate
And no other form of gain.
There is much that makes us different
But the poet as he writes,
Captures all that makes us human
Not what divides, but what unites.
It’s a lifebuoy to the drowning.
A flare launched in seas unknown.
A hope, a cry, a reaching out
To know that we are not alone.
not the banyan trees
dried twigs hold the dragonflies
often carefully
few fallen feathers
form firm foundations for Finch's
fantastic furrow
a leaf on waters
becomes great lifebuoy
for a drowning ant
17 August 2021
In my youth I was completely engrossed,
By poetry along the byways nailed to a post!
It wasn't composed by John Greenleaf Whittier;
No, the authors were much more wittier!
I speak of Burma Shave signs once all the craze,
But can only be found in museums nowadays.
I don't claim to own the wit of poet Ogden Nash,
But here are some I might've composed if I may be so brash!
If its a kiss from yer gal you crave
But the stubble on yer mug she hates
Better grab yerself a can of Burma Shave!
When ol' Sarge says you're grown' too much stubble
And threatens to nix yer weekend pass
Slather yer mug with Burma Shave on the double!
When you were interviewed for a host of jobs
But weren't hired because of yer stubble
Smother yer mug with Burma Shave in gobs!
When you insist on takin' her out to dine
But she says no caressin' yer 5-o'clock shadow
Mow yer mug usin' Burma Shave and all will be fine!
If it's yer handsome mug you want to save
Plain ol' Lifebuoy soap won't do the job
Use plenty of good ol' foamy Burma Shave!
Let me tell you fellers about the latest rave
If you want to impress your sweetie pie
Use smooth and creamy Burma Shave!
A view of the fifties
lifebuoy, A soap a remember well on ships
there was no other soap it had a strong masculine scent
for those who didn't use Floyd aftershave.
We seamen were a clean race always a shower after work
and those who did not were soon persuaded to shower
and keep clean or, they had to take their food outside.
When going ashore in seaports in Britain, it was grey and
it appeared colour had not been invented.
The pubs closed early and were thick of cigarette smoke.
We usually ended up in a fish& chips shop, some of them
had tables made of Formica and not too clean.
What made life bearable was the many women, not prostitutes
but not sparing with what they had to offer.
Since there was nowhere to go, the loving was done in a dark
alleyway standing up leaning against a piss soaked wall.
Going back onboard to a well-lit ship and warm bunk was heavenly.
Help! Help! I am drowning
What do you mean you can't swim
Throw the lifebuoy, please
Loosen up! laugh off unlucky breaks;
Lifelong lesson: settle mistakes.
Let’s get going; I’m your friend.
Lights shine at tunnel’s end.
Little things loom large
Listen, take charge.
Learn a new
Lease on
Life.
July 23, 2018
contest: Nine lines to let them know everything will be fine
sponsor: Silent One
I have loved the best
In my tenure as a blue-eyed boy
Injecting zeal and zest in my quest.
I have bestowed care in my romance to attest
To the enduring power of joint joy
I have loved the best.
I have sacrificed ego-tripping to request
My partner to dole out her lifebuoy
Injecting zeal and zest in my quest.
I have striven to rise to my romance crest
Where in my partner’s convoy I scaled the Savoy
I have loved the best.
I have pondered my romance roadmap to digest
The degree and depth of complacency to destroy
Injecting zeal and zest in my quest.
I have committed to my soulmate my life in earnest
To rid romance of recidivism as a preferred ploy
I have loved the best
Injecting zeal and zest in my quest.
RETURN TO NEIGHBORHOOD II
There were sidewalks
The way to everywhere!
Tread of resoled shoes
Step-over cracks
Upward slabs mountain making
Skated-on
Spat upon
There were personalities
Runny skin to lifebuoy
Screaming!
Laughing
And then the flow
When sun when lights
were low
too tired to care
There was love
slightly understood
but needed
those mother-eyes
the womb-warm feeling
all mixed with kitchen smells
powder rouge
oh I fit so lightly
so actively young
Strive not for strife
But confront conflict on all fronts
When it strides past your ride
Dispense with all disputes
Spare not your fangs
When fear rears its ugly head:
When it rains; have a free cold bath
If sun shines, dry your clothes
At the reign of darkness
Find the inner light
That lights your path undimmed
If the flood flows
Swim afloat on lifebuoy
And if fire rages and smoke rises
Expect the afterglow
When horde of odds assail like bandits
Never retreat, nor surrender
Turn around, turn aside,
Never ever turn in nor turn back
Enjoy the war.
Strive not for strife
But confront conflict on all fronts
When it strides past your ride
Dispense with all disputes
Spare not your fangs
When fear rears its ugly head:
When it rains; have a free cold bath
If sun shines, dry your clothes
At the reign of darkness
Find the inner light
That lights your path undimmed
If the flood flows
Swim afloat on lifebuoy
And if fire rages and smoke rises
Expect the afterglow
When horde of odds assail like bandits
Never retreat, nor surrender
Turn around, turn aside,
Never turn in nor turn back
Enjoy the war.
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