Long Hale and hearty Poems
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It was when I reached my fortieth birthday.
Not so young, but, youthfulness ruled the day.
I was known as an educationist, around,
My intelligence and wisdom, they felt, was sound.
Not many were invited to my birthday party,
My friends said I looked hale-and-hearty.
Cut the cake and with all simple meals shared,
I felt, as though by all, I was loved and cared.
It's when I stood to thank each one that evening,
Something tucked my tongue for no evident reasoning.
I stood silent, shocked, perplexed and lost,
None could understand what had happened to the host.
I tried to talk. I could not. Tried again; failed!
Not knowing my state of mind my friends hailed.
When, after hard trials, like dew drops, my tears spilt,
All, around, understood. Lo! There’s some tilt…
They took hold of me and asked me what happened,
I could not articulate; all seemed so saddened.
Doctor - some said; That's what they soon did,
None could remove from my tongue that lid.
I, an orator, remained speechless. Is it God's work?
Or demons do such tricks that God gets the jerk?
I resigned to the state of affairs and remained silent,
Everyone around understood this and became quiet.
I felt my trouble is nothing before John Milton,
I could see; he could not; My path is, hence, silken.
Pain in me, yet, grew, like fire in a dry forest,
Though I seemed silent, within I had great tempest.
Having found no remedy in treatments mountainous,
I turned to God, who is bundle of boundlessness.
I surrendered to him and said - Give me speech -
In return, I will, your glories ever preach.
In return? O fool! What would you give God?
Inner mind said. What could to God you award?
It's, hence, I lay before him, as though dead,
As mute as a muted lute, I went ahead.
In one of praise and worship during night adoration,
I could feel, within my tongue, certain restoration.
Is it reality or illusion? I did never know,
Dumb will speak, scriptures said, if believed so.
I believed; trusted; relied on his immense power,
Many prayed during that very long operation hour.
I talked. They could understand me as before,
Does anyone know, yet, the truth within the core...???
God and God alone is the truth I firmly say,
Without him, for salvation, there is no other way...!
24 October 2022
ER: Enlightenment Recovery Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Once upon a time in Erin land,
the sun smiled on the people
the rains communed peacefully with thunderstorms
Erin flowed with palm wine and palm oil,
And her children drank to their fill
Oba Adeniran, was a great king,
loved by both the gods and his people.
Providence favored Oba Adeniran
Oba Adeniran had two healthy sons.
Now, Oba Adeniran must name a heir out of his two sons,
Or, he may lose the throne upon his demise.
The happy Oba had no worries.
His two sons were hale and hearty.
Omo-oba Adedayo loved his younger brother above all;
but he was nothing like his father in nature.
To him, the throne is his birthright,
So also are beautiful women and sweet wine.
Omo-oba Adegboye unlike his elder brother, was a hater of law and lover of war.
He too wanted the throne and so spilled his father's blood,
Somehow by providence, his mother and brother escaped.
He’d crossed the thin line between love and hate
Omo-oba Adedayo raged with vengeance.
He must avenge his father and reclaim his rightful throne
He rallied allies and built an army
His mother scraped her knees, and washed his feet with warm tears of love
But he won't yield to her plea for peace and truce.
It's better to forgive and rebuild, than to revenge and perish, she warned
Too late, the battle had begun.
The two princes came upon themselves
One fighting a just course and the other fighting a lost course.
He who lived by the sword, died by the sword
The good prince defeated his younger brother, and reclaimed his possession.
The queen mourned for months.
Husband and son dead, yet the throne lived
The victorious prince celebrated his victory with wine and women.
Thence, the die was cast, he must be crowned.
But then, tradition must take it's due course.
No coronation for a king who has no heir.
Omo-Oba Adedayo must beget a heir
Years upon years went bye, but no cry of a baby
Alas, Omo-oba Adedayo has a dead manhood.
A disease, his souvenir from women and Alcohol.
Now, the crown must move on, to another bloodline.
And it happened once upon a morning
Erin land awoke to see Omo-oba Adedayo’s body dangling from a tree
A deliberate escape from the shame of failure.
Till date, no one either remembers Oba Adeniran
Or any of his two foolish sons.
But then, the crown lives on, and has never been forgotten.
Five-year-old Roozie rushed to Mom :
- ‘Are you going to Book Fair ?’
Mom nodded ‘ Yes, but you are not to go.
Roozie - ‘ This isn’t fair.
You don’t care
for me ! ‘
Mom - ‘So far I know,
you don’t like to study at all.
For you I will buy bat ball.
Last year I bought you nice picture book,
Few pages you took
out and pasted on wall.
Book was spoiled, wall looked dirty’.
Roozie- ‘ I’m hale and hearty.
Why had you bought books without my consent ?
It was your fault. I’m just innocent.’
Mom- ‘On page of the book,
you have put remarks of your own.
Few pages were torn.
Not good.'
Roozie - ‘ Don’t be rude.
Rhymes were incomplete.
So I had to write some sentences to match it.
It was written that ,
pigs had no hats.
They must be sad.
I wish to feel them glad.
I was considerate to claim
hats for them.
I added extra line
to make all fine.’
Mom - ‘Dusty fair ground ! You have allergy to dust.’
Roozie- ‘So what? Buy mask just.’
Dust proof Masks were available , rather
You didn’t bother
as price didn’t suit you.
That’s my view .
But I know, Honey !
You had enough money.
Mom- Okay. Which type of book do you need ?
I’ll buy indeed.
Fairy tales, fun stories, stories of ghost ?
Which type do you like most ?’
Roozie- ‘I am least interested in books, Dear !
I’m making it clear.
My only urge
to have Extra large
fluffy cotton candy sold
( as I have already told )
only in Book Fair !
Please do care.’
Start Singing to the Choir
What would you really rather do?
Have delightful dream that does come true;
Maybe a great game will want to go to
Where all of the players you would know.
Each place with friends no matter where I went,
By the Lord Himself I had always been sent;
Book in Bible decided He wanted me to write
If with me it certainly would be alright.
Was my biggest assignment I ever had
And when it was done boy was I glad;
Never charged a send and did it for free;
Went and did write book of Deuteronomy.
To read Bible God has the strangest ways
After finally finished had to give God praise
Several days passed by and were gone
When He wanted me to write book of John.
Roaring and raving mad was almost stark;
God told me to write about Noah and the Ark
About people and animals who were aboard;
Each one of them lividly loved the Lord.
I'm no longer a teenager and fully grown
And now have a Bible of my very own;
What I still like about mine the best
Is by God and Jesus it has been blessed.
Each time when Bible is in my presence
I love its each word in every essence;
Got older and days of my life increased
And my parents wanted me to be a priest.
There are ten commandants I can count
And Jesus gave great sermon on a mount;
Being I'm of great health, hale and hearty
Church gave me a house-warming party.
And guess what to my wondering surprise
They said again I started to sermonize
Now at church each time when I am there
Forget sermon and for us give a prayer.
Service is short, sweet, simple and exquisite;
Each and every time when you pay us a visit
Before you expire give your whole entire,
And join so you can start singing to the choir.
http://blog.chrisrowbury.com/2014/09/if-not-now-when-start-singing-now.html
James Humorous Humongous Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
www.story-telling-around-the-world.com
SATIRICAL: SATIRIZED EUPHONY
Hissed her path to say No
As amulet dangled on her' dandled
Tis so sweet to trail the forlorn
As no help came to a hearty hut
On the rafter was a treasure kept
To a loned little hut in heart of jungle
Whose roof raised and dimpled the raffia
Oh the taste of thy loin in abject senescence
Could have risen over to thy spur, twilight!
To the cast of thy shadow clothed by Sunset
If thee ! Little in our heart; you can remain!
Remain lots more for a thousand memory
Would have climbed the hill to balcony Eastside
Sat our mind to watch of thy loss in a ruffle
Oh ! To Ayede the colossal quorium ; herb arrays
It was a pleasure; dressed in the ragalia of moon-dance
In no time, the moon danced
Called the hale and hearty
To the festive centre of living
Dressed in all forms of grandeur
If we return thy essence
If we can return thy licence
Relive relive live and relive
The old days are set to be back?
There we can see the hut in teeming rescue
See the village square on a vibrant display
Reposition the jungle to a centre of living !
On no doubt set in quantum effect, euphony!
Wear the garment to center of gravity
Around the corner close to pyramodal pivots
In dance, high in spirit to the beat of time
Even if this time is interspersed on euphoria
Sucks the shin onto her golden anklets
To terrain the path where to kiss the Sun bye
Lettuces found on path to fetttled garden
To give a welcome relief to her longeth despiration
Overjoy not in the surplus of thy making
As none can tell when naturale will strike
To undress thy order of beauty renaissance
As it unveils the surprises of the cons and suburbs
The brook thrums as it vaults over the piled rocks
Rolling on deep into the Zambezi valley
Twisting, flirting with the rigdes that compliment the escarpment beyond
And the indigenous lass strolled to the rivulet a rose
A dragon rose burgeoning before the morning glory of the sun
Her corn-rows tufted with the vermilion splendour
Of marigold petals she picked along the footpath
The sleeves of chives thriving along the watercourse
Weaved in the refined breeze sweeping across the wafting water surface
She surged on a jade
A jade turning, swinging in the butter sunrays
With every step, every turn
Seeking a new face, reflecting a new light.
Her supple skin freed from fetters of freckles and blotches
By the enchanted resins of the savanna balm
The hale and hearty of the chlorophyllous lily-pads
Reclining their backs against the waters
Consuming their limpid, shading enigma below
Genies, river monsters and cold blooded demons
That loll beneath the swish, patient, cuddling an ambush
She reached the songful stream
With her khakied antique clay pot clasped against her left hip
A treasure handled down her lineage
A pride of the tribal women
The gold then rested in her arms
She furled the pot beneath the mesh of lily-pads to quench its thirst
Offering the thyme of her bountiful body to the monsters
Her clamor short-lived while her breath sheared off
The waters gulped her, with the dye of her flesh teeming off
And the stream clad in red
The ceramic whimpered into shards
The seering forest kept vigil, languid
As it guttered down her tears along its wrinkles
Her palm couldn't bridle her fate
But let it sip off between her fingers
Halloween!
Dense dark is Halloween night.
when Moon is absolute absent.
On Full Moon, it shows bright.
‘Half Moon’ glows descent.
Stars sparkle, show blue light.
Moon, if turns ‘Crescent’
displays ghostly sight.
Haunted house.
Horrifying mouse.
Flying vampire, scary ghost,
wicked witch, cunning most,
kindling candle,
breaking handle
of rusted latch
just to catch
the fleeing rat
that safely sat
on fleshy pumpkin.
Ghost jumped in,
started to crave.
Bold and brave
baby went out,
robust and stout,
biting juicy candy.
Sipping blue brandy
parents danced, dreamed.
Barn owls swirled, screamed.
Kids, kith and kin danced with host.
Silent drums beat by invisible ghost.
Hello! Join Halloween party
Enjoy full: hale and hearty.
10/23/16
Halloween Contest by Eve Roper.
Third Place
She slipped clumsily in a
café
Looked all around her
from the corner of her
eye
Felt all eyes upon her
Bit her lip
and flushed crimson
disconcertedly.
He was sacked, literally
fired
Got down in the dumps
Was down and out
and was left feeling blue
so gloomily.
He gave her a blossomed
rose
Blood rushed to her
cheeks
She blushed a deep red
so joyously.
She watched her rival
from afar
Summed up her
envy in reflex
and she turned green
jealously.
It looked hale and hearty
Ooh the cherubic chubby
cheeks
Baby looked in the pink
as it babbled away
innocently.
She heard of a loved
one's demise.
That was a shock indeed
She went white as a
sheet
as she then wept so
woefully.
She saw a teeny-weeny
spider on her skirts
Talk of arachnids and
phobias, yikes!
She turned a pale yellow
in fright
as she screamed fearfully.
He found his sweetheart
in another man's arms
Doubted his own charms
and his face went purple
with rage
almost immediately.
He faced his lifelong
enemy
Hate brimmed up in him
as his bitterness found a
vent
He shot him a black glare
most scornfully
well well, it might seem
that the worst of all the
human hues
are the melancholic
depressing blues
But I think being green
for jealousy
and the black of hate
top the list in deserving
poohs.
Mind you these human
pigmentation of emotion
are a matter of reflex
for you can't choose
which of the human hues
you'd like to wear, on
party day
and which you'd rather
not use.
I cannot apologize that I am so consumed with rage
For I cannot control my urge to lash out in defense
When I see that those in power cannot turn the page
That they foolishly equivocate and straddle the fence.
Once was a time when our leaders did the right thing
It was our country that counted, not a political party
Across the land we proudly sang, “Let Freedom Ring!”
We were not perfect, but our union was hale and hearty.
Today, it seems we cannot come together to do right
And those who do their best to serve are castigated,
Seems Congress has nothing to do but bicker and fight
While important issues to back burners are relegated.
Seems some folks are bent on destroying democracy
Even willing to storm the capitol, to seize powers!
Personally, I am appalled by the national hypocrisy,
Of those who live like royalty in their ivory towers.
We are rapidly approaching the no-turn-around point
When our most cherished institutions are crumbling,
And though I try to be optimistic, not fan a flashpoint
I fear it is we, the citizens, who are seriously bumbling.
Refusing to take a stand for principles tried and true,
Following self-absorbed demagogues who bloviate
And who, touting solutions, haven’t the faintest clue
Folks, we must chart a new course for the ship of state.
Written May 26, 2022
Spirits that goad have an unspoken code?
yes they certainly have that... you are right.
They come hale and hearty to join in the party
for this is their own special night.
No cause for fright on a Halloween night?
I'm afraid that you've got it all wrong.
The things that are done may just feel like fun
but believe me you’re singing 'their' song.
This night above all there's a hole in the wall
and the demons can usually squeeze through.
In their dark evil way they are searching for prey
and are seeking out people like you.
Most people don't see where they wander free
for they enter by most folks back door.
In the morning you find that they've consumed your mind
then you're not like you was once before.
Though you’re happy and gay and you still have your say
you no longer are walking alone.
You'll soon find by your traits that you’re making new mates
and your old ones won't answer the phone!
By 'possession' you see they make themselves free
to spread evil and hatred once more.
The friends you once had will now think you've turned mad
as you’ll tread them all into the floor.
So on Halloween Night if you’re up for a fright
and tricking and treating’s your way,
at least take a charm to help keep you from harm
and save bringing new 'friends' home to stay!
Ivor G Davies