Long Male child Poems
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Rejection chain reaction
New Born Male Child
A babe suffering during while
A Mother who wanted her son to die
Heaven’s intervention rise
The new born experienced Asthma, Yellow Jaundice and Malnutrition
The birth weight way below normal circumstances
Life surrounding was uncertain
Doctors are given up hope
Assurance was no cope
Doctors calculated that the babe will only live to 7 in longevity
They told the family to prepare for a funeral and not become attached, but if I lived on it would be God’s will
The Doctors suggested that I put in a Foster Home, but my Grandparents stepped in
Foster Home ruled out
Fast forward through the years, the babe grew up to a teenager of 17 and beyond
The Male teenager spend many weekends with his mother who didn’t want him
The Mother often said she wanted a Girl
No fault on my part, I just became the end product what God wanted me to be
She would cuss and chastise the son for no apparent reason
It was always criticism and negativity that came from the mother to the son
There was definitely a wall of a barrier between the mother and son with love nowhere to be found
The son was blamed for his mother not marrying the internal father
How does a child who didn’t ask to be born being the problem?
The Yellow Jaundice had changed the pigmentation of skin to Caucasian, but that was only briefly when I was born
To this day, the son feels no love and doesn’t extend love to his mother
There used to be a lot of anger and bitterness, but since has been released
Carrying plenty of tension throughout the years
The son prayed to the Lord in honesty in stating he didn’t love his mother
The Lord’s response, “Just respect her”
There were times the son hated himself thinking it was a mistake in him being born
There was even a thought of suicide attempt
A Mother who is not even proud of what her son who is independent, Graduated from college and Self-Alliant has become
The son will always believe a mother wanted to kill her son while she was barring with all her smoking, and stated quote “I would of had an abortion done when abortions weren’t even heard of back then
Yet, a son who is ever proud and achieved greatness in life under the Lord’s eyes.
Continuous sobering thought crippling me :
' Seven hundred thirty six million
women, means almost one In every three'
are vulnerable to molestation.
Most shocking Global Statistics to mention :
A nasty ruthless truth , hard to believe !
Is this progress of civilization ?
With respect and peace how can women live ?
Sexual , also physical violence
by intimate partner or non partner :
Thirty percent women experience.
Sexual harrasment to count later.
Where lies remedy ! What's the solution ?
' Woman to respect and protect always.'
From very childhood, male child to learn
' That's prime duty of man ' ! I must say..
To honour a woman at every step
should be a perfect Man's priority.
Sure, this moral concept will prevent rape
building a happy healthy society.
inahitaji kuimba mbele
ya wanakwaya kila mahali
Sing brother sing
Imba kaka imba
Imba kaka imba
Nightingale brother
His name is Elijah
He's a nightingale
His God is still the same
A young Nightingale repeats the repertoire he hears
As he knows God's name
He strikes a pose
Sings a song a power verse
He can't be wrong he knows his God words
Sing those words those songs
He's still the same now
What if us
In whom God We trust
What have we denied
God forbid
Take off that cloak
Elijah roll it up-
wait for the burst
fly away singing joys of praise
Shall he be shy, let him sing-sing
Let him sing-sing
Yahweh is my God
So sing forth resonating tweets of Joy
Sing for good night peaceful beats
Channel versus so sweet so sweet
Sweet Elijah Nightingale
Needs to sing in front of a choir- everywhere
imba Kaka imba
Yahweh nah mongo wangu
-Elijah Nightingale
Repeat those the songs that you hear
Praise the Lord with the voice resounding so lovely
His name is Elijah and he sings what he hears a lovely
Brown brother bronze a male child who cheers
He hears his spirit song and he's a nightingale
What if he's stilled God forbid
Let us hear the background voice
What is his choice
to sing the songs he hears Hallelujah
2/8/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Languages used English and Swahili
"from future anthology -Where Are the Villagers"
Q: What would Roy Rogers have been called if he had been a singing farmer?
A: King of the Plowboys.
Q: In the Beowulf saga, who was a male child of the hag Grendel?
A: A real sonofawitch.
Q: What's the slogan for an ad campaign for a certain fabric in Copenhagen?
A: "Something is cotton in the state of Denmark".
Q: What is fear of joining a fitness club?
A: Gymtimidation.
Q: When she worked onstage in a comedy, what could actress Elaine do for an audience?
A: Keep it in Stritches.
Q: What might you call the LGBT version of the glass slipper story?
A: "Transgenderella".
Q: Also for theatre and film buffs--What would you call public transportation in a ghost town?
A: A streetcar named Bizarre.
Q: Why did the man tell the 911 operator to please send help quickly when his spouse appeared to be choking?
A: It was a matter of wife or death.
Q: What is someone who hitchhikes across the country studying different dialects?
A: A roads scholar.
Q: How did the Glasgow "Evening Times" reporter headline the story of the party boat that sank after hitting an iceberg?
A: Scots on the rocks!
Form:
Truth Behind Myth: Mermaid
Life started in sea.
Evolution yielded varieties of fish
Evolution went on natural selection
Fantastic species evolved.
Fish with tail, raised human head,
Above waist human,
below waist shiny scaly fish tail
swam propelling hands.
Male version Merman and female Mermaid came.
Not at all Mythical, but actually Ancestral.
Ages were passing.
Evolution ran through ages
Tail was transformed to legs
First male child born to Merman-Mermaid couple.
named ‘Adam’
Baby girl born to second couple.
called as 'Eve'.
Children swam at sea.
Both walked and played on sea shore.
First Man and Woman Adam- Eve: Couple
left sea and settled on land.
They set up beautiful Eden Garden set.
Once Eve plucked one apple and ate half.
She hid behind tree.
Adam took rest half.
Both attained wisdom.
Eve started wearing leaf string with clams and pearls.
Adam put a twig.
04/13/17
A Mythical Creature Contest by Julia Ward
"A child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts."
W. Wordsworth
I am your grandmother.
I spent 24 years making
parenting mistakes, so I think
I'm pretty well trained now,
pretty worn down, open-minded
and accepting.
I think we'll be good friends.
At sixteen, your mother
said she was having a baby
and held up to me the blue pastic
device that tested her urine stream
like when she held up the blue ribbon
she won in kindergarten for the best
easter bunny nest made from marshmallows
and dyed yellow coconut.
Then she threw the blue device out
into the space between us on the bed,
like it was the best card in her deck,
her ace in the hole.
Your father waited in the other room
sitting in the thick silence,
afraid to breathe and miss
my response.
You and your mother did all the work,
but I was there at your birth,
Standing alongside, coaching your
mother to good contractions until
I was exhausted from gritting my
teeth and pushing too.
And your dad was there, too,
but closer to the business end
so he could be the first to know the sex.
An unsolicited psychic had told us
you would be a girl,
and when your dad was told,
he sulked all day
like it was a conspiracy
between the women to produce
only other woman.
He wanted another guy,
someone to give the men the edge,
a male child.
When your mother's body could
keep you from the world no longer,
your head appeared, eyes tightly
shut and a pout on your lips.
Your dad was watching closely,
the shoulder, the belly and then
his arms flew up in the air
like he'd made the touchdown
and he cried, "It's a Boy,
I told you, I told you,"
like he and I had placed a bet.
But then he saw how much
I could love the boy child.
I'm a pretty good grandmother,
and I think we'll be good friends.
When mothers are delightful to deliver a male child
And fathers feel huge pressure to see a new born female child
The Almighty is hopeless !
When people are busy for more money
And children are growing to destroy their childhood
The Almighty is hopeless !
When political leaders leave to the king of policies
And democratic people are silent for personal interests
The Almighty is hopeless !
When Temples , mosques , churches are captured by communal forces
And religious people forget to their original religion which is humanity
The Almighty is hopeless !
When truth is defeated by untruth
The Almighty is silent and The Sun rises in the east .
I am hopeless !
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
An old Asian named Asheet Midrawz
Pooped himself; then discovered the cause
Eating too many plums
Gave poor Asheet the runs
His wife loves him despite all his flaws!
*Asheet is a genuine Christian name whilst the rest of the poem is fiction
BY JAN ALLISON
Asheet Midrawz had a problem for sure
When he couldn't open the toilet door
He let out a wail
His wife grabbed a pail
Been used for bleach now his rump is so sore
BY SEREN ROBERTS
Asheet I've heard has got the runs
Dripping down from his wretched buns
And his wife Pu Phlung
Of his troubles sung
A little ditty and some cracking puns
BY TIM SMITH
Asheet married when he was young
His beloved’s name is Pu Phlung
When they had male child
His grandparent’s went wild
As they christened the baby Dung
BY JAN ALLISON - INSPIRED BY TIM'S POEM!
Little boy Dung was a bit of a chunk
Made a kerplop when the vicar did dunk
Water all about
Poor Pu did shout
Because the whole congregation now stunk!
BY TIM SMITH
10-13-17
Although the kiss was brief
The sensation seem to linger,
His eyes still closed when he felt a pain
As she ran the razor sharp nail of her finger
His eyes popped open as he looked at his chest
She hushed him and stroked his hair while whispering “rest”
He found that he was laying on the floor
Surrounded by snow, his chest was bloody and gore
“What you doing?” he begged
“Hush I said.”
“All will be revealed in time,”
“Rest you’re now mine.”
He panicked and tried desperately to move
But could not, as if his body had been removed
She sat next to him as her tail caressed his face
The scent of a woman was pleasurable, her tail like a silky lace
She spoke “ Do you remember long time ago,”
“The beginning of your people’s sorrow?”
“Yes,” he replied
The reality of his situation dawned on him as he deeply sighed
“The sacrifice should have been from the chief’s fruits not a bearer,”
“Yes,” he replied, “A male child not female that’s what brought our terror.”
“What Happened to Little Irit?” she asked
He hesitated for a while, “She was taken by Coyote,” he said at last
“Probably eaten, how should I know.”
She whispered “That was not so.”
“I am Irit the sacrifice, not little anymore,” “They now call me Irma.”
Child of Coyote, Goddess of Devolma”
“Although you killed my father, his spirit lives in me”
She straddled him, sat on his belly leaned forward and said “Look in to my eyes and
see the fate I have for thee”
Her eyes were pools of fire
As he saw his fate, the terror made him scream out and perspire
Her fingernails slowly pushed under his chest deep inside
Slowly tearing the skin open wide
He screamed but his body did not move
He passed out, she stopped and waited until he was fully alert before continuing the
skin removal
“Medicine man where is the one that should have been given in my place?”
“Show haste and I might spare the rest of you and your face.”
The pain was to much to bare and thought he would die at that moment in time
But her words echoed in his pain “YOU ARE MINE”
“His in hiding in the great towns,” he screamed
The exposed muscles to the air was like no other pain but she had hot water on the
fire which steamed
“Hush, this is only the beginning for you medicine man she whispered….
To be continued….
At the birth of every male child,
At his hair-cutting event styled,
At first birth-celebrations wild;
At his sister's ear-ring pomp, mild,
At school when their admissions filed,
Blasts the crumb, whole soul forces, piled...!
When enjoying a silent sleep,
When solemn meditation keep,
When, within, alone, cry or weep;
When as rituals blind-faiths, seep,
When in farms rich harvest we reap,
Roars the crumb of drum like bomb-heap...!
When boys go mystic in playground,
When girls hysterically bound,
When kith-and-kin awe-filled surround;
When moralists sow seeds so sound,
When, wildest of the wild gets crowned,
Booms crumbs of music; all get drowned...!
At great festivals of marriage,
At bride-groom's glamour-horse carriage,
At bride's courtyard like effleurage;
At death, with mourning, like steerage,
At mingle of broods like peerage,
Cracks crumbs with fullest coverage...
Crumb, for us, is not bomb or shell,
Nor any grand ancient witch-spell,
Nor blast of some planets far dwell;
It’s, loud noise pollution, like hell,
That, in truth, is a rude death-knell,
Though we cherish it like church-bell...
19 January 2022