Long Clumsiness Poems
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All in the name of desires
I fly through road on tyres
To Ibadan where lies compliance
For standard of four years reliance
It is my right
To vote my choice
God, shine Your light
Speak minority's voice
Choose for us the man of people
That won't lead us away Thy steeple
A man of love, concern and readiness
Cum courage to settle Nigeria's clumsiness
It is Your will to elect
Right man for the moment
To save every left defect
Of past government
How can you love this land
And want to earn her command
Without loving her fruits
Yet you think of you it suits
Just for the sake of name
Voting turned a game
Just to book national fame
The process goes off aim
In order to avoid national shame
Forgotten no one dares disclaim
Whoever God has put up to frame
For the glory of His name's claim
Upon those who bypassed to exclaim
How mighty Almighty does reclaim
The Sodom He wouldn't mind to nickname
Israel despite hell burning flame
Here we are dying in peace declaim
Of violence brutally does maim
Before it brings out fire aflame
For Gomorrah sins growing out of blame
Save us oh Lord
Heal us dear God
Dying in fake accord
Yet letting go is odd
AMALINA: THE QUEEN OF SHEBA
To the Queen of Sheba.
Unraveling of your thesis and your folklore
To devour your whole body in form of study
Zipping the raw facts in the mind's lobby
Trying to digest them, stew over them
As I reach for my wine glass stem
So I let them simmer on the back-burner,
The knowledge of you is never in conclusions
The whole of you: regurgitate all in discussions
Diverse shades of you cooked up in explanations
Hoping they do not seem half-baked from head to toe
Your eyes were glittering jewels that seized my soul,
Take me to Sheba and witness my ecstatic reign
And your dry ground be wet with heavy rain
To wash away your clumsiness and depression
And give your life sense of homeliness and expression
Sail with the westwind to blow you ashore
Right at the lake of rough diamonds,
The kingdom of King Vick the Solomon
To drink from the ocean of wisdom
And bask in the affectionate comfort of Cupid
Having being shot afar in the Queen City,
The Grenfell Tower couldn't shield you from these arrows of love
Emanating from the base of Lagos City,
The City that never sleeps and never seek pity.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 29th Aug. 2017.
My shoes have traveled miles of roads
Their soles are worn quite thin
Struggling with this heavy load
I carry deep within
Beyond repair, no longer shine
Scuffed with many stains
It's mostly been an uphill climb
Some sunny days, some rain
A little big when they were new
With ample room to grow
This green stain here on my left shoe
Was puberty's first blow
Those salt stains there, that's sweat and tears
Still damp from being heartbroken
They've darkened some throughout the years
Old wounds that were reopened
There are no stains from happy tears
I finally understood
Obviously they disappeared
Right after parenthood
All these scuff marks 'long the sides
Well they're from clumsiness
From times I fell and hurt my pride
A reminding subsequence
They've danced and skated, loved and dated
Walked a few high wires
Death devastated, been mismated
Even walked through hell's hot fires
It's said that one can tell a lot
By looking at one's shoes
Until you've worn these shoes I've got
You really have no clue
an original poem by Daniel Turner
NOT FOR CONTEST
She calls you up and speaks your name
you change your plans like that
Now you'll never get through
what you started to do
Intentions all squashed flat
She walks in from the bus stop
her feet are soaking wet
In fuzzy slippers, flowered shawl
and burgundy fish nets
Her braided hair is frizzy now
done up black and red
She takes your hand and kisses you
as she pulls you towards the bed
She spills her chocolate milkshake
with a fling of her free arm
Her clumsiness just makes her mad
but it’s all part of her charm
She flits happily about you
like a dainty butterfly
And views the world in wonderment
forever asking why
There’s a playful charm about her
that helps set her apart
She's a beautiful distraction
who's out to win your heart
FOR NATALIE written about my youngest son's girlfriend
Falling leaves dance their last waltz
Ravishing hues of reds oranges and golds
Indulge with me in this wonderland
Sacrificing reminiscences of summer fun
Kingdom to those who relish in the moment
Yearning to be one with life in all its glory
Absolute bliss as we walk hand in hand
Utterly at peace with the brisk autumn air
Tantalizing scents of crisp earthiness
Ushering in a foretaste of wintry delights
Magical brittle notes beneath our feet
Nocturnal luminescence flickering
Dropping behind not keeping the pace
Apology for sudden awkward clumsiness
Zealously choreographing maneuvers
Engagement ring in hand down on one knee
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 27, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE S sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
They brought me the child
long before he became a man feared for his deadly silence.
He sat at the edge of the chair
like the edge of the world itself,
watching fingers twitch,
watching mouths bend into counterfeit smiles,
watching fathers slam doors
two seconds before the storm arrived.
The others called us “too sensitive.”
But sensitivity is merely pattern recognition
without anesthesia.
He learned early
that love could arrive holding flowers
and leave carrying a weapon.
That footsteps in hallways
forecast weather better than television.
That a tightening jaw,
a shifted glance,
a laugh half a second too sharp
could predict catastrophe
with mathematical precision.
So the nervous system adapted.
Not badly.
Brilliantly.
The brain became a lighthouse
spinning across black water,
searching endlessly for wreckage.
And eventually
the search itself
became the illness.
Because when humans survive enough fires,
they begin smelling smoke
inside rainstorms.
They read danger into pauses,
betrayal into fatigue,
violence into ordinary human clumsiness.
The amygdala, overworked old sentinel,
no longer distinguishes
between a wolf
and the vigilant rabid memory of one.
This is how extremes are born.
Not from madness—
but from repetition.
A person cornered too many times
stops living in the center of the room.
One memorizes exits.
Studies eyes.
Measures tone.
Dissects every syllable
like a bomb technician clipping wires.
And the tragedy—
the terrible, clinical tragedy—
is that that child is often correct.
Just not always.
But “not always”
is where relationships come to die.
Because eventually
the loved one says:
“You think everything is an attack.”
And the wounded mind whispers back:
“No.
Only the things that look exactly like the last one.”
In my profession
we give this elegant names:
Hypervigilance,
trauma response,
hostile attribution bias.
But beneath the textbooks
it is merely this:
A human being
who learned survival then fare well.
“All the world's knowledge is now at our fingertips. But the same technology is robbing us of interpersonal relationships and deeper insights.” - By Poet
I stretched my cupped hands,
To hold the manna dropped from above.
Through the gap between my fingers,
Much of it leaked away.
I deeply regretted my clumsiness,
For wasting what I could have saved,
As every drop of it being so precious.
But soon I got over my remorse,
As, I saw a dog licking it up,
Appeasing its gnawing hunger.
Thought of the poor Biblical Lazarus.
Had Dives been extra careful,
Not to drop even a crumb of bread
He would have died of starvation!
As this thought came to me,
A new insight dawned on me.
Letting go off was now easier.
Slowly knew, there was greater pleasure,
In sharing than in hoarding!
Your Fantastical Love:
I donot want such time that will erase the lines of your face
Nor the sound of your heart beat
I donot want my future hubby
To shed his precious tears.
Black horses hooves run
This Will encourage our true pure everlasting love
By their sun shinny black beauty
I donot want such time that will erase the lines of your face
Nor the sound of your heart beat
I am directly talking only with you
with my fantastical love,
I have great imaginations for our bright future
One day I will wake up
In a bed
In a house
Near the forest
Near the water
One day I will wake up
With you by my side
You will smile at me
Kiss me
Make me breakfast
Play with our children
Laugh at my clumsiness
Hold my hand while we watch tv
Put our children to bed
Sing them lullabies
Kiss me goodnight
And tell me endless stories
That I will giggle at
You will hold me
Till I fall asleep
You will smell my hair
And feel like
The luckiest man in the world
But until that day
I will wait for you to realize
That I can make you
The luckiest man in the world
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran
The Dreamless
Now that he had freed himself of the past looking forward
to think thoughts not hampered by dreams of childhood and
the embarrassment of teenage years and sexual clumsiness
falling in love with the most unsuitable and undesirable person possible because she made hot waffles with blueberry jam and sometime strawberry; he still thinks of his horror when his mother thought that woman was a suitable bride for
him mainly because she was stupid and malleable.
It was that beginning that in the end made him break with his past and declare families and danger for civilization, a dagger
in the heart of the future, that must be free of sentimentality.
He liked to sit in bars drinking gin&tonic and watching people before walking to his nearby hotel. Yes, he lived at a hotel because it saved him of the domesticity of paying bills
and fretting about the price of potatoes.
He thought of the German/American writer who said he liked his own company, if that was true how did he know, being drunk most of the time, Not like him who enjoyed his leisure
while waiting to write an earth shattering Novel.
Not to forget the sainted EH, who wrote like a simpleton and
won a Nobel Prize. His contempt for him was endless.
Walking to his hotel in the old part of the town, a boisterous
pig on a balcony fell off and nearly hit him.
The owners of the pig, seeing the animal was mortally wounded, quickly killed the pig by slitting its throat, before it died proper, this to avoid eating a self-dead animal.
This was a shock if the pig had fallen on him he might have ended up in hospital, worse, not being able to walk again
Since he had disowned his family, he had to change his plans.
He would marry an old tart, that had lost her attraction, rent her a flat, give her money for nice dresses, visit her once a week and tell neighbors he was a traveling businessman.
When down with the flu, she could take care of him as it was in her best interest to keep him alive.
Happy now that his future was sorted out, he went to bed and
slept, a night void of dreams.
Where does it all come from...
Our every thought and what we feel?
As basic urges give way to instinct,
And thoughtful action seeks to heal.
Now some may oversimplify, this
Cause and effect stimulus and response.
As if complexity was not even present,
Only Pavlovian drooling, though nonchalance.
This may include some history and experience,
To shade and color the specific event.
After all, the difference between surprise & shock,
May lie somewhere between everything sent.
While temptation may yield to psychology,
That analysis is destined to be incomplete.
Since ignorance is the primary mentor,
And our wisdom may seem obsolete.
Is it possible for a a full understanding,
Where prediction would reward along the way?
Or does evolutionary change continue to
Raise the bar, & that will always stay.
What seems definite is only a teaser,
Just a snack to satisfy before the meal.
Because our hunger is far more curious, &
It won't settle for table scraps in the deal.
So while our interest may be endless,
We may never have the complete view.
Leaves me to wonder if it's due to our clumsiness,
While stumbling along without having a clue.
Whatever answers are there awaiting us,
I'm sure of one thing to grant me some peace.
That is no matter the origins or journey,
Our efforts will continue to know this masterpiece.