Long Forsaking Poems
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Once upon a time, this obstinate beastie boy
(i.e. yours truly, or none other than me)
fought tooth and nail,
(hence the reason I wear dentures)
against maturation, and sought
self starvation as modus operandi.
Adept at balking,
plus delaying, stunting and thwarting
transitioning toward adulthood
(mine spindle shank legs
to show and tell as proof positive),
yours truly fell short
(and stymied physical growth
regarding lame rascal
with size nine little feet to boot)
never to attain requisite
emotional, financial,
and spiritual independence.
When mysterious processes
courtesy puberty foisted
one garden state variety
(think generic) *****sapiens
transformed puny young slip of a lad
into adolescent long haired
pencil necked geek,
the genetic blueprint
already sabotaged prospect
for musculoskeletal framework
to attain maximum potential.
As an extremely shy,
(nay socially withdrawn prepubescent person)
strong aversion awoke toward segueing
from docile average non prodigal son
into grownup with
attendant responsibilities thereof.
Fast forward decades later
namely July fourteenth two thousand twenty,
when self condemnation
laments forsaking positive growth processes
(ordinary run of the mill bodily changes)
indeed nsync with linkedin social development.
Sometimes in Virginia when the scorching madness of xenophobia conspires
with a fragile, violent countenance, I fall to the darkest, bitter poison.
And in that carnage, a nation learns of impending destruction.
But the sounds of heaven like an unstoppable flood, poor over New Orleans and
comfort forlorn victims of embedded justice.
I am men, putting women in cages for birds, beautiful yet bound, loved but
unappreciated.
I am women, forsaking my sisters as they struggle to understand my privilege.
I tell you I am a paradoxical reflection of power and fear, love and vengeance.
And I am unstable.
And when the weight of unpaid wages reaches the precipice of doubt in young
impressionable prisoners of comparison, husbands shoot their children and run
to the abyss.
But I tell you there is a sound of redemption in Jill Scott prophecy and Bell Hooks’
gentle wisdom.
I tell you there is a sound of heaven that leaves me fearless, come what may.
Today, I went swimming with my daughter with a final exam the next day.
And in that moment, I knew that this crucible, does not rule me, bind me, or
define me.
Whatever this is, this unstable suffering of paradoxical reflection.
It does not rule me.
For I am an image of a sacrifice so sublime, that the gates of hell, pain,
conquest, or corporate idolatry cannot stand against it.
And in the end, I know peace forever.
Heal our land
On this busy lane our works do melt
Yet life in nature non could query
Fighting it from birth
Till in grave of less worry
Our hope is laid
On the teachings so given to the heart
Build our hope and let us glory in the lord
For all works are in vain on the mother earth
How pleasant is it being in heaven?
Than the waste we're in this land
Has history not repeat itself in our haven?
Forsaking God in the choice of whom to lead
Our choices are daily base on our glutton
Setting aside the future that's laid before us
That in ignorance do press a forbidden button
Making us aliens in our house
Yet celebration galore
In a self made failure
Oh our land is sick
In pain the saviour we seek
Joy from the inner mind is key
Not one from taooma and macaroni
This in a minute can make one pee
But only leverage on our money
Heal our land please
Please, please heal us all
The pain is much
And groaning is bigger than a mall.
©?olorunleke olorode
Beyond the realms of human ken
is knowledge barred from most of men.
Some things that Mankind should not know
lest in their ignorance they sow
the darkest seeds of evil kind
to spread like cancer in man’s mind.
Beyond the realms of human thought
are things ignored and are not caught
by those who will not lend their mind
to capture all the good they find
that in the cosmos spreads around
to counter all the evil found.
This battle raging with Mankind
is part of lifetime’s daily grind
where good and evil stand in line
and seek out those on which to dine.
Armageddon, here on Earth
with Mankind tested for their worth.
Their final battle's never won
as every lifetime joins the fun,
while some will rise to meet this test
there’s many more join evil’s quest
to rule supreme in Devil’s claw
forsaking all deemed by God’s law.
Armageddon, Heaven and Hell,
which of these will cast its spell
to mould your life, and Mankind’s fate,
which one will you let through the gate.
…………….But be aware that win or lose
............it’s your eternity you choose!
Ivor G Davies
Some people believe in taking it to their Lord in prayer
I on the other hand believe in tipping it into the seas in tears
I rain all my sorrows and joys in equal measure, into water, in all the forms she chooses to embody, she that is the healing arm of my mother Lobopo, for sweet release as she runs fountains down my cheeks and my eyes become pools filling up and spilling over with pent up emotions
she in turn soaks away all my aches and pains as I gain instant relief
My third eye receives and emits healing only when its fully emerged in her clear waters when they hold stillness
reminiscent of my great grandmother's gift of sight
inherited from her own great grandmother and she in turn from hers and so forth down the mortal coil of decendancy as committed to tribal memory
She is in me and I am partly her the healing hand of my mother metsi
She has always been the belt hoisting me to my ancestors since the day of my conception as I laid at rest in her being fortified before I entered the mortal realm
She runs deep in me as she oils, dilutes, cleanses, purifies and irrigates my being, to afford me the precious gift of life
I carry the distinctive mark of mother Gaia on me and it's a shining reflection of my original root that is planted on the banks of her rivers and even ponds all over my MamaLand
Planted within reach to her waters that keep my marrow moist and supple
I am a seedling of her fontanel Aferika where the pulse of life beats so raw, tender and bold that it leaves the bittersweet taste of nostalgia clinging to all the hearts she ever encounters
and all life forms latch onto her ample teat for sustenance
I give thanks to the arm of my mother water, for giving me life,
never forsaking me in my hour of desperate need
and for keeping me connected to the original source of my being Aferika
Form:
Athena takes me
sometimes by both hands
and we go levitating
through strange Dreamlands
where Apollo sleeps
in his dark forgetting
and Passion seems
like a wise bloodletting
and all I remember
,upon awaking,
is: to Love sometimes
is like forsaking
one’s Being—to drift
far beyond any thought,
forsaking the here
for the There and the Not.
*
O, finally to Burn,
gravity beyond escaping!
To plummet is Bliss
when the blisters breaking
rain down red scabs
on the earth’s mudpuddle ...
Feathers and wax
and the watchers huddle ...
*
Flocculent sheep,
O, and innocent lambs!,
I will rock me to sleep
on the waves’ iambs.
*
To Sleep, that is Bliss
in Love’s recursive Dream,
for the Night has Wings
pallid as moonbeams—
they will flit me to Life;
like a huge-eyed Phoenix
fluttering off
to quarry the Sphinx.
*
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,
Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.
Quixotic, I seek Love
amid the tarnished
rusted-out steel
when to live is varnish.
To Dream—that’s the thing!
Aye, that Genie I’ll rub,
soak by the candle,
aflame in the tub.
*
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,
Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.
Somewhither, somewhither
aglitter and strange,
we must moult off all knowledge
or perish caged.
*
I am reconciled to Life
somewhere beyond thought—
I’ll Live in the There,
I’ll Dream of the Naught.
Methinks it no journey;
to tarry’s a waste,
so fatten the oxen;
make a nice baste.
I’m coming, Fool Tom,
we have Somewhere to Go,
though we injure noone,
ourselves wildaglow.
"Often, in moments sweet, Nature gives us a special treat" by poet
How often do we wish for Xanadu
The perfect place, our paradise at last
Forever sunshine and skies heather blue
Xanadu, where Now will be long and vast
Time pauses, as moments linger and last.
Beyond the horizon, we'll find daydreams
waiting for dreamers who will also seek
breeze that whispers music dwelling between
thoughts brushing the mind or those more oblique
all part of Xanadu's lasting mystique.
Forsaking myth, nature can then remind
of forgotten treasures out our back door
wonders of nature we had left behind:
her bounty of blossoms and many more
garden Xanadu ready to explore.
April 27, 2023
for "Word Challenge--Words with X in Them" contest
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables=10
Wish, a tapestry of desires in life,
Some come true, others just fade,
Some may be for future, some are from the past,
All the wish shape our future and make us dream our past.
Wish, I could be a baby again--
I will be innocent, will be admired by all,
When I smile, whole world smiles with me,
Who said, love is a daydream,
When people love me, my love goes deep in their hearts,
I don’t worry about anything, I don’t have any stress,
God created me to love and be loved.
Wish, I could be a little boy--
With caring Dad and Mom, I did not need anything,
Carefree days of playing outdoors, stressful nights of doing homework,
Going to school, to play more than to learn.
Wish, I could be teen again--
Teen age years are fun, when you make best friends,
We did things together, we had all the fun,
Our goals and ambitions were getting set in place,
We worked hard to achieve before getting bad grades.
Wish, I could be adult again--
My carefree days extended little further,
I even got post graduate degrees,
Had the friends, I still remember,
Nothing can beat those worry free, fun filled years.
Wish, my love lived little longer--
Like two strangers we met on that life's road,
Forsaking everyone we had in this world,
Like two loving hearts strolling as one,
we made our journey together in the path’s unknown,
The fun and excitements of life,
we enjoyed together as delicate wine,
The pain and sorrows of life,
we shared together as bad dreams,
The joy and worries of raising family,
we cherished with sublime sweet emotions.
Now when you are gone so far away,
I envision you every minute with my poems and thoughts,
The monument I have built in my heart,
Is prettier than the marble domed wonder of the world.
You are so far away, but you feel so close to me,
I can smell the fragrance of your beautiful smile.
Sadly, I miss your presence every day,
But it is a nice feeling to be so close even you are so far away.
Wish, I could make it shorter—
I had many desires of making it big,
Nothing much happened, retired as ordinary being,
Now I am in an age of redemption,
Helping needy with whatever I have,
Hopefully I will die one day peacefully,
Leaving my mourners cheerfully,
That the man had a dream, fully accomplished.
In the still of the night
I hear you whisper
Your voice flies on the air
Coming to me at twilight
The still made ever crisper
By your words so fair
From a world away my love calls
And I hear the gentle sound
As it lightly caresses my ear
To her knees she falls
Praying her love is found
My voice will calm her fear
She feels my hands in her hair
Tugging the strings of passion
Tilting her head to me
Catching her breath in my stare
Master of her vision
Letting her soul be free
A million miles apart
Within my words she is never lost
To her existence I spake
The lord of her heart
My vow to her is cast
Her trust to never break
To our own universe we go
Forsaking all others we go
This one thing I know
My love she will know
This precious gift to her I send
To love her forever and to the end
The day we meet and make our paradise
I'll take her hand and make her mine
Around her neck I place the strand
Together beyond the rest of our lives
Through neverending space and time
Collared by my loving hand
My love is powerful and deep
My hold is firm and hard
Driving forward our existence
Her heart in mine I keep
Never shall it be marred
Giving in to my insistence
Oceans between us
Hearts together as one
Souls once united
Oceans of love
Hearts ablaze
Souls entwined
In the still of the night
It's my name she whispers
At it's sound my soul does flare
Dancing in the firelight
Her image in the cinders
The flames hold my stare
In the still of the night
She comes to me
As I was halfway through my flight and half asleep,
I began to dream about an elderly gentleman sitting
next to me. In the dream, after saying his name was
Dudley, he started telling a story about his early life
romance and enduring marriage. What amounted to
a dream about a dream, Mr. Dudley's story upended
my sleep and with all ears in, I began to listen as he
went on to say:
"There was a 16-year-old girl named Sweet,
and a 19-year-old young man named Sitruc.
They had a very short season of romance.
She was not the one that 'got away'. She
simply was among several that 'went away'.
Before Sweet, there was a childhood sweetheart
named Max. And after Sweet, there was Beauty,
Pretty, Charm, Rose, and Stunning.
Looking back, I have concluded that none of them 'got away'
but simply 'went away'. Yes, they all went away like yearly
seasons. Like the early rains of Spring, they showered upon
me a sense of exuberance, fascination, and infatuation. They
were sweet and wonderful, but a lasting relationship was not to be.
Like dramatic scenes in a play, they walked
across a stage of my life, played their roles,
and moved on, as did I on their stage of life.
There were some tears, but the curtains closed.
They were all genuine, and not one of them was
ever really seen as the one that got away, but
I suspect their purpose was to 'make way' for Honey,
the one that I met and married. She was not the one
that got away, nor one that went away. She was the
one in 1970 with whom I fell in love and caused me
to forsake all others for her. I have been forsaking
ever since, and we have been married for 50 years".
As the plane touched down, I awoke from a sweet
sleep and a most wonderful dream.
91422PSCtest, The Mystical Dream. Anoucheka Gangabissoon.3P