Long Inspecting Poems
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High summer at the Regiment,
Admin Inspection coming around
So they placed a little saluting base
At the edge of the Parade Ground.
A coco matting covered floor
On a stout square wooden base
Which the fatigue party
Manoeuvred carefully into place.
Now I may have worn a uniform
And been a soldier by name
But i preferred to play
Very unmilitary games.
So, every night I visited
That special little place
And ceremoniously and seriously
Passed water on the saluting base.
How I loved the thought
That the building smell
Would make of that area
A pungently urine smelling hell.
Alas, all good things
Must come to their end
Because sadly I was discovered
By an equally discontented friend.
And before I knew it
Every single night
Folk were treated
To the unedifying sight
Of an ever growing band
In the process of urination
On that little coco matted
Official saluting base station.
Discretion being the thing
And the damage being done
We ceased operation and left
Further action to that of the sun.
Having sadly been posted for
Unspecified but suspected crime
I was not present there
Come Admin Inspection time
So I never did find out
If it all went well
And the Inspecting Officer suffered
My planned olfactory dose of Hell
So many many years later
In odd moments of leisure
I like to think it did, and that
Gives me such intense pleasure.
I'm sitting here in my room, holding a photograph
of the two of us when we were young in a garden;
your arm around my shoulder, mine around your waist,
and our little boy standing beside me inspecting a BB gun
that is almost as tall as he
Happy in Love...
It's been a year today and the tears still flow
since you left this world, not by choice
we were so
Happy in Love...
you were my Lion, you gave me courage;
you were my Bear, you gave me strength
I lost you in pieces every day that you were ill.
I lie in bed at night trying to catch a moment with you,
Happy in Love...
but a shadow of your scent on your pillow
I miss you more and more every day
half of me is missing with you gone, forever.
9/15/2019
- Poetry Contest: Writing Challenge 2, September 2019 - The Photograph
Sponsored by: Wiishkobi Ode
He is sworn in holding a branch
Cut from the tree of life and a vine
That's sacred he swears to protect
His people the tree and the vine
He swears by the sacred abode
Shortly afterwards he gets the vision
Go to Nineveh Jonah and warn them
He departs not to nineveh but to Taasis
Aboard the ship they have no option
But to throw him overboard into the sea
In the belly of that big fish choking on seaweed
Three days seem like three thousand years plus
This is too much he's now praying earnestly
My Lord i will accept your will i will go and warn
The fish spews him in the great city of wonders and signs
This time round they spit on him pour dirty water on him
Hurl insults at him beat him up yet he says repent.. repent
His message over he then moves to the edge of the city
In the deep of the night Khat the sacred tree grows over him
And the African orchids encircle the roots - the base of the tree
Roy rubs his eyes inspecting the fruits from the tree -tree of life
Three days from today this city will be destroyed....
Thinks Roy he will tend to this tree together with his descendants
In the midday sun a ground worm ate the root stalk of the tee
It then ate the root of the vine... both tree and vine dried up
And a SOUND says... Roy i have forgiven this city i will let it live
Roy is astounded but the SOUND rebukes him..
Roy you are willing to protect a vine and a tree
Yet you care not for this great city go home..
Roy departed and went back to his home
The sign of the prophet Jonah will portend the coming of age...
Roy remembers during the ceremony he had chewed the leaves
And the visions were no more than Khat visions he's still perplexed
Roy goes back home and starts reading the sacred scripture
CODE 254
Lewis Nyaga
Thoome wairegi
Kings counsel
Hugging my oak; vibrations of Spring,
tingling of potential and potent buds.
Robins and woodpeckers inspecting;
a hawk dives, evens out, sees life
on the ground; seeds twinging with
excitement, ready to break ground.
We are in the waiting room. Buzz of
monotone before the sun goes full throttle,
and dandelions and daffodils delight us.
Rose petal brushing on rouge and lipstick.
Ooh…ooh…ready to breathe in the snow
and cherry blossoms of tangible trees!
So, so ready to walk in the zeal of zephyr,
to whirl around the buzz of bees and chirps,
those lovely birds rejoicing with one another.
Put on your Easter bonnet! Why wait! Praise!
With accompaniment of rain, the tweets pour into my ear.
Saturation of sound, mottled bark and sodden moss.
Must be the downfall of civilization, heavens tears.
In God’s house, psalm’s blessing; outside, purging the dross.
Hues of watercolor diffuse, darkness rippling on wet canvas.
There is beauty in mankind, to read between lines of tension.
Push and pull of dripping thoughts, the undertow madness.
A leviathan of sin’s proportions, the levity and dimension.
You can’t escape the weather, its steady beat above the brow.
The sweat beads seeping, harrowing adventures of sound.
Inspecting inside and outside of self - what seeds to sow.
Don’t be too hard on yourself, though you nearly drowned.
Floating alone in a boat, the sea takes me on a journey.
It is dark and lonely, the slip and slide, the ebb and flow.
Comes walking on the water; appears, heaven’s attorney.
Suddenly I’m on dry land, head bowed, to my knees, I go.
Christ reigns. The closer we are to his gates, we long to serve
Him only, yet we still stomp in muddy puddles with bare feet.
We can hide our feet in socks, in rain boots, hide their curves.
The Lord washes feet, cleanses with His Word ‘til we’re complete.
Summer resplendent sun glowing
in the photosynthesis of viridescent grass.
Waving blades like long fingers flowing,
the sudden sighing gusts come and pass.
The field lives palpable in the anamnesis.
I step through the Queen Anne’s lace,
I lay down on dense turf, where distress decreases,
Sun of repose wrings out pain, leaving no trace.
The field uncut, surrounded by trees,
shooshing wind mixes only with the hum of bees.
Lazy, balmy, timeless afternoon, grasshoppers leap.
Musty grass inhaled. I doze and fall asleep.
The field dandelions release seeds like cotton
floating on nuzzling breeze, landing, then begotten.
Burrowing moles hunt earthworms under soil.
Nests and mounds, why do ants tirelessly toil?
Toad hops by, pausing, inspecting for insects.
Sioux Nation meadowlarks sing of friendship
from the nearby woodland intersects.
Love by dissolving into field, my ritual worship.
At cool dusk, I awaken to cricket chitter.
Night’s canopy of cosmos is without dimension,
measureless. I am free and joyous in star glitter.
I merge with field habitat, awakening all sensations.
Published: Pick Me Up Poetry 10/22
Accepted for Publication, 11/2023: PoetrySoup Anthology Vol. III
Reflections on the Important Things
He would look in your eyes. And you know it
He would call your name. And you collapse within
He ruled and reigned. We obeyed and submitted
Your excellency sir. His friends would call him
My lord and savior. servants would proclaim
He had authority to take a way life
To own your wife. And make your sons slaves
At his word the arch bishop was killed
He was invisible and too visible
Any whisper in your bed room
Would find the General in the state house
We chose him because he chose himself
Blood was common to our eyes
Like the source of Nile is
We were rebels in our own liberty
We were condemned for our rights
Killed for our choices
And tortured at the wish of one man
I still see the knives with blood
The ropes on which our courageous fathers were hanged
I still see the field marshal with his son
Inspecting the guard of honor
I still hear sounds of our late mothers
Praising the monster who burnt them later
Leaving us orphans and wanderers
In our own nation
Though we chose to forgive. Mr president
Though we are careful as we vote
Though we promised never to surrender again
Today Mr president,
Still rules in the souls of our leaders
He still roams in our continent
Looking for someone to devour
As i type this i know it will reach
Those that possess the spirit
of Mr. president
I now fear that word. Mr president
I fear the state of nation address
I fear to put OPM in full
I fear the word General
I fear the word State
I hate the word First..
My heart pumps
When i see the green uniform
I fear all this because of Mr president
I love our nation leader
I love our constitution
I love His excellency the president
But i hate
Mr President
Some time had passed since I traveled this street
And arrived at the house that had been so sweet
Where children had danced and roses had grown
And my family and I had made it our home.
But I found the house was falling apart.
The roses were dead, the windows were dark.
The front yard was filled with strangling weeds,
Overgrown bushes and almost dead trees.
The last family there had a dear child die,
And so to the house bid a hasty goodbye.
I looked at the ruined home I adored
And resolved to have its life restored.
The front door was locked, but I knew an old trick,
The back door would open with a right-handed flick.
I quietly pushed it ajar just a crack,
Then slowly pressed it all the way back.
I entered the house, stepping with care,
But needn't have feared for no one was there.
The rooms were all empty, no possessions were seen,
Yet everywhere was white, and everything was clean,
The ceilings, the walls, cabinets and floors,
Carpets, sheer curtains, woodwork and doors.
I roamed through the rooms inspecting the site,
And found all the house as blindingly bright.
The room I had used was the one entered last
Anticipating finding memories of the past.
Hastily flinging the door open wide,
I froze on the spot seeing what was inside.
A young girl sat perched on the long window seat
Gazing outside at the faraway street.
Dressed in a white gown, like the sheer curtains blowing,
She turned slowly toward me, her long brown hair flowing.
On seeing her face, I started to reel,
My legs became weak, I started to keel.
I still couldn't move, though I wanted to flee,
For staring ahead, I was looking at me.
The apparition glided through the white, white room,
Enfolded me in her arms and said, "Welcome home."
Contest: The Haunted House
Sponsor: Dear Heart
8/28/18
But yes, I tell my muse, we will be together until the end
She is relieved, having spent so much time fixing me
Correcting me, inspecting me, subjecting me to her will.
I am seventy-three as of yesterday, so I know she was worried.
Wondering if I was done; I am not seasoned, I am old.
I refuse to admit this, dying my hair burgundy, wearing go-go boots.
Poetry is my fourth hobby, but it is a part of my soul now.
My self-inflicted goal is ten poems a day.
I have been able to meet this goal for five years now.
But yes, I say to my muse. No worries.
You will be with me until my hands and head no longer move
And my brain figures out where we go after this earth life.
Lonely broken hearts, in stride
Lady Montague ---
She drank to life awaiting death
in runs Majesty's breath
never speaking of where she's been
Hamlet fed up leaves the scene,
as Captain Black bends his knee
for the Queen who embraces Mr.
Beam in Marches ferociously
little Putin -- bombing everyone.
Lenin looks up as a flock o' geese
inspecting the sun and screams,
"Russia's end so soon!"
Spider Man sinks his silk
upon the violent stupid tongue
arising from the ground says
invisible man,
"who tried butting me while I went
down upon wonder woman!"
Humanity's self-demise!
:: 04.12.2022 ::