I'm unsure of an image popping up in my head
A dot locates alongside a crowd, with a space reserve
Until now, of its decay from the fresh dark to pale light
Which has been started the image once begun to alive
It's been never so sure of that the disparity remained
As a balanced attraction and repulsion needed in-between
It's made affluent independence when the heart flies
Also, so much loneliness if solitude surpassed the edge
I now disclose this picture to let it to be identified
How is it genuine or illusionary generated in rubbish time
the soundless gong of Om reverberates
the primal word, source of all creation
rapture rises in each node bliss locates
we dissolve becoming God’s vibration
Your candle locates a gas leak
You said out loud Putin’s a freak
Your brake pipes might even corode
But jello ain’t meant to explode
You may one day fall out of bed
And get a big dent in your head
You may get run down in the road
But jello ain’t meant to explode
Get cut by an old rusty nail
Or both of your parachutes fail
You may touch a poisonous toad
But jello ain’t meant to explode
A rock makes a hole in your boat
You’re knocked off a cliff by a goat
You should be safe in your abode
But jello ain’t meant to explode
She never cleans me
I thought he might break down and do it
Because I have seen him wash up the microwave
And yesterday he rinsed the sink
I am smelly, sticky, and irritated.
There is crusty gunky stuff in my basement
Drips of ketchup and syrup have hardened on my shelves
I feel disrespected, dishonored, disheveled
And I am disgusted
Here he comes to get something
If I could hide it I would,
Maybe it would force him to clean me
Deep sigh as he rumbles around in the Tupperware
He finally locates the cheese that he wanted
Why don’t you say something? Milk demands.
I don’t talk human, I tell him.
None of the refrigerators do.
( Photo no.4 )
Colours of love brighten and lighten soul-tides
Its theme and stream ensures the all hearts-motion
People used to wish and cherish to reach its melodious sides.
Impact of colours decorate and narrate life-theory
Just throw and sow colourful seeds
Crops of love will grow and glow suppressing
sorrowful sad-dowry.
Love locates and illuminates up colourful life aspects.
So let's ensure and secure its presence everywhere
Colours promote a remote results filling the life with lovely defects.
It's roots are a foothold
To a mainstay stem
That shoots arms so strong
To hold person and string
Rope and note in his bag
Dire fully, he scrutinizes it
Till he locates a stronger hand
Fit to send him to dead-land
Throngs are amassed, astounded
Officers seek for testaments
His loved ones are richly wailing
Now he's like a drooping ceiling
At our illuminating service,
Whether at home or in the office,
Many preferring to it handle,
For worships reserving their candle…
You lose old torch for new one find cash:
The joy while in a dark space Glorious flash!
For brightness I’d save for battery,
No need in darkness one jittery…
No torch ever sends packing the night,
Only to perimeters give light,
With none ever liked for sights dim:
The chances of user smiling slim…
Not what you find with a younger child,
Rather a lantern like child not wild;
For fishing out people at night thieves,
Whom you’d hailed in the day time “Chief!”
A Paraphernalia of hunters,
In feared forests at night one saunters;
With torch easily locates target,
As some from bright flash escape forget…
The Not-Held by a security
His night shift stripped of sincerity.
Brahms pushes a piano into my ear.
I hear the stool creak as he sits.
He does not introduce the music,
he expects me to remember it,
know it, eat it.
He lights up a Havana,
clarinet and violin cough
inside a woody cochlear.
Viola takes hold
of a long nostalgic ligament
loosening a stirrup bone.
Bearded old Brahms
shifts from one large butt cheek
to another,
chords shudder
the music trans-locates us
as we share the lingering hint
of Bratwurst
on his nicotine stained fingers.
Not being musically trained
I am grateful
to accompany a cello and viola
on a kazoo
shaped like a nose.
Lingers, eyeing victims
Locates the easy hunt
Lurks behind plants and trees
Lively stalks the loser
Launches brutal attack
Leisurely relishes
Leaves mission accomplished
14 March 2022
In Search Of Prey Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
lone buzzard drifting
along steady wind currents
locates fresh roadkill
written August 22, 2021
In that calm before the storm
tranquility’s bittersweet,
though, no two tantrums are alike,
nature self-defends;
Never staid,
she rides her tides hanging ten
and reaps her reward.
The prize is not always golden
but the fight is necessary.
The wandering breeze locates her
opponents and she’ll throw down
the gauntlet;
accepting the challenge,
we weather the storm.
In downtown Denver, people
Zip around without a care
On the scooters that the city
Lets them access everywhere.
They are ridden on the sidewalks
So whoever gets the urge
Locates one that's sitting idly
With a battery's full surge.
They're not found in New York City,
Where shared bikes are what folks use
But if they make an appearance,
I think Citibikes would lose.
It's a vision of the future.
Walking, one day, won't exist
And perambulation, possibly,
Won't even be much missed.
The bee knows to find pollens;
the spider, to bridge a gorge—
driven, as in the blood.
Stream follows a slope
and locates the sea
in a rustling meander,
gathering moss, throwing up gloss.
None can stymie the racing sun,
or slow the course
that providence set
till decked with a garland
of purple rose.
It's in the blood;
in a genetic transmutation
wrought by the ageless hand
that sculptured and hungq
floating moon and winking stars.
The sun cuts through dense jungle,
drills a way in pitch darkness;
he sucks honey from rock,
draws the fury of fleas in the lea.
Cry against his blazing rays,
the scotching heat,
but hug the warmth lest
winter whines while summer
flees for lack of spring.
© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi
Cat in the Christmas tree,
smacked ornaments will flee,
from furry paws, at play.
Catnip toys will be found,
all over the ground,
in a shredded-paper haze.
The tree now tilts,
ornaments are spilt,
as my cat locates nip-filled prey.
Happy fur ball,
bounces off walls,
the rest of Christmas Day.
Written, 12-16-18
For: Christmas Pets - Writing Challenge December 2018 - Poetry Contest
sponsor: Dear Heart
de Kooning locates his scene
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