Long Kinsfolk Poems
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Morning! Sunrise! Fresh happiness arrives!
With dawn and songs of birds existence thrives!
Music and hymns from holy shrines do gong!
Each plant, tree, flower, and fruit adds its song!
Birds, Bees, and flies compete to soar the sky!
Abound In bliss and happiness, I sigh.
Noon! The sun of delight in splendor prime!
Life full bloom like lotus, with fragrance mime;
The universe gleeful, exuberant,
In health and wealth joyous, protuberant;
When rays and horoscopes humanely nigh,
An amalgamation of moods! I sigh.
Silvery golden brightly moonlit night,
And wandering stars, in romance, take flight;
I lie glancing my kinsfolk in each star,
Who lives on some planet so very far;
My thoughts roam around with them very high,
My eyes shed tears in rain torrents! I sigh.
The spring or summer or fall or winter,
Sigh of mine never a season hinder;
Stress, anxiety, sadness, and despair,
Sigh has physic-psychic-somatic flare;
Seasons and months and weeks and days fast fly,
When storms of change shake the roots, I sigh.
Anytime whilst the innocent suffer,
The insolent might empathy utter;
Life of the poor become way of the cross,
The world stands by the flaws of rotten laws;
When the weird and scared in misery cry,
Agony erupts from my heart. I sigh.
13 July 2021
What Makes You Sigh... Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
IMPRISONED (collaboration)
by~ Jun-jun Villanueva
Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one cares? No one adores? it's too late
Recurrent nightmares peeve me in sublime
Making incubuses remorse in rhyme
Bequeathing qualm, fright and fear - death like crime
Kith and kin in laughs while I'm in grave time...
by~ Poet Destroyer
Twittering chime parade of glee
Unspectacular weed flowing trough me.
Boxed in a box like a tick or flea.
No one understands- what they can't see!
Outside myself holding my breath-
Or should I say what is left?
Trapping torment with false courtesy.
Preexisted past, without certainty.
Locked in a sanctuary grave of ivory ribs,
My life in a vault- trashed crib.
Feet lashing against my skin.
Twirling the rootless valves of sin.
No one cares! No one adores!
My prison trash coffin brought ashore.
A collaboration with * Jun-jun Villanueva
My collaboration contest
Widsith the Far-Traveler, Part II
ancient Anglo-Saxon poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hrothulf and Hrothgar, uncle and nephew,
for a long time kept a careful peace together
after they had driven away the Vikings' kinsmen,
vanquished Ingeld's spear-hordes,
and hewed down at Heorot the host of the Heathobards.
Thus I have traveled among many foreign lands,
crossing the earth's breadth,
experiencing both goodness and wickedness,
cut off from my kinsfolk, far from my family.
Thus I can speak and sing these tidings in the mead-halls,
of how how I was received by the most excellent kings.
Many were magnanimous to me!
I was among the Huns and the glorious Ostrogoths,
among the Swedes, the Geats, and the South-Danes,
among the Vandals, the Wærnas, and the Vikings,
among the Gefthas, the Wends, and the Gefflas,
among the Angles, the Swabians, and the Ænenas,
among the Saxons, the Secgan, and the Swordsmen,
among the Hronas, the Danes, and the Heathoreams,
among the Thuringians and the Throndheims,
also among the Burgundians, where I received an arm-ring;
Guthhere gave me a gleaming gem in return for my song.
He was no gem-hoarding king, slow to give!
I was among the Franks, the Frisians, and the Frumtings,
among the Rugas, the Glomms, and the Romans.
I was likewise in Italy with Ælfwine,
who had, as I'd heard, commendable hands,
fast to reward fame-winning deeds,
a generous sharer of rings and torques,
the noble son of Eadwine.
I was among the Saracens and also the Serings,
among the Greeks, the Finns, and also with Caesar,
the ruler of wine-rich cities and formidable fortresses,
of riches and rings and Roman domains.
He also controlled the kingdom of Wales.
I was among the Scots, the Picts and the Scrid-Finns,
among the Leons and Bretons and Lombards,
among the heathens and heroes and Huns,
among the Israelites and Assyrians,
among the Hebrews and Jews and Egyptians,
among the Medes and Persians and Myrgings,
and with the Mofdings against the Myrgings,
among the Amothings and the East-Thuringians,
among the Eolas, the Ista and the Idumings.
Keywords/Tags: Widsith, Anglo-Saxon, translation, Old English, minstrel, travel, travels, traveler, poet, poetry, songs, music, earth, world, places, peace, war
She entered the corridor of brightened light,
to a choir of voices so sweet
her feeling was one of it felt so right,
but who was she here to meet?
Further her footsteps ventured,
into a world unfamiliar and vague
till a voice spoke, twas the words of her master,
her life he was seeking to save.
"Child of the bad made decisions,
you oft seem to fall to the left,
open your eyes to this glorious vision,
you have no need to look so bereft".
She struggled to view the orator,
though she grasped every word that he spoke
"Tis you my Lord, my creator,
and with you, my spiritual long lost kinsfolk"
Her Lord sought to give her remission,
her sins wiped clean from the slate,
but this had to be in part her decision,
to the left or the right for her fate.
With a shock her heart began beating,
for two minutes her life had been gone,
she instantly recalled her meeting,
for once her decision had been the right one?
"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas time.”
– Laura Ingalls Wilder (1867-1957), American writer (of the Little House series of books), teacher, journalist, wife, mother, and native of Pepin, Wisconsin, USA
The holidays arrive with fall’s last call,
As frost’s glazed fingers tuck in frozen earth.
Thanksgiving gathers kinsfolk one and all,
With memories and fun beyond mere worth.
The calendar soon finds December late,
With Christmas joy and greetings all at hand.
Details to tend to prior to that date,
But season’s meaning – do we understand?
A New Year may refresh our souls and roles,
With resolutions we all hope to keep.
By weighing more than just our wants and goals,
Improved relationships we’ll sow and reap.
By smartly skipping season’s snares of strife,
Our holidays give happiness for life.
Stilled again across the canals broadening
Girth;
Mesh cages of rock-filled Gabions
Reinforcing patches of exposed and arid earth,
Reflecting the glints that gleefully
Twist and dance in the hot glare of the sun...
Provoking images and stirring indefinable feelings
That begin to irrevocably up and run;
Pictures and voices crowding into my mind:
Immersing me in the flooding moments
To which i am briefly resigned.
Now momentarily staid by the shimmering
Instance
In which i find myself inextricably caught,
Perplexed by something rather intangible,
Seeming almost to tease and laugh
Whilst confounding upon my evasive and
Fleeting thoughts;
As glancing across at the opposite bank
Where drawn up a line of densely packed trees..
I swore...I heard the reel of a high squealing
Fiddle -
Playing ever so briefly alongside a tricky little
Breeze.
For stood there I, wondering,
On a grey painted swing-bridge:
Of brightly painted Steamers, dirty Trampers
And of double masted white canvassed Brigs.
Oh! The everlasting glory of a New World order
Redefined:
Entrusted to those instructed in her Majesties
Construction of sprawling Victorian sublimes!
The men who heroically dug, picked, blasted and
Strove:
To securely fasten an Iron cast girdle around
An ever diminishing blue globe.
Dreaming of long ago, dutiful, Golden-Age days
Rigorously pursued down, what are now,
Weed strewn, abandoned byways.
Faustian clothing and a Velveteens cap;
The thick buckled leather gaiters held about
By the strap.
Many the word spoken in a soft southern brogue:
All hail the glorious navigators -
The navvies of old!
Staunch and desperate men forced to resign
Their native Gaelic shores
And burden unto themselves with
Mattocks, shovels and garishly painted-up whores.
Under the high flaming beacons
And over the obscure little brow -
They carved out the new waterways
To float the laden down prow.
Yes! Men of the Emerald Isles
I salute you and your kinsfolk
From lands cast westwards afar:
The magnificent "Paddies" from the verdant island -
Of Erin-Go-Bragh!
Hierarchical paradigm of the Amish community
After reading the novel titled
Broken English by Paul L Gaus...
accentuating, exhibiting, incorporating...
the Amish, whose long history of farming
with horses and mules, dates back
to when horse-drawn plows
first used to break up the earth.
While some newer Amish farms
use tractor-drawn equipment,
many Amish farmers still prefer
to use horse-drawn implements.
Said sturdy and simple contrivance
sports prominent envious society
regarding yours truly,
who feels tethered to capitalist construct
gagging me with unremitting yoke.
Hence, I experienced being woke
at mine incompatibility
inured my entire life
to the abstract codas, credo, dogma,
ethos, karma, mores, precepts...
constituting western civilization.
How quaint to bare witness, where townsfolk
congregate to resolve community conflicts
suspicious should an hyperconscious,
and pugnacious "English" poke
their figurative noses
where they don't belong kinsfolk
of sect who sell dried tobacco
foodstuffs, crafts evoke
hankering (regarding yours truly,
a run of the mill doubting Thomas)
to become linkedin
with a voluntary community
less restrive than
the so called "plain" people,
unencumbered with materialistic trappings
whereby assignments delineated
governed jump-started
by age and gender at birth
men assigned physical tasks,
while women linkedin to domestic role,
members of the sect
know their role from cradle to grave.
Aside from delineating
responsibilities predicated
on whether an individual
child, teen, or adult,
their culture allows,
enables and provides
self reliant lifelong skill sets
whipping a proud member into
topnotch shape of body, mind and spirit.
transmitted trashy talks
(partially presented pablum pertaining
particularly - president ***** (PAC -
phallic action cum mitt tee)
portfolio playboy philandering)
baneful boorish boastful bullheaded
Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks.
conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly
cavorts, capitulating, claiming,
championing crying chauvinistic
concupiscence, coital cupidity caul
king crooked cowboy cakewalks.
Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly,
demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly,
devilishly, divinely dumbfounded,
duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks.
eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating,
excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk.
"fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant
fool, frightful.
gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating
gerrymandering.
harboring hectoring heinously hellishly
hideously horrendously horrible hulk.
ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest
immoral impetuous, impishly impudent,
incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous,
iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible
irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix intercourse izards.
jowly jackass jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking
jumping jerk, jilting jinn.
knowingly keeping kryptonite, kinky Kardashian
kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty,
kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps,
kowtowing ku klux klan kinsfolk.
legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated,
lambasted, languished lost lively lust,
limped, legal levity limited.
menfolk made macho mission. many moons
monthly mandate marked maybe mars,
mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified
modus mystifying maze moonwalk.
I’m a very early riser - the first settler’s
alarm clock you might say-
If you haven’t heard my native name
Wiradjuri guuguubarr- That’s OK
you would know me as a Kookaburra.
You’ll often hear me laughing with my kinsfolk
from treetops to greet the morning
Then at day’s end we bid it a fond goodbye-
with a jovial, raucous chorus.
You could mistake it for human laughter
but it isn’t imitation- we’ve been laughing this way
since the beginning of creation.
I have a diet that will often make people shudder.
I can eat a 3 foot snake and then go looking for another.
I stun it first by dropping it — then whack it on a tree
And then, believe me — I swallow it — carefully.
I blend in well with the bushland
bark brown and dappled shades
You can’t see me in the gumtrees—that is
until my laughter gives me away.
ALPHA BETA
As I understand it
Back in the distant past
Communication was at first, verbal
Distinct, if limited
Every tribe began with its own
Finding it a challenge across boundaries
Getting an understanding, the first step
However difficult it may have been
In delving deep into facial expressions
Just as tribes began to share stories
Kinsfolk with greater vision
Laid down a simple written code
More in glyphs than modern letters
Now established across most of the world
Of course, there are still subtle differences
Perhaps enough to make it interesting
Questioning whether a common principle applied
Revealing a basic alphabet at its core
Some solid basis to record words in writing
Twenty six or so the most popular
Understanding was now assumed
Vested in those who learned to read
Whatever their motivation
X-ray vision was not required
Youth instructed by their elders
Zest for poetry soon followed