Long Lethargy Poems
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This day born an industrious Eve
Good on paper and better practical wise
Which Adam gets to have a view
How truly the combination would yield
Of himself in his Maker's image
Feel safe and relax-- caution free
Without mirror cum a true reflection
Today's atmospheric template perceive
The bliss, grace, and joy of age to apprise
Giving everyone an open hint to the right clue
How nature's agents naturally wield
Combining colors like rainbow in range
To celebrating her age in such a wonderful glee
Season is experiencing a nice actualization!
To celebrate you isn't a choice
A must if not would develop an ire
Be there soon with you and the cake
But as I prepare, don't wait the party
What a traffic quite aleatory can do?
Just woke up to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Meanwhile, such a moment can't be missed
Gain more wishes with the party noise
Let your dance steps electrify souls like wire
Many would have it a nice memory for that sake
Some will map it out footing such really arty
And laugh themselves all alone without a boo
Yet of you each will have h/her own say
And eventually take it a lovely twist
Over the year gone by, life has a weir
High or low, one can't jump in reverse
May be of laughter in memory, we can
Or of joy in abundance cum such dream
Like what regret can only adjust for us
Or the skills failure enriched our energy
To keep fit the focus of moving forward
Hang them all up in praise as to coffin by bier
And baptize each but only the lessons, don't submerse
To cool its repetitive heat, you need its fan
Alone in its drowning sea, learn how you once swum its stream
That is surely an empowering plus
To cope with a recurrence life lethargy
Aiming at a good time to drag one backward
Please shift to a clockwise direction, be veer
Past is such an insincere infection
Permit not its influence to interfere
Lest, you go ga ga ga in suspension
Instead of going gay gay gay for success
And unsteady motion will rest
Till comes out every of your timing best
Be good dear lovely sister
Be happy now and forever
Be nice to your darling mister
Be his pill cum natural fever ??
Make the best out of today
Make even the very beast go really gay
Make sure sky is not just red
Make sense of the say from each head
Courtesy of Adebiyi Anu O'Dayo
Im half awake, and glaring at the sunrise
distant brilliance slowly eating at my dry eyes
squinted to best witness the aureate Apollo
refract off blades soaked through with dew
heaven's first blush, midsummer quiet, and coffee scent
cast clarity, light unveiling the burden
weighing down on every living being
clearest with the coming of the day
burning black holes into my brain's blank slate
sundering my soul 'till shatter state
fast approaches on the infinity of empty space
veiled out ahead of me
Restless with the lethargy of baring witness
I stir the pit, and catch flames leap up
from within carbon prints of gray matter
quelled embers lay suffocating beneath
ash dunes and smoldering phoenix feathers
matted and clumped by filmy deliquescence
spent of all but their will to rise again.
I grasp at the green broken glass
strewn about my feet like seeds
planted by last night's ignorance
and the sin of forced forgetting that
we all someday pay recompense
for our vice's and the gluttonous
way we all practice immoderation.
The world is quiet in lull
humanity lost to an illusion
breathing soft
and sleeping soundly
altogether
We exist
to want and rub against
the way the world turns on
a crooked axis, each moment less lucid
than those sunspots and dewdrops
coursing through dirt-clay veins and
branding the cracked dirt with morning
I cant shake loose the afterimage
imprinted on my blunted senses
experiencing everything I reach
is less than whole
understanding the universe
exists as fragments blackened in spite
of time's one plight forever pulling it apart
The sunset split the sky,
the fire danced and spit,
and the condensation clotted.
I seized eternity that morning
amidst the doldrums of sleeping masses
its truth intimate and calming.
I sense slumber cease and the suburbs rustle
the dreamers stumble about in waking
to shower away their sweat and dreamt delusion
start their cars, and drive away in sync
I listen closely to their heavy sighs
the shift of sagging shoulder plates,
bent under with Atlas tugging at the reins
kind's struggle never ceases to
echo off of terra firma, quaking
with each clanking of the chains
that bind our beating hearts to
alarm clocks, freeways, work weeks
and the torment of monotony
Form:
Sweet dreams are fantastic and enchanting,
The golden wings of brightness are quite chanting,
The natural beauty of songbirds is like fairy dust,
In this dream, I broke down with joy and bust.
Oh, dream! The ominous curved shape was not scary,
Chimera! The vampire seemed merry,
Then the classic scary stigma of horror vampire,
Fear of satanic blasphemy grew as a damper.
Oh! I closed my eyes in horror at that terrible sight!
His hypnotic eyes stopped the trembling, awe-inspiring flight!
The Vampiric myth unsolved puzzle may be resolved tonight,
My heart raced as the ego chiseled my family's artistic heights.
There is tranquility and calmness in my head,
Trying to remember how beatific this time is ahead,
I am grateful to God for my golden vision,
which appears to be a wonderful envision.
A mysterious traveler from our odd planet,
At home, into the magical realm of sleep gamut,
In a dream, I filled out a waiver and escaped Vietnam,
And I joined the National Guard, my favorite aplomb.
My favorite subject at school was English Literature,
Dad said math and science were vital, not litterateur,
I focused on calculus and left grammar to my proclivity,
I learned to design technical visuals, not creatively.
We were labeled "baby boomers," but we were war babies,
It ensures the happiness of possible rivals abides,
Living in America exposed me to a touch of pioneer history,
Technology and industry drive us forward through mystery.
The dream ceased without falling for the intelligentsia,
She freed me from lethargy by having me fight inertia,
Without her, I could have abused booze and heroin,
It's simpler to surrender to laziness than to be a heroine.
I rode the conveyor to the consulting to provide luxury,
I wrote finance and tech books to show I hump Riff Poetry,
Now I am in search of mystical sights and cosmic vibes,
When the writing is over, I shall resume painting the jibes.
The most exciting dreams are abruptly interrupted,
When the sun's rays approached, rouse erupted,
Appealing experiences, from a need for sleep,
More people assumed occult esoteric creep.
1ST place contest winner
Written: September 15, 2022
The Mystical Dream Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
A day comes with a
morning dew,
For the words, less
to cope all few,
The breezy wave and
tweeting eyes,
Of rising sun, view
the Himalaya highs,
The trancing
eclipses and
faltering trees,
Held me there,
caught me freeze,
And the prevailing
dusky downy haze,
To falling cascade
of ivory rays,
Where I hied to let
it chase,
This beautiful
bounty widespread
haze,
I look & look, with
a glance and gaze,
With winking eyes
with hot cap,
I observed their
silent nap,
And whence the sun
rise and set,
Sparrow and humming
beak to get,
Food to survive and
maintain life,
And live on sharp
edgy curvy stemy
knife,
Above the grove and
in dense forest,
Where harmonious
peace dwells in the
nest,
Where leaves
levitate and birds
hove,
And oscillate with
desire, solidarity
in love,
A bird in this
hustle bustle,
Jingle jangle and
trilling rustle,
Are not base
generations, it’s
true so,
They rise through
reincarnation, and
grow,
Up to our believe
and reckon,
They are alive and
born,
I ask my conscience
where to hike,
Stood here and there
or by riding bike,
To feel the scent of
this rainy December,
Over my worries and
lethargy to
remember,
His never-ending
silence to end
daylight,
Made one statue,
stunned one bright,
And I put my towel
to have a shower,
This congeal water
pierces me by power,
Oh ablution is
enough for adequacy,
Count on, fend off
with sufficiency,
And when I walk on
flossy meadow,
The emerald tint
fell a shadow,
Upon my eyes to
sensory nerves,
Where the earth,
laid with several
curves,
The invigoration of
spirit rises up
more,
On rambling off and
on, this grassy
floor,
Over this belt with
buoying ways,
No alternate of this
land, O nays,
Where I felt about
flying upon,
Falling, right left,
up and down,
Then I move here and
there, up-to sun
height,
To meet buoyantly
this sunny light,
The sun with
magnetic warm and
beguile,
This morning with
candelabra wile,
Cause a man to wake
and woke,
Sing a flute while
sitting under an
oak,
How this mean, a
life less of
leisure,
Won’t you thrill
this grudgingly by
measure,
A world, an
embarrassment of
riches,
And a life with
plenty of beach’s.
Shahid Hussain
Chouhdry
SILENTLY AWAY (LORRIE)
AS I LIE HERE IN THE DARKNESS IN MY YEARS THEY CALL DECEMBER,
I SEE HER FACE BEFORE ME, HEAR THE LAUGHTER I REMEMBER.
FEEL THE PAIN DEEP IN MY HEART THAT NEVER GOES AWAY.
TASTE THE TEARS UPON MY FACE, DREAD THE COMING OF EACH DAY.
SHE WAS LORRAINE WHEN I MET HER, SOON BEGAN TO CALL HER LORRIE,
AND WE BEGAN TO TURN EACH PAGE, CREATING OUR LOVE STORY.
ENERGY AND LAUGHTER FILLING EACH SUCCEEDING DAY,
NOT NOTICING THE DAYS OF YOUTH SLIP SILENTLY AWAY.
MIDDLE YEARS GONE QUICKLY, THE YEARS THEY CALL JULY.
HOMES AND JOBS AND CHILDREN, EMPTY NESTERS BY AND BY.
TIME AND TREASURE THEN TO SPEND, GOOD HEALTH, DREAMS COMING TRUE,
FORGETTING LIFE IS FRAGILE, DAYS MAY BE MANY OR BE FEW.
THEN LATER YEARS LIKE GLOW OF YOUTH SLIP SILENTLY AWAY.
MORNING RUNS BECOME JUST WALKS, HAIR SLOWLY TURNS TO GREY.
ENERGY TO LETHARGY, GOOD LOOKS TO SLOW DECAY.
THE WATERFALL AROUND THE BEND, CLOSER EVERY DAY.
EACH DAY A TIME TO CHERISH, TO ENJOY THE NOW NOT NEVER,
BELIEVING THAT OUR EBBING TIME COULD SOMEHOW LAST FOREVER.
EACH PASSING YEAR ANOTHER YEAR TO ADD TO THOSE REMEMBERED,
BUT FOR HER THEY STOPPED FOREVER IN HER YEARS THEY CALL NOVEMBER .
FOR THEN CAME THAT DREADFUL MORNING, I FOUND LORRIE COLD BESIDE ME,
HELD HER HEAD BETWEEN MY FINGERS, HELD OUR MEMORIES INSIDE ME,
AND THEN I KNEW FOR CERTAIN, CLOSING OF THAT AWFUL DAY,
MY REASON TO KEEP LIVING HAD SLIPPED SILENTLY AWAY.
AND ONCE A YEAR THEY TAKE ME TO THE PLACE WHERE LORRIE'S LYING.
MY HANDS WARM THE STONE ABOVE HER, FEEL SHE KNOWS I’M CRYING.
HOPE MY TEARS WILL TRICKLE DOWN AND IN THE EARTH THEY'LL FIND HER,
PRAY THAT SOON THEY'LL BRING ME TO FOREVER LIE BESIDE HER.
SO I LIE HERE IN THE DARKNESS IN MY YEARS THEY CALL DECEMBER.
I SEE LORRIE'S FACE BEFORE ME, HEAR THE LAUGHTER I REMEMBER.
FEEL THE PAIN DEEP IN MY HEART THAT NEVER GOES AWAY.
TASTE THE TEARS UPON MY FACE, DREAD THE COMING OF EACH DAY.
BUT THE DARKNESS THAT I LIE IN WILL BECOME ETERNAL DAY,
AND THE GULF THAT NOW DIVIDES US WILL MELT SILENTLY AWAY.
SOON THE DARKNESS THAT I LIE IN WILL BECOME ETERNAL DAY,
AND THE GULF THAT NOW DIVIDES US WILL MELT SILENTLY AWAY.
ELLIS CRAIG, DECEMBER 2022.
In dribs and drabs, in fits and starts,
the elders slowly congregate;
in the common room of the seniors' home,
they patiently sit and wait.
Some are wheeled in, some simply shuffle
in orderly fashion, without kerfuffle.
They've all been told
there's "gonna be a show"
put off by some "young people"
who (chances are) they don't know.
Many are quite alert and very aware
delighted to be together
and to have an experience to share.
Others come in a different mental state,
in their own little worlds,
seemingly uncerebral
yet dignified, quiet, sedate.
The entertainers have already arrived, in fact,
and as soon as the seniors come in
they start to interact,
exchanging pleasantries with hellos,
how-do-you-dos and "what're-ya-ats!";
smiles and handshakes easily given
with banter and casual chit-chat.
The nurses and attendants smile,
noting the connectivity,
and across the room faces brighten
at the growing sense of fun and festivity.
A happy mood pervades the place
as the singers smile and sing;
their voices effortlessly fill the air,
easy, relaxed, warm, soothing.
Lots of "old" songs are played and sung:
"Country Roads", "Danny Boy",
"Kiss an Angel Good Morning".
"If you know the words, please sing along!"
and so many of them do, with voices soft or strong.
But what sets this show apart
is the interaction
between singers and seniors;
their reaction and sense of satisfaction
of a diversion from the mundane,
a vivid and vibrant distraction.
And those with minds in altered states
are aroused from their lethargy,
hearing the music and sensing joy,
perhaps remembering when they felt such ecstasy.
Often, the singers will reach out to touch and hold a hand.
Elderly eyes light up and smiles show they understand.
A few of the more able-bodied are invited to dance,
a reminder of the long-ago days of youth and romance.
After an hour or so, the concert reaches its conclusion
with applause and cheers, compliments said in profusion.
The Sunshine Singers are pleased with a job well done.
The seniors and staff feel delight and satisfaction;
and everyone is enveloped in a warm glow:
the simple joy that comes from human connection.
Snoring bush pig
Relishing in reverie like a hog
Trudge on day-dreaming
Wandering beyond yonder
Think of no blunder in wonder-trance
Junking the Fourth Estate
Jumping at the Fifth Columnist Estate
The men in trance
Unsuspectingly saddled with the
Family’s mantle of leadership
Their eyelids basking to write
Their smiles determined to rite
Their yawn yawning to be tasked
Their heads rearing to go nodding
Like an Agama lizard
Their pen roaring with passion to
Dot nothing but ink
Their hands jostling to paste articles
As they took over
We dreamt of turn over
But they added nothing over
Except for our left over
Alas !!!!
We were all hoodwinked
They deluded us into something
Their leader gallivanting all over for nothing
In the mad rush for anything out of something
They foolishly lavish nothing
But Indolence of something
Vanishing into lethargy of nothing
Ink they could not dot
Meetings they organise not
Programmes became a thing of rot
September 24th Lecture of Late Layi Balogun
Our late Grand Patron went without a piece for lot
The family had survived
A silver jubilee this year
But with everybody in trance
Sleeping and snoring heavily
Soaring to nothing actually
When queried
They wink hush-hush eem-eem . . .
With a promise of something in vanity
What men are these?
For half a pen year
No child was born or adopted
Into the lovely family
For they slept snoring under
A tree called Fig
What men are these?
But . . .
May be . . .
But . . .
May be we should take solace
And console ourselves with courage
That those who sleep and snore
Can be woken up with water
And fire to figure out the unrepentant fig
We should for the last time
Live in another Paradise of illusion
That those that are in trance
Will wake up and refuse to die
It is only then
That a new family will be born
To restore the fading glory
Of the once glorious 25 years old JC family
The time is now!
The time is now!!
Now is the time!!!.
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
Immediate Past President, Journalists’ Club,UI
For and on behalf of Past Presidents,Journalists’ Club,UI
Oct.2nd,2005
9.45am
Form:
eyeing the current environment---
the ins & outs of everyday mediocrity,
that which for most is nothing less than a mundane pledge
whereby swimming with the stream, abiding all the preformed
parameters &
echoing the culmination of
listlessness
bound by increasing sedentary lethargy
sustaining a perpetual monotonous
nature &
as this exterior becomes exhausting,
complete utter indifference is only a few steps away---
the need to extend our mere human notions vibrates within
shoots up through the spine, flickering behind the retinas---
it speaks from inside the deepest darkest
regions,
asking for something more than what has already been
experienced &
from this starting point, the body seems to stall, to wait for the
gun to go off,
however,
there’s nothing outside the current biological self which can commit such an
act---
the body then commanded by the mind makes its way out into the world
engaging in acts that have to top their former,
as a “western civilized” thrill-seeking people
make their most desperate attempts to quench their thirst for
something,
anything,
more interesting than what is stuffed down their throat
by the mainstream saturation,
like a farmer poisoning the herd’s grain with
mad cow---
it is that which cannot be written down in the present for the
future
which defines your present moments
then,
and with these ensuing explosions of emotion &
hopeful chaos
(which can only bring change by default),
the pattern of creation &
destruction is kept on track,
ironically, because still very much more human than anything else at this point,
the flight into the sun is expedited---
what is craved by the experience-needy is the splitting of the unknown in
two & then
the subsequent stepping through---
this can only come about by an insistence on the
visceral,
allowing ourselves to assert our various destinies without regard to
preconceived ideas
concerning what was once thought possible.
do not settle for what seems to be the only thing this life is selling---
spit on the comfortable dissatisfaction
found in the complacent &
venture out beyond
using all the energy you have at your disposal.
My friends, it is a dismal thing
At such an hour to pound and ring!
Let others shiver if they must,
I shall not greet a sky of rust!
Let first the air be half so warm
As in this covered nest I form.
And then, perhaps, if need of it,
I’ll lift an eye, and half-way sit.
Forever slept, thou fiendish, foul-formed fool!
Forever fallen gods raise mortals cruel!
Forever shalt thou freeze within thy bed!
Forever warmth from I and Earth is fled!
Forever field and forest shall be dead!
A glass of wine, my dear. A bottle, nay!
More sweetly then, thy passions, shall they play.
In all great measure dwells but sad decay.
In narrow compass, cruel and awkward things.
Melt then the moment to what mirth one may!
Well wine will warm, when wandering wit it wings!
To find joy in sorrow, sorrow in joy,
Whence withered wits, divine delights destroy.
Then for thy flock, what else wouldst have them be?
Shall all their moments reach eternity?
All leave my banquet, as they must.
I make them wet, yet still, they’re dust.
What shall they leave behind when once they’re gone?
Shall sorrow only other sorrows spawn?
Thou knowest, perhaps, we build a certain ship,
That mayst from here to dark Kimmeria slip?
Aye.
For I do hear their pounding night and day;
And all fair dreams, it chases straight away;
And what became of lethargy, I say?
Mayst not a lazy man have peace and play?
I build the ship, and yet shall mortals go?
Therein I need thy help, that it be so.
Dionysus, who divinity forgot?
Dionysus, drink debasing down to naught?
That Dionysus, is it, now is sought?
That Dionysus, aye. Yet speak not thus.
There’s greater pain abroad, than e’er ‘twixt us.
We ask a ship of mortals leave their home,
The land of light, to fog and darkness roam.
The sacred paths of Earth to leave behind,
And in its place, but dismal Hades find.
The treasured, troubled Earth beneath the sky!
We ask they leave, nor may we tell them why.
Let once I show the way and they shall go.
Enough! Tomorrow shall you know it so.
I came from a village
Very fortunate to have attended college
He came from a cottage
Got lost on his quest to finding courage
I need not waste time for I have no future leverage
During the busy day when both the minute and the hour arm of the clock
Fell on each other at the very top of the clock
Signaling the day in its half
When the sun becomes shinny and unfriendly
They sat in the class all catchy and quietly
Seeking to decipher the key to unlock the answers
to scientific formulae and mathematical equations
I walked bare footed with a single arm shirt hanging to my west
With a very flat stomach as though I have smelled no food in the years past
My skin pays no more attention to the burning sun
For they now look like father and son
I travel from one town to another
Looking for what?
you will wonder my brother
People stared at me and wonder
Most people think of me as a thief
But those who knew me look at me in grief
I am no thief nor mad
I am only a boy who is grieved and sad
Searching for a way to making my future glow and my progeny glad
I am the scavenger of the waste metallic materials called scrap
I am not solving scientific formulae and mathematical equations
I am seeking the key to unlock my future from the shackles of poverty*
My palms are all callused and nails fractured
My teeth lost its purity for it knows no tooth brush in a while
My beautiful toning black African colour left without notice
My youthful smile gave way to a sadden old age
But I was brimming in determination to succeed
I shook off my lethargy and fought on all odds
I walked, scratched and bled just to work
Most people said I am useless and or mad
But I was just a hard working lad
Working so hard to see myself through education
So to you I say, see me not as destruction
For all I need is your kind word of motivation
And do show to me the right direction
So that I may be among the beautiful generation
In contributing my quota to building the nation
That is all I ask, I plea thee