Long Hails Poems
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The Cooee-booroo was Irish, a migrant to this land,
who fled his native Galway and the grip of famine's hand.
For fifteen years he'd forged a life 'round Goulburn, New South Wales,
though sought his dream on Coopers Creek, out where the black man hails.
Where native Bootamurra folk for years were known to roam,
the place they called Thullung-gurra - their ancient tribal home.
Kyabra's unspoilt waterhole was home to fish and birds,
though Patsy Durack had in mind to bring his cattle herds.
'Twas here he met young Burrakin, a figure barely clad,
who claimed the man ... Boonari now ... to this young native lad.
Though Patsy called him Pumpkin ... much easier in the end
and like the humble vegetable he proved the bushman's friend.
For that proud Bootamurra youth, a whole new life began,
as Pumpkin loved the Durack folk and claimed them as his clan.
He watched them build their empire through the good times and the bleak;
for sixteen years he helped them build grass castles on the Creek.
When Patsy finally left the run to try the city’s fare,
he left old Pumpkin as head man and thought him better there.
Then Durack planned to build a run up in the Kimberleys:
an empire for his two young sons, a kind of legacy.
But Pumpkin yearned the company of Patsy, his dear friend
and left his old Kyabra home to join him in the end.
He stood by Patsy Durack till the old man passed away,
though stayed to keep the dream alive and rests there to this day.
These two Australian pioneers did leave a legacy-
the meaning of true brotherhood - as you can plainly see.
So whether you be white or black, do copy if you can,
the Cooee-booroo from Ireland and that Bootamurra man.
I have always enjoyed reading the early history of our Australian pioneers and the Durack
family certainly played their part in opening up this vast country. Sometimes the
seemingly minor characters, who become an integral part of that history, tend to fade
into insignificance with the passing of time. Characters such as Burrakin [Pumpkin] of
the Bootamurra people, whose life was completely changed by the coming of the Durack
family to Kyabra Ck. Burrakin's outstanding display of loyalty to his white brother,
Patsy Durack, is well worth remembering. My tribute to both men
Take me back to the days
Where the feel of texture and distinguishing colors among Africans didn't matter
Where the only word was black, and not pale or darker
Where the only weapon was loyalty upto royalty actually smarter
Where mother toung superiority excelled the rest was after.
Where rituals and ceremonies were significant in culture
Where oral traditions activities was a preservation of history.
Where inclusivity wasn't done based on tribe, status or age
Where inspiration and education was passed from generation to generation through storytelling.
Where people performed rather than spoke
Where the media was the speaker's tone, volume, and cadence
Take me back to the days
Where people did not blame nationality, ethnicity,
culture, economics and education
Where there was no colonial domination
Where there was no concept of slavery, racism or discrimination.
Where Africa was rich in culture and not the fallacy of primitive and a backward jungle
Where Africa was peaceful and not a race with guns and violent.
Where shouting am black and proud wasn't important because color didn't matter.
Where respect for elders remained an unbroken cornerstone in african culture
Where birth, marriage and burial rites was honored.
Welcome to the days
Where exporting and importing of cultures have become the trend
Where cultures travel through deserts, cross trade routes and through immigration borders
Where exchange disregards our notions of geography and race.
Where virtues such as hospitality, empathy, courtesy and respect is long gone
Where the only thing left are byproducts of culture.
Where multiculturalism has faded and everone hails on becoming one
The richness is not in Africa looking like Europe
What makes the world beautiful is in the diverse contributions
Welcome to the days
Where culture is paraded on an image of drum beating
Where media's notion is dancing naked or eating bush meat
Where in the midst of it all culture lost its definition
Where there is no importance in defending a territory with no boundaries.
Where technology dominated our land and mind
The struggle lies in reclaiming what is rightfully ours
I refuse to fall and cramble because I'm for the idea of sameness.
In the mind is where it all starts
I put no blame on culture, not my affliction.
In the shadow of the night, when the wind weaves endless spells,
There you stand, eternal rock, at war with time itself.
The night, with its new moon voice, whispers to you its secrets,
And you, living stone, clench your soul in the citadel of mystery.
Dawn brings you serenades from the infinite, hails you undefeated,
Watching as the universe regains its voice,
In the dialogue of the wind, in the celestial solstices,
You hide your soul, a relic, in a smile stolen from unbound times.
From the depths, the past measures you with ash-filled gazes,
Holding within memories sealed in ancestral oblivion,
You remember how you unleashed dreams, letting the music of your heart reign,
And you rest your forehead in the palm of eternity, dressing in the garment of silence.
Listening to the whisper of the cold seasons,
Your fingers open the frozen chest of your ancient pain.
Your soul, caught between two worlds, in crystalline silence,
Counts your heart's steps on the thin path of time,
Turning your gaze upon yourself, seeking in the mirror of the present,
Examining your eyes, lost among the leaves of time.
The wind interweaves its song with your being,
You are the rock in the face of the storm, the stone in the temple of the night,
Dawn kisses your existence with promises of strength,
You are the power, carved in the heart of the world.
With your hand, you capture the wind, hold onto the rock of fate,
Turn yearning into beads of dew,
Seal the pain in the stone heart, crown it with oblivion,
Embrace the infinite, bind your soul to the sky,
Tie spring to your footsteps, lighting your path,
And you walk the road of life, weaving a song of freedom with your smile.
In the magic of the night, you rise, an unyielding rock,
In the embrace of silence, you are an unsolved sphinx,
And as dawn spills its light, you take on its courageous song,
Living statue, in a story where each step becomes mystical.
The wind becomes your companion, lighting the candles of hope,
You hide in stone an eternal fire, a trap for forgetting.
In your hands, you mold eternity,
And your heart, a tall tree, embraces the sky in rare harmony.
Thus, on the paths of life, fearless, with spring beneath your bare feet,
You step to the rhythm of an everlasting song, in a world where every moment is magical.
Behind a Round Table:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
VERSE 1:
I'm a witness,...you're an audience,
Yes,...Christ and the church,
Abide to list of ineptness,
Meet a criteria of creche,
A lioness gifted with new furs from gold,
Love in their abode,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
VERSE 2:
Attractive and benevolent flower in the botany of a gardener,
It is purchased for a purpose;
providing rich scents,prestige and endeavors,
Beak of falcons wish to feed upon,
Doves and sparrows like it's leaves,
But they work in vain,
News about you and I is heard in the East,
Those from west come to view the feast,
From North comes Kings and Queens,
"Very adulterated with endearment",
That's the voice of the southern prominent, .
Three things attributed by love;hardworking,dedication and focus,
The head of one man carries the goals of perversion,
Joy and peace;they are the son and daughter of couples,
"Open your heart,...I.want to hide myself in there",
The man said,
Incredibly the voice of the woman toned,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Outro:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES....
Matrimonial seal our consolidation with angelic visitation,
Heaven then hails our glory with hope and laughter,
Day and night concludes our sojourn on the surface of greatness,
That's when death workouts its part with loneliness and weariness,
Feeding the belly of graves with our rotten vessel,
Stereo Man (It Takes Two?)
Stereo Man (It Takes Two?)
I’m a stereo man, and I carry two phones,
have two homes in two states (each sports car that awaits).
I’ve been married two times but find sin better match
for my partner’s been with me (a sign?) twice as long
as ‘pre’ marriages’ span. Was that somehow God’s plan?
Well, I feel twice as happy as ever before!
I’m a stereo man, with two billfolds, therefore
I don’t need a male purse and have less cause to curse
if one’s stolen or lost. I wear slacks (not sarong)
for two pockets behind (both have buttons to latch).
Got two mitts (and two feet), left one wipes, right to greet,
both born hooked to ‘dem’ shoulders or hips with ‘dry bones.’ (1)
I’ve two TVs at home, big screen’s shared with my friends,
small by bed (just in case I’ve an itch for some space).
There’re two friends (2) I love dearly, whose comments ‘are’ terse,
yet risk more than “I like it,” or “that one’s so great!”
But for many, this ask seems an unpleasant task!
What I’ve bared’s black and white! What friends take is my call?
Can a friend be too close? Those who take what transcends
all past warmth that they’ve known (don’t risk too), get outshone?
Or is taking what’s given a gift? (Not perverse)?
Must all friendships be work, dear? Why can’t they be fate?
Is a pleasure sought twice more my joy or a vice?
May one woman’s true love be sufficient, not all!
Long Tooth
January 22nd in 2022
Poet’s Notes:
(1) “Now hear the Word of the Lord!” - From an old ***** Spiritual Song.
(2) James Heaton is a friend I grew up with in Woodward, OK (who became
a chief technical writer for Bell Helicopter).
Mohammed Khan (who hails from India) is a great friend and poet I met on
PoemHunter.com. Poemhunter.com is also a free poetry website where those
who love to write poetry can post their poems and meet others who share
their passion. Mohammed’s passion is to give talented new poets exposure
in published books. ‘Author’s United’ is a small publishing house that he
founded to do this. It has released five anthologies that included several of
my poems pro bono. His dream is that book sales will make it self-sustaining.
GOD BLESS AMERICA! ( USA )
She is America ,
A specimen of limitless beauty
Interlocking diversity, united is the states
An abode, given to God for own
A realm freedom makes home
The model heaven replicates here
A near perfection, yet a standard
An ideal template to civilization
Brightest star amongst many
Canopy where compassion is native
Selfless in service, all benefit
Defender of universal justice
A fair police evil dread
An enemy, many misunderstand
Yet the good, wants a piece of her
America, an empire all-pervading
God bless America !
Your kindness, will never be a fault
A giver, never with a grudge
God bless America !
Hope of the oppressed
Your blood, a sacrifice to universal peace
God bless you America
Greatest land of noble Heroes
With warriors of universal appeal
Bravely wired, with liberation skill
America God bless your sacrifices
Humanity hails you and applauds
Heavens true embassy for real
Even beast as Eagle
Like others, support your resolve
Sincerely, this for you, my medal
My gratitude so measureless
Yes! I admire you
For am your fan for life.
Beaming and flaunting 50
Your territories is marked Golden
A beautiful bride,
All glimpses you attract
Just a piece of you,
Many memories perpetually treasure
Disembarking the wings of hope
Your change is ushered
Welcome to new horizon
A dawn of impeccable excellence
Continue as always,
Heal and change the world
All’s allegiance will not be corrupted
Once again, a new America is born again
To nurture ,nourish ,pollinate
And entrench the dream
Yes! He had a dream
A dream! , a dream!
The American Dream
A dream of change
God bless America
America blesses God.
Author: Felix Joseph Osaeghemede
(chumfin4poem@yahoo.com)+2348037825027.
Written: 8-10-2008 ;11-45pm-12-25am.
“The world needs to appreciate a country that is selflessly committed to global peace”
Felix.o.Joseph.
A SPECIAL DEDICATION TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA .
Form:
*The Boy Who cried German*
Although Ikeh was as nervous as ever he still gathered a little guts to address those sluts. He always did walk around in a jumpsuit like that suitor who visits Bisi everyday. His Igbo accent flourished with pidgin diminishes his English when ever he spoke giving room for the linguist in our school to use as a case study when talking of mother tongue nonsense.
His fanta face and coca-cola leg mama Nkechi describes as a factory error of the producers of caro white. That bow leg of his Malam Audu mai shayi laughs at privately but still hails him as the next Ahmad Musa. Even the father of raggae Bob Marley would have given him an award if still breathing, he always allowed the brown village dust to cover it giving room for lace n dandruff. What of his lips? Forget about its tattered looks, the village girls gossip saying his girlfriend must be crazy to kiss those, its huge structure like the camels in the movie "The Mummy"
Yes! His girlfriend Franklin
Only God knows where she got that name from. By birth her mama n papa called her Omoshewa Ajoke Babatunde but ever since she visited the city on her arrival changing everything concerning her heritage but that fool forgot to remove her Yoruba tongue always putting a "H" in place of an "A" she loudly calls "Abigail" "Habigail" or "Again" as " Hegain"
A perfect with him.
Alas!
He dressed in an America suit trying to adjust the tie he never wore, his huge feet in a rubber sandals trying to have mutual understanding with the rough village sands using his handkerchief to wipe the excess dust the white men vehicles left behind. His nose like the back of papa Michael 190 showcasing his mighty nostrils like the twins well beside Adaobi's house. He waved at the passersby to show he just brushed his brown dirty teeth.
Now in the podium I sighted Ikeh talking with Albert the German. The microphone was now handed to him
"Oh Lord" I said closing my eyes because I know he will make a mess of the presentation bringing room to the downgrading of our village. Then in seconds my heart sank on hearing his German English. The crowd in amusement
*So Ikeh can speak English fluently?*
Apostle Matthew encountered...
artist, dragon and gangster extraordinaire
Written September ninth,
two thousand and twenty one.
Reposted exactly three years later.
Here at 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Actually all three people
linkedin to each other courtesy
Dissociative Identity Disorder
(Multiple Personality Disorder).
Wiccan up to mystical alien way
I raptly listened as she didst soothsay
scanned -- din heavy yen reference
about paganistic folkloric history
regarding Sweden and Oslo (also) Norway.
The missus dubbed
aforementioned young gal "curvy girl,"
a zaftig smart young woman
super talented self taught herself
to draw, sketch, and paint.
Only unmarried millennial men need apply,
perhaps someone who hails from buckeye
state - ideally above average
humorous gallivanting fellow
plus somewhat meshuggeneh cockeye
Louie garden variety
wealthy eccentric recluse
who doth blatantly defy
establishmentarian paradigm
you rarely espy,
cause he stays sequestered
about dozen doors down
from (femme fatale) ha
said alluded to chick named
three faces of
eve vent jewel one named Jen Fry
easy on the eyes
courtesy me, a generic guy,
who experienced amicable chat
referencing aforementioned lass
the first encounter with her
found yours truly saying "hi"
devoid of ulterior motives
only casual acquaintanceship did I imply
cuz even if this former bachelor
(got married twenty fifth of July
nineteen hundred and ninety six)
hypothetically decoupled,
cuz the age difference between us
quite substantial qua aging baby boomer
born two years after Bridge
over the River Kwai
filmed - then rocked to sleep
courtesy Brahms lullaby
if fain to sire offspring with lass
(young enough to be my daughter)
kiddos would witness their papa to mummify.
Our friendly communication
peppered with structures of silence
coasted along with zest
and dialed up quite lathered dialogue
betwixt us I do attest
mutual comfort level quickly established
between yours truly
and said attractive beefy babe,
who possessed killer thunder thighs
shaking the entire firmament.
Electricity harnessed inside,
reproduced thin dimensions,
does a computer chip comprise.
Analog, digital and mixed signal devices,
are the classifications these can reach,
thousands, millions of transistors within minimal sizes.
The chips and integrated circuits find home,
with conductive wiring spun,
on circuit board's copper and electric roads.
Transistors are the key, they come in many types,
considered among the greatest of inventions,
they are the chips brain, and power many a device.
Resisters are placed to prevent bridging effects,
the metallic surfaces are bound,
with solder, an alloy of tin and lead.
Capacitors store energy, pins carry a current,
through the ovens they travel,
sometimes infrared lamps play the furnace.
In 1960 this technology matured,
but chips are not restricted,
to this process, some utilize wafers.
For wafers, silicon is the canvas,
on which the portrait is painted,
low material costs and good temperature ranges to manage.
Many layers make up a wafer's scheme,
it's silicon and aluminum are gray,
but refracted light gives way to reds, blues, yellows and greens.
"Etching" is the process,
of at least two layers of electronically interconnected wafers,
mounted one at a time, cut and polished.
Inexpensive creations, roll out the line,
like a newspaper, churning out new wafers,
instead of one at a time.
The circle takes shape to help prevent brakes,
to fit in as many chips as possible,
and machines can handle them easier this way.
Look close into the heart and observe,
that human mind behind the creation,
has left us a mark of his work.
Be wary dear chip, for though you make possibilities infinite,
with your uses many, and speed fantastic,
it can prove ill, pushing those limits.
In 1956 this tool rose from the mind of man,
perfected in the 1980's, it still gains momentum,
to think, it hails from the humility of sand.
It now can be found in many everyday things,
from computers to cellular phones and cars,
and most likely whatever our future might bring.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, we behold God’s love that greatly prevails*
With His compassionate omnipotence everyone hails
Subduing destructive hatred which sorely ails
For caring jubilation’s cheers against apathy-bitterness’ wails.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, God’s peace is seen reigning
Assuring us, His children, whose faith in Christ is leaning
Conquering our fearful hearts with serenity-gaining
Since doubts over us can never be winning.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, thanksgiving shouts are heard decreed
While we worship the Lord joyously, unmindful of time to exceed
Sin-slavery He’s vanquished to meet every soul’s need
Satisfaction-testimonies abound; neither about discontentment nor greed.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, triumph is tasted midst the Creator’s bounty
Dispelling hardships causing despair, anguish and anxiety
His help enables us to be diligent, fighting penury and poverty
Enriching us with labor’s fruits of productivity.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, the Saviour’s guidance keeps us settled
Leading us to His perfect will where we are safely handled
His wisdom directs us against being deceived and rattled
Thus, we overcome struggles tenaciously when embattled.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, we feel the Almighty's wondrous presence
Verily glorious, putting to shame our selfish goals of no value and sense
We then experience excellence along noble persistence
Against humiliation caused by worldliness’ vain insistence.
Beyond tomorrow and the future, we listen to our Master Who’s perfectly right
His voice is music to our ears as we show commitment-lights bright
Empowering us to be blessings with our good works’ might
As with servants’ hearts, we praise Him with gratitude’s delight.
*Isaiah 42:13 The LORD shall go forth as a mighty man… he shall prevail against his enemies.
October 15, 2019
5th place, "I Sense Tomorrow is the Future" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sheri Fresonke Harper; judged on 11/16/2019.