Long Chauffeur Poems
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The crash has put the country in dire straits
But these two movie stars do not have similar fates
They descend the staircase in their fancy clothes,
Thinking everyone is rich, wearing wealth that glows.
The people in the restaurant are equally unaware.
That thousands are going hungry, wearing shoes with heels bare.
1932, they have diamonds, rubies, and expensive cars.
Art deco finery of restaurant aids the ignorance of these movie stars.
Daddies are out of the street, begging for milk money for their child.
Some were killed working the railroad, or in the dust bowl, not mild.
It is 1932, third year of America’s very worst depression so far.
Glamorous couple clueless as chauffeur takes them home in their car.
GOING with GUNS
Being an amateur photographer,
Off and on I use Flash Gun.
In photography, I am veteran
and taking nice snap shots so far!
My little grandson
owns a small Toy Gun.
He plays with it under Sun,
continuously chewing cocoa wafers.
To water pot plants using Water Gun
my wife enjoys with great fun.
This technique of watering, she prefers.
That man has hobby to hunt
wishes to give a stunt.
Flock of birds he aims
Tranquilizer Gun he claims
He happens to be my chauffeur.
I knew a terrorist, ready to fight,
always arrogant, roaming at night.
He used to be out as clock struck eleven
carrying A-K Forty -Seven.
Later he had to abandon
the dangerous Gun
and started to spread slogan
for Peace, his only concern,
turning a polite Philosopher.
04/30/21
First Place
'All Yours (May 21) Contest by Brian Strand
Limited is lower mind’s cognition
Yet it chooses not to, with heart confer
Pitiful’s become, our soul’s condition
Ego’s ignorance, casts on love a slur
Navigating life, like an amateur
When head melds with heart, erect is our stance
Surrendering, in childlike trust demure
God’s grace in-pours, when ends our resistance
God alone is, is our recognition
For in deep stillness, we feel bliss beats purr
God search has now become, our sole mission
No longer can we, our soul’s goal deter
Body is ageing, yet clear truth’s a blur
The time’s now, to alter our circumstance
Self-anointing in our heart, gift of myrrh
God’s grace in-pours, when ends our resistance
Love in love with love, grants us permission
Our life’s ride is smooth, if God’s our chauffeur
Renewing in our heart, bliss ignition
Hitherto dormant nodes, begin to stir
From root to crown, all our chakras too whirr
Our reflex response is staid acceptance
Enabling thus, smooth energy transfer
God’s grace in-pours, when ends our resistance
Blessings flow, as God wills it to occur
Soul ascends thus, with divine assistance
We dance with joy, seeing love and light spur
God’s grace in-pours, when ends our resistance
16-July-2022
ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING
My husband had a restaurant
For thirty two years,
Much frustration, kitchen hell
And staff in tears.
The Oasis was a place to dine
Of note,
When exhausted, we drove down,
To the coast and surfed the waves on our boat.
He was renown,
From Limpopo, to Cape Town!
But the time had come to relax a bit,
So he could read the daily newspaper,
And actually sit!
We sold the Oasis, renovated
Our kitchen so it could be his
Own place,
And of course space,
Where I am occasionally allowed
To show my face,
But only to make dessert or taste,
And with a kiss of somewhat haste,
Retreat to let him do his
Own thing,
And enjoy an absolute kitchen
Fling!
He cooks with his hands, soul and
And heart,
And he always dresses for the part,
Be it kitchen hand, chef or
Restaurateur,
He is, and always has been an excellent,
Interpreter,
Of any recipe as far as Beijing,
In fact he can cook anything,
From any Nation, culture or creed,
He has a flair that none can
Exceed!
And looks so cute,
In his dinner suit!
It’s time to serve dinner in style,
Which takes a while,
First he lights candles, then gives
Me a hug,
Pours me wine from our silver jug,
Serves us both and eventually
Sits down.
He had previously told me to
Dress in a comfortable gown,
I guessed he had some surprise
Up his sleeve,
For it was the eve,
Of our Wedding Anniversary.
A bell rings, it’s our front door,
There stands a chauffeur and behind
Him a limousine ,
I still didn’t know what was in store.
Until, the limosine turned towards
the airport,
My husband had packed my suitcase,
And brought my passport,
We board a plane and then he
Discloses,
To me with a bunch of roses,
That we were off to Mauritius for a week,
And, gives me a kiss on each cheek.
He had asked the pilot to please hide,
The roses, everything was so beautifully planned,
I just cried!
Happy Anniversary darling, he said.
I also had a surprise for him,
For he filled my life with such
Happiness, to the brim,
But I would keep this secret until
We arrived,
Happy Anniversary sweetheart
I replied!
You bought me as your loving pet; well trained and tamed,
From a cattle-fair; I was two; handsome; zestful;
You did not like cats and dogs as they turned nuisance -
I heard you saying to my owner when questioned...
You, further, wished your pet to work for you with love,
Carry you safe, far and wide, as a chauffeur does,
Guard your house, like a watchman, with whistle-like cries,
Entertain your wife, children and friends when needed...
For a few weeks you had fed me so benignly,
With silage, roughage, grains, oil seeds and rich fodders,
To find a friend in you first, I felt so happy;
Why this love of yours, like waning moon, diminished...?
To your single bullock-cart you tied me neck-tight,
Walked me to the carpenter who had made yolks,
I never imagined that this wooden sculptor
And the cart would become my constant task-masters...!
Running recklessly carrying you to joy rides,
Working tirelessly in your forest-like grain-fields,
Your ration to me got shrunk to bran and water,
As though to keep my breath within my skeleton...!
Castration quashed my creative reproduction,
Nails of my iron shoes pieced my flesh and bone,
Nose-rope shut down my sense of smell absolutely,
Lashes of your whip tore open my skin and veins...
I had collapsed, often, drained-off my energy!
You thrashed me; never thought of feeding or quenching,
Your pet turned skin and bone; reaching the brink of grave.
Will you find a butcher now, to cash on my death...?
I'll obey; because I still have some love for you;
I shall sacrifice myself; yet, with a warning;
Younger breeds are mot so kind; they might hit you back;
You might kick-the-bucket; if you so ill-treat them...!
26 June 2022
Personification- Pets Talking Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I felt tears trickling down. After so many years. All persevering truce is a magnificent allegory , measuring minuscule salt portions with a grandiose precaution. The immediate call will be the lasting diva:
“When you are finally done, please surmise in return, your chapbook!”
The transportation was arranged, and the vehicle showed up in the morning. The hospice arranged the transportation before. The chauffeur was not that talkative, precise only to the questions asked.
Supplication is an effort here, even in uttering “Rabbana Hablana…” the accessories and the serendipity get involved in nerves and encyclopedic volume and diction , in a wild effort to tear everything apart, the risk management is such a “man-age-meant” portfolio.
I was looking at the machine , the automated device. The loci is in tune with the locus. The orthodox locus is in a fix with the unorthodox worldbuilding, visioning together, altogether. Godly, God knows how to shun too.
On the return trip, the passenger window had swiftly dispersed overlapping montages, urbane, luminaries and delineations with road marks, here and there.
The nurse was simpering while seeing me off .
“Are you a bachelor? Widow?”
I was staring, bluntly. A root cause, even beyond a handle or shackle.
“Many feel nostalgic, overwhelmed or fatigued while the mammogram is in.
Mainly Freudian, “
In an effort to keep my cool, I reply,
“By the will of God, my kids’ father is doing fine. We are on our own.”
“Social, so shall, socialized.”
April 2, 2024
I was listening to music streaming through our Alexa the other day
when a song came on that reminded me of a friend who moved away.
Immediately this song became my personal chauffeur….
taking me on a drive through a forest of memories of her.
That same day I heard a song…it was one Elton John performed….
and I was driven to a group of friends…in my old college dorm.
I don’t remember their names…after all…it’s been so long….
but I remember there is happiness attached to that old song.
When I hear a song that reminds me of Deborah…
as I listen to its music and sometimes sing along
I’m transported to the moment we both first heard that song.
I suppose that’s why listening to music is so easy to embrace
because of its ability to transcend…to transform time and space.
When I randomly listen to music…happily …I never know
If it's a song that once touched my heart…where I’m going to go.
I’d like to spend more time explaining exactly what I mean…
how certain songs set me free…
but the music is still streaming
and it appears…my chauffeur’s calling me.
In 1959 when I was nearly ten
HRH the Queen Mother was in Kenya
and to an engagement on the way
with no escort whatsoever
in a black Humber Pullman Landaulet
my Mum and I who were the only two
on Forest Road (now Uhuru Hwy)
standing at the end of the drive
waiting by the Nairobi roadside
for Her Majesty to arrive
soon she came and leaning forward
tapping the chauffeur on the shoulder
to see our front garden she bid him stop
and admired in wonder the colourful three
bougainvillea which had climbed to the top
of a very tall silver birch tree
cascading like a waterfall in a riot of colour
then personally to me Elizabeth gave
(a treasured memory in 2024 at 74)
while gazing at our amazing floral display
a smile and the world-renowned Royal Wave
I'm always the supporting actor
I've never been the star.
It seems I'm always the chauffeur
driving someone else's car.
I've always been a loyal player
never the captain of the team.
It feels as if I'm playing a part
fulfilling someone else's dream.
I've always been a Joker
I'm feel happy playing the clown.
I find a sense of humour
helps make this world go around.
I'm honest and I'm loyal
although it doesn't always pay.
Some see it as a sign of weakness
where they can have their Way.
I do things without question
never asking what its for.
I let others share the plaudits
knowing I've helped is my reward.
After all is said and Done
we should be happy as we are.
For if God made us in his own image
then everyone's a superstar.
He caught a ride to somewhere going nowhere;
first hopped inside a slowed-down limousine.
The driver felt a chill and turned to stare
at someone seated in the back unseen.
A new car’s scent; the passenger smelled nothing.
The seat of luxury he could not feel.
The driver then off-key began to sing
to no one as he slowly tapped the wheel.
His passenger joined in and crooned unheard
that ancient tune “It was a very good year,”
his old blue eyes once clear becoming blurred,
and down his cheek there rolled a single tear.
Again compelled, the chauffeur turned his head -
then saw a small spot where the tear was shed.