Long Hook or by crook Poems
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On the south-western side of the old mission school,
near the corner of First Street, where blackberries grew
a field claimed by youngsters was crosshatched with tracks.
It was riddled by gophers and, nettled with fox-tails
and the children's bare feet had constructed thin trails,
cupping deep paths that were littered with smiles,
deep in the amber of tall weeds and dry grass.
It wasn't too far from the patched wire fence
that hemmed the backyard of my Grandmother's house.
Westerly whirlwinds would rattle the ragweed,
while seeds of the bull-thorns, that prickled our toes,
would spread with the tumbleweeds, now tossed into rows
like last winter's snowmen, worn to the bone
There were traces of honeysuckle mixed with wild rose
from Grandma's old arbor, that loomed in the distance
A rusty old weather vane like a merry-go round
would spin like a top that might never stop
The ivy was overgrown, and a sleepy old hound
would snooze by the clothesline, in shade he had found
But, deep in the field, was a land of our own
A place we called 'Neverland', a loft in this poem
In the yoke of one tree, with the help of our dad
was a fort built of scrap wood, from piles by the shed.
And by hook or by crook, I would take all commands
While my brother's brewed brainstorms, and his black plastic hook,
assigned him the Captain, while I was the crew
of a ramshackle galleon, brought to life from our books
While I dangled in air, from a tired old swing
"Tinker", my name...in this masculine game..
I would push off, while he pulled me, right up to the sky
and into the branches, with leaves in my eyes......
I would fly to the depth's of a steel gray-blue sky
I would grovel, and shovel, to have his approval........
for he was much older, much wiser than me
I would play like a tomboy,.....shove doll-drums away
Such sweet summer days,......while bright splintered rays
of hot summer sun, would spotlight our play.
We would stay until twilight, to watch the sun die
Defying all gravity.......I could see to eternity
Tootsie Pops clung to the tip of our tongues
while the sun of the twilight, dipped over the dunes
and the call of our mother, slipped over the moon
____________________________________________________________
The queen of birds Sari dear lived in the mango tree
I asked her to come down and take a saree from me
She asked wide-eyed the price of it
I said,”Sari, you’re a cute tweet”
She made faces, chirruped short, and flew to the next tree.
A saree is a South Asian female garment that consists of a drape varying from five to nine yards in length and two to four feet in breadth that is typically wrapped around the waist, with one end draped over the shoulder, baring the midriff.
Sari came down and sat on the bay window
‘Dad’, she said,’ you must chain the devil Frido’
“He is a gawky brute
Just now he ate up a coot
He needs your boot and a slap on his credo”.
Sari tweeted my wife” O mom, don’t pinch my behind”
My wife re-tweeted,” Sari, You are not of this kind”.
“Sorry to say you have no proper bum
So, Sari, how can I be a pinch bum?”
Sari re-re-tweeted, “Mom, a lie, my bum is twined.”
Sari came one day with his creaky husband Suk
“Dad, teach Suk a lesson, he must know how to cook"
"Sari, my darling, you’re a sweet fraud
Don’t crook Suk’s head with a teaching rod
Better teach him how to fly by hook or by crook"
Sari, my daughter, in mid September, gave birth to a girl
She was a ball of furry delight, eyes were pacific pearl
I said, "Sari ,you are now a mother
So you must not be antsy like other
Sari hugged her child,said”dad, no worry, she will be a whirl"
Yes, you came last night as I had wished
Normally reader, if you are after it that you desire
Your soul by hook or by crook is going to be the complier
When dear reader, you are lost into nothingness adrift and keep up as such
Be sure what you wished, a part of your mind would, insist on piecing it together.
So, exactly so it happened with me
It was a charming moonlight flooding outside
To my great delight a flower of that soft radiance I saw seated
In my chair in front of my computer table with the room in rhythmic dance
And then the flower shaping into a slim human figure looking a woman in trance
I felt a mild tremor within my anatomy
There were micro waves inside my hemoglobin
It was not the perfumed woman I had been daydreaming
Then came people walking along with the now familiar figure moving leisurely
Very affectionate peaceful slender composed friendly arisen from the moonlight
Initially I felt confused with the easy gait
A soft and serene smile with a little bit of frivolity
The head half-covered with a veil of soft and silky drape, that is, Shari
Sort of gesturing with her beautiful eyes asking me to come close to her side
Then confusion gave way to the joy of a child looking at his mother wide-eyed
I felt exceedingly happy and kept looking at my mom
I felt the hugs the scolding the tears the smiles and the flavours
I wanted to rush towards her and to hug her tight as I did when a child
But the film faded fast as the world was coming back with its dawning sounds mild
I thanked the ruler replacing the desired woman with my mom in the colored void
Amazed I could not settle for a while in the day thanks to the great Sigmund Freud
He had lost his father,
Lived in a home at the hill-top.
Always attentive in the school,
Never be late was his attitude.
Was very much disciplined and obedient,
Was always faithful and honest to his friends.
Even on Saturdays,
He didn’t ever miss his school.
Either by hook or by crook,
He always reached school on time.
Although he didn’t have any source of income,
He always thought
His mother would be waiting for him,
Eagerly on Saturday evenings.
After the school dismissal,
His friends often by mistake
Used to utter a sentence against his wishes,
“Does he really know the truth?”.
After hearing it and knowing the truth also,
He always used to ignore it all.
In order not to recall what he had lost,
And always acting to be a forgotten boy.
His friends did console him at times,
Trying to make him forget all his life’s tragedies.
After his dismissal everyday from the school,
He used to go back home with great enthusiasm.
With a great excitement of meeting up his mother,
Who was the only one left as his family member.
With whom he would be discussing all his school activities.
Everyday before reaching home,
He pictured the images of his well-settled home.
And his mother waiting for him eagerly,
As soon as he reaches back home,
He is shocked by a passerby everyday.
Reminding him of the fact he always wanted to ignore,
And by recalling the fact
His eyes shed tears
And he wants to cry a lot.
But however he controls himself,
And accepts the reality
That…
His mother had died one year ago.
Amaze your mind and stimulate your horizon.
Tonight we forget the real.
We’ll slither through the unknown.
We’ll bite death in the ass.
Then trick our way through the path to hell.
No turning back, we are stuck now.
At night the reason will seize to fall,
And we turn primal, we begin the brawls.
Taking shelter beneath the stones.
A touch that illuminates my soul like chrome.
Vortex inside each mind, crazy colored vortex.
A velvet heart yet suspicious tongue.
Dwindling into the ocean, by our feet we’re hung.
When I combine your colors with my planet
It mimics Picasso and shimmers like granite.
Just like the abnormal extraterrestrial.
I can see the fear and I can smell it.
It’s inside my septum, settling, wallowing.
I feel your eyes graze across.
Enveloping my head.
When will I be cleared of love,
I always thought I was done looking.
Waiting to be arrested, by hook or by crook.
Enter the world of everyday issues,
As still as a valley’s night.
So cripple the weak when they fall short of respect.
For two beings as one promotes chaos.
It begins destruction releasing a seance.
But the man buckles to his knees at their sight.
Not defending their place, failure at the fight.
Disturbia pummels your mentality straight down.
Improvising a brand new land trying not to drown.
Befriending a monster totally incoherent.
Busting through concrete melting the sealant
Forget her pain it causes unhappiness
Flailing into denial.
Body covered in sunsets golden silk
Many miles run up and down sand Dune
Going like demon my rest can’t come too soon
Dappled skin soaked in sweats sweat milk
Cool crisp water showers me with clensing
Warm residue of the brilliant summer day
Dries my weary aches and pains away
Natures medicine the sun is dispensing
Adrenaline dump my shoulders now slouch
Whisk me away to my world of dreams
What I’m feeling now isn’t all it seems
Ready for a nap please find me a couch
I lay my head gently in the soft sand
And swiftly drift off to my Neverland
Dreams of Tinkerbell are not what I planned
Fairy’s sprinkling magic dust all so grand
Peter and Wendy spirit me away
These are the last boys and now we can play
Happily frolicking until Captain Hook
Shouts how he’ll get me by hook or by crook
My sweet little dream is now a nightmare
Cornered by Hook completely unaware
Peter Pan proves the hero of the day
I flee as Peters sword keeps Hook at bay
Running running on the spot or so I believe
I’m in the air though my eyes must deceive
Tinkerbell dances showing me the light
Peter and Hook stage a hell of a fight
Tinkerbells light is beginning to fade
I open my eyes to the cool of the shade
Not quite aware of what just transpired
The power of dreams greatly admired
Even revered by the mystical one
Lovingly told now a fable to his son
The world's number one
killer
I wonder why it hasn't
yet made its way
Into a horror movie
thriller
Why, though it could beat
Even the serial killer!
Oh it gets even past
locked doors
Through the tiniest of
holes and pores
And however tiny
It bodes fatality
For to many its bites
Have been lethal, fatal
And it sings freely in
your ears
But like a teeny weeny
vampire
Don't you undermine the
miniscule, the minute
For tis a real-life
miniature vampire
Tis a blood sucking
brute!
And they come in hordes
Without guns or swords
This major yet tiny killer
of humans
Though you might kill
with a flick of your
hands
Yet you could never
wipe out the whole band
From the face of the
earth
What with its prolific
birth!
As this is one flying
army here to stay
And by hook or by crook
In each and every nook
It shall share our land!
How terrible that our
blood is on its main menu
My and your blood its
main staple diet
So I warn you fellow
humans
Save yourselves from
the anopheles's bite.
Call it mosquito or agent
of malaria
Plasmodiums are far
worse than any bacteria
And they aren't just
doing their job
They're doing their
bloody feeding
We ain't in paradise yet:
thus both the harmful
and harmless are
breeding!
IF ever I had a country : XXXIII - XXXIV
XXXIII
IF ever I had a country
And if ever by hook or by crook I were the Secretary of HEW and Culture
I'd make it compulsory for any being who wishes to run for office
To first undergo psychologcal tests to prove (s)he's sufficiently mature
Pass televised Public Examinations on Constitutional Law Logic Economics and Political Philosophy for the novice
In short, revive some sort of the old Confucian Mandarinate system of competitive torture
That is, if ever by hook or by crook I were the Secretary of HEW and Culture
And even if I never ever had no country to torture
XXXIV
IF ever I had a country
And if ever by hook or by crook I were the Imperial State Counsellor
I'd advise the King PM or President to put political aspirants under psychiatric surveillance
For it's most surprising that those who have more or less no vestige of culture would wish to be other peoples' manager
Furthermore, I'd insist that once elected they take the Oath of Anonymity and Silence
And watch how long they would then want to hold on to their power
That is, if ever by hook or by crook I were the Imperial State Counsellor
And even if I never ever had no country to empower
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 15, 2018
EMI LO KAN (It's My Turn)
What is "Emi lo kan"?
It is a selfish assertion,
It connotes one's right,
the selfishness that makes a man
put himself first before his nation.
To put one's ambition and personal interest
ahead of that of the common good...
It's adherence to individuality
rather than positive collectivity.
Do we take TURNS where power is SHARED?
Emi lo kan (It's my turn).
I am next in line!
Whether credible or not credible,
Whether accepted or not accepted
Whether by hook or by crook
Whether by sweat or by blood
Whether by money or by influence
Whether by threat or by manipulations.
Whether by tricks or gimmicks.
Do we accept SELECTION instead of ELECTION?
Emi lo kan (It's my turn)
Herald the voice of a dictator,
The tone of a tyrant.
The song of an enforcer.
The power of a Political wizard.
The declaration of a looter
The audacity of a principality.
But hell has no fury like a woman(hueman) scorned
And the stance of a frustrated masses.
Why should we accept DAMNATION instead of SALVATION?
Mr Emi Lo Kan, its not your damn turn!!
It's our turn (the people) to possess a new Naija????
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©? 1st March, 2023.
Joyful rainy night, rhythmic outside of the solo mind,
Drunkard glass on the table of grey-eyed stars and
I’m looking for the rising poetry to row moonlight
The moon on the dark candle fire, a moth flying to the
Death of splendid sadness, colorful the timely life
Invites the expiration date of the cycling breath line
Line by line, slowly I realize that the empty stomach
Human lives in one problem but in full of this machine
Thousands of problems alert dogmas in earthly rhyme
Rhymes produce some truths within mighty-power
Is the power truth or truth the power?- who knows
But, all-mighty always becomes truth on this earth
So, what the truth is- no need to know its inside fact
Be mighty by hook or by crook to sell “I’m Truth” tact
31.08.2020 Chattogram
***Note***
What’s the truth of life, belief, death- I do not know
But since the birth of my understanding I’ve got that mighty is the truth!
Almighty is the truth because of all undefeatable power! OR
Truth is all-mighty though sometimes beatable on the earth!