Long Bounties Poems
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Father's here and also there.
I've come to see Him everywhere.
The flowers that bloom, the birds that sing;
Natures' gifts His bounties bring.
An angry sky, a perfect storm;
His children quake as dark clouds form.
Fury reigns and day is night.
God sends His son to give us light.
Then threats are thrown in someone's face
And lives are lost without God's grace.
A father grieves and women weep.
A child cries out in its sleep.
Should God alone the earth repair,
The poisoned air and land laid bare?
God left the earth in mankind's keep.
What man has sown, so shall he reap.
July 5, 2015
My seasoned Iroko
The Olumo rock
Of my spine
The one who climbs
Mount Kilimanjaro
With one step
I salute you
Mother,
Whose face is crisper
Than,
Bright, black stars, gold
And,
Precious diamonds of Africa
I salute you
Mother,
Who fearlessly tames fiery furnace
With bare fingers
Who kills one million lions
In a single raid
Quencher and killer of hunger
I salute you
Mother,
Whose slender arms
Are stronger than
The walls of Jericho
The fearless one
Whose Google
Makes men shrink
Between their thighs
The lone ranger
Who goes hunting
Without a gun
But,
Returns with basket
Filled with bounties
I salute you
Mother,
Kind landlady who nurtured me
For nine monthis
Without recouping rent
How can I forget
Your sugar soothing
Lullabies at bed time
And,
Your caressing, warm, tender fingers
Which,
Like the magic of baobab
Heal me from
Sickness and sadness
I salute you
Mother,
Whose dark, impenetrable wings
Immune me from
Sharp arrows of my traducers
Whose,
Angelic smile disarms
More than a billion
Straying demons
I salute you
Sweet, ebony, Mother,
The greatest of the greatest
The unproclaimed, undefeated,
Unheralded and undisputed
Champion of all heavyweights,
Killer and Quencher of hunger,
I salute you!
In the battlefields, weapons are volatile.
When the sinister charm of the angel of death preaches the gospels of chaos.
When the greed of bloodthirsty people defiles the purity of freedom, equality, fraternity, solidarity and justice.
In the mournful eyes of thirsty, hungry, exhausted and terrified soldiers, the tears of human savagery escape.
While the dramas continue endlessly.
The hills of skulls grow, the torn remains of heroes pile up.
The sad records of crimes against humanity are constantly being surpassed.
The overexcited parrots of war preachers repeat the xenophobic, supremacist and apocalyptic discourses of their alienation.
Testimonies of the horrors of their demonic madness are widely disseminated.
Innocent souls are sacrificed for vain bounties.
The smoking ruins of their shattered empire incense the dreams of these massacred destinies.
In the veins of their warriors blinded by barbarism, flow rivers of sorrow.
The throne of infernal power has never been underground.
These apostles chained the majority of human beings with the chains of hatred.
On the battlefields, the reaper reigns supreme.
Where is peace, where is this sweet heavenly light,
In this putrid world, trapped in the horrors of war?
Where is the love, where is the tender divine spark in this tumult of destruction?
Each life creates its own eternity. Living a life worth remembering is the first step. By Poet
We were sick and tired of the rife.
This harsh planet is fled to fend for itself.
But wait! We recognize another life.
We shall sway the earth but not strife.
We wobble much like a dying star.
Our souls go deep to the surface.
Our minds bide a dull fluid at night scar.
Like a liquid over an etheric furnace.
I long for days filled with hearty praising.
The ley, trees, and beck were once one.
Consistently, earth heeds to be reeling.
It's rung by a halo of a bold cosmic sun.
The tone of whim and the vivid reaction.
A ripe one might not exist anymore.
I can glide wherever, lacking inhibition.
I'm unfit to rate the topics I've got before.
All we are is drowsiness and apathy.
As we rise in the womb, our Souls grow.
Not void, but souls unveil God's mystery.
We emerge not naked but with fate's glow
We are to cite birth, life, and death.
Bounties beset us when we are young!
Loss shapes creep on the kid as growth.
Youth can note the light and find clung.
We shall die, but be unalive.
What does this mean to us?
A lender can be unused to contrive
It's the fruit of one else's cuts.
The soul cannot last long in the body.
Earth life has a whiny brat on the soul.
Only life can advise people to die godly.
Humans need eternal faith to be cool.
3Rd Place Contest Winner
Written: April 19
If I Were Immortal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Come with me now to story Land
Come rise and fall with our dear girl.
Pinch into her fishbowl powder
And grab a hold of her world.
Spread open the doors
In her chapel of fear,
And pray with us now,
As we beg God for forgiveness.
We paint the ceiling with our tears,
In spite of all our darkness.
Child of lovely
Lizards lounging.
And woman of
Wandering opioids binding;
Our novena begins
Disregarding,
Ladies in tuck and folding.
Push blame like dope sick junkies,
And manifest dank cellars flooding.
As together we plunder our bounties
On messengers in blight and poverty.
Please extend your arm and hand
We ask this in God's name.
Weak and failing in a moment,
To be washed in blood and tears.
Daylight slowly breaks over the land
things obscured now take form.
Details once shrouded in darkness
stand out now in stark relief.
Dawn symbolic in a renew of life
gives us hope of better things.
A new canvas that can delight
blank once yet now revealed.
Like a fresh fall of pristine snow
showing no sign of being trod on.
So does each flower and tree
stand proud as sunshine hits.
Life is much the same
each page waiting blank.
It is what we do or write
that like the dawn is reborn.
Make an effort to live
not just to only exist.
This way life's bounties
will satisfy your inner self.
I know you so well now
that I can instantly
capture your moods.
Watching
as the tide ebbs -
you regretfully reveal
hidden treasures.
Children with small nets
probe into
your very soul,
and seabirds
plunder your bounties.
If I listen carefully
I can hear you cry.
Oh but the tide incoming
is a different matter.
Water gently
chuckles through
parched crevices,
small creatures return
where they belong.
Behold, seaweeds dance
in joy, and
once again
rejuvenated
you count your losses,
lick your wounds.
Written: circa 1994
———
Gull Point is in the East Coast Bays of
Auckland, New Zealand. An old haunt.
A begging bowl, I scarce can pay thy debt,
Let me then indebted to thee remain
For life, to cherish thy bounties I get,
If I wish to give, wonder what’ll ye gain?
So then, I opt to sing paeans of praise—
A lay man plunged in hankering a heart,
A grateful toast to thee is all I raise,
O lighten up my life's much-loaded cart.
As thy child, pray help me grateful to stay,
Amidst all bounties blissfully less blasé,
By lures of life much less carried away,
Be thou indulgent to my wanton ways,
My destiny ‘tis to die dunk in debt—
Prodigal son of thine all so ingrate.
__________________________________
Sonnet | 01.06.2008 | son, prayer
Poet’s note: Man in his life span is so much under divine benevolence, he can never hope to repay his debt. All he can do is to remain ever grateful to God.
Autumn comes in all its magnificent glory
yet it's just a pause away from winter
soon all too soon the world will fall asleep
everything seemingly dead and withered
Autumn's pause is a time to recoup and rebuild
enjoying the balmy windy days of flying leaves
the days getting so short as we reap natures bounties
cold chill in the air, breath visible streams out
Now all the hibernating animals and insects disappear
to sleep through the long dark dismal days of winter
all around us now, a blanket of fine powder snow and ice
drifts of eight and more feet deep, cover all from sight
The time of mulled wine sipped in front of roaring fire
to hang the tinsel and deck the tree with baubles
smell of spices from Christmas pudding gently steaming
ah, those heavenly scents of gingerbread and eggnog
Now is the time to regroup and make future plans
soon it will be the time of rebirth and new starts
dormant lies the spring bulbs soon to break open
and once again flood the world in glorious colour
So once more the cycles restart, each one a beauty
slumber now while you can and wake up full of joy
to greet spring with light heart and new strength
enjoy always what you have and what is yet to come
Each Season of Living
By Michelle Morris
29/09/2024
The wind picks up
Changes to the season
From Summer to Autumn
The raining of leaves
Gold and orange
Yellow and red
Release what's unneeded
Trees teach us this lesson
The temperatures fall
The Earth slows down her pace
We breathe in the crispness
Of clean air in open spaces
We take stock of our lives
We cuddle and rest
We humans need to slow down
To conserve our energy
In Winter things die
We experience endings
Nature teaches us to accept
Death is not the enemy
Snow and quiet
Stillness and peace
Purity in thoughts
In words and deeds
When Spring comes around
We're ready to bloom
To expand our lives
Our hearts and rooms
We welcome new life
We learn and we grow
We know what it feels like
To have Joy and to Glow
We embrace the shimmers
We accept the Universe's pace
We know we have Angels
To bless us with Heaven's Grace
All that Happiness
All those Memories
Zen-like focus on our Gifts
Moments of Peace
The contentment we feel
Emotions inspiring Light
For we are all Warriors
In the Quest for what's Right
For when Summer arrives
Our Harvest is revealed
The bounties from Nature
Blessings are yielded
These cycles continue
Our Earth turns again and again
For each year that passes
Brings us Wisdom and Grace
As we connect to the Earth
And embrace Nature each day
We'll gather moments of pleasure
And become at one with her ways
The gains and the losses
The twists and the turns
Every single creature
Has its moment to learn
A lifetime of authentic living
If we commit to our Path
For we are infinite Souls
And our knowledge is vast
We are all connected
And Nature knows best
God's eternal Wisdom
Guidance and Blessings
Know that you're special
Know that Nature needs you
As you always need Nature
To reveal Life's Truth
So when the wind picks up
And the storms come in
You're stronger and wiser
Each Season of Living
© Michelle Morris, 2024