Long Monkeys Poems

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Premium Member Heart Song

I was a famous conductor, and performing beautiful  music was my joy,
As diamond sunshine, to pervade darkness, finds any means to employ.

Music had long been a part of me, in that I sang long before conducting,
Like the famed adult bluebird choirs, lead the songs they are instructing.

My much loved work kept me busy. Still, I loved every precious moment,
As wild, crazy, summer colors dash afar, with no cries of encroachment.

But I had a personal favorite song, which I loved more than any other,
As anyone recalling their great loves, find their thoughts turn to mother!

This song had held special meaning for me, for what felt like long ages,
And I never tired of hearing it, as blooms will never have enough vases.

I thought of the melody as 'my song,' for in my heart, it was mine alone,
Like multicolored autumn leaves flying, when green summer is disowned.

It was then marigold days of sultry July, and dark purple martins soared,
Like finding you have heartfelt passion, for someone you once abhorred.

I had just entered a restaurant, when I heard that stirring song playing,
Like chattering, mischievous monkeys, swing forever in treetops, saying.

Then like always, I was transported, back down nostalgic memory lane, 
Just as orange birds recur every springtime, singing the melodies again.

As I was returning home that evening, the full moon was in the treetops,
Whispering with those flashing stars, as a part of the nightly peace talks.

As I went up the front porch steps, the fragrance of lilacs was tangible,
As on the streets of scarlet summer, where wild blooms are fashionable!

The moment I entered my house, my heart song began its playing again,
As a sultry summer that's come lately, only to meet the vivid fall refrain.

Though I was enraptured by extravagant music, and music was my life,
Still, it was odd that it could play itself, the moment this person arrived!

It seemed that the song I'd loved so long, had come to love me as well,
And had determined to follow me always, like fragrances casting spells.

My heart song is still pursuing, through mellow days and jasmine nights,
As owl stares at a moon of rapture, and bees are off on honeyed flights.

That song of precious sweet memories, greets me every room of my life,
Like a red rose that blooms for you only, even where wild blooms are rife!
Form: Couplet


Humble Nation , Congolese

Oh! good people ,
        Congolese of Democratic
                  Republic of the Congo, 
One of good and kind nations in the World
                      Very hospitable 
                       And Sociable
                         Peaceful 
                          And Joyful 
                           Pentient
                           And Loving 
                           Very tolerant 
                            And faithful 
Beautiful place where there are more natural 
     Rivers                                       Waterfalls                    
         Lakes                                  Islands
            Forests                         Beaches
               Parks                        Caves  
                  Gardens               Petrol
                      Gaz                 Salt
                   Minerals resources like:
                                          Tourmaline
                                      Coppers
                              Cobalts
                       Zincs
                      Coltans
                       Golds
                          Rubies
                              Diamonds
 Lithium,Uranium , Beryllium ,Silver ,Emerald ,Steel  Supphire ,Mercury ,Casterites manganese  ... ETC.        
                  
Country where people pick  up some minerals after heavy rains,
Second biggest African country with more than hundered millions people, 
Country of many ethnic groups with more     beautiful and wise women,  

Country with more national wildlife reserves where you can find:  Elephants ,Impalas ,Rhinos  Nyala, Buffalos ,Donkeys,Lions ,Mangroves ,Leopards, Snake,
Tigers ,Eagles,Gorillas,Cobras,Chimpanzees ,Peacocks 
Monkeys , and  Other sorts of animals and birds.

Oh! United people , 
humble nation on earth, 
People who know the real meaning  of forgiving and forgetting,  

People who were aggressed by their neighbours from 1996 to now, 
More than 14 millions Congolese died in the Wars,
Genocides, Massacres And kidnappings. 
People who always preach peace and love in the World. 

Cry , Crying with those crying in Congo daily, 
Pray,Praying with those praying for Congo daily, 
Assist ,Assisting Congolese to come out of decades wars. 
I share my pain with World.

Written 20- 2- 2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris

Save the Motherland Africa

SAVE MY MOTHER, AFRICA

Poor Africa, why have you allowed your ancient precious priceless beads taken away frm you while coveting after a common coated carved stones from the foreign land?
Where were you when your artifacts were shipped to the land behind the oceans
And your Children worked by the mill day and night

They took away your treasured garment and sealed you with an ''unsuitable suit'' from a distant land.
They inserted straw in a bottle and dip it in your mouth, but fix hose to your anus and passed it into a tank.
Draining your blood in the name of exchange

They took away your staff of office with which you have peacefully and successfully lead for centuries. They gave you guns in return to scatter your wards around, thereby losing ur respect.
They once respected you, now dread you
No longer the you they knew

Dear great Motherland where is your sense of supremacy of those good days, before u were made to look inferior?
Will you still allow this train to continue with d hopeless journey?
Where all we now live for is nothing but money
Now we treat one another line monkeys 

O great Africa hear the call from your womb
The child therein is due for delivery
Tighten not your cervix the passage of life
The future sits uncalm inside of you
The entire world awaits that unique cry
The birth of the future, the new world

Unchain yourself from the shackles of the West
Create your path trough the jungle
This is the forest from where you were raised
Where the paths to the streams and ranches
Paths to the mountains and the valleys
Your children raced and long for everyday

Call out your lost children behind the seas
Scattered across the deserts in their search for greener pastures that never exist
Call out in your slangs they know your voice
Let them come home to rescue the hailing mother
Our mother is sick and losing her breath

Fellow brothers and warriors on sojourn
Rest not in the land of your captivity
Run back home and heed the call of mama
Our mother has taken up a another father
Our step father rapes her day and night
Now about to die with her pregnancy

Come rescue our mother the mother Africa
Save the life of her unborn baby the new world
Time to leave the barn and head home
Home is where we come not their Rome
Romans built their home
Africa must build her own

(FM CONCEPTUAL)
Form: ABC

Premium Member The Playground Bench

Little Lilly wanted to go, to the playground, to have some fun the other day.
And all the other Trolls wanted to tag along, for it looked like fun, they said.
So we went at dusk, for our first try, so no wee ones, would be anywhere near.
For you know, Trolls can play pretty hard, and I didn’t know, just what to fear.

I quickly found a bench as home base, for those who needed to have a time out.
Anyone who couldn’t play gently, or broke anything, found they’d get the rout.
First the sandbox became a deep, dark hole, from which to pop up, to scare, thereat.
Of course, dodge ball became club ball, so you can guess what happened with that.

King of the Hill was a really big thing, since they are all, the most territorial, by half.
Surprisingly, the slide was all-OK, but trouble came from underneath, as they laughed.
They wanted to exact a toll, of course, in the middle, as you passed above, quite brief.
The merry-go-round made them dizzy, knocking everyone down, in a domino motif.

The Seesaws became a great big catapult… to the other far side of the playground.
The monkey bars! Well, they aren’t monkeys, that’s for darned certain, I expound!
They tripped, fell, and smacked themselves senseless with no ones’ help, I ensure.
It could’ve been climbed much better, if not covered in so much drool, I’m sure.

Swings became broken as they pushed the others, all the way to the moon, oops!
And basketball became a slam-dunk, as unfortunately they didn’t fit in the hoops.
Hop Scotch took coordination, and you have to be able to wait your turn, too…
So, as in tag, they started bumping and fighting, until becoming a crazy piled up dado.

Races started more fights as all wanted to win, and threw everyone out of their way!
Hearing a laugh, I turned around to see Grandpa Troll, was ready to stop the moray.
He stood near the bench, as I stood looking up, amazedly, at what they had done.
Now, there were other benches everywhere, but they were piled high, on a single one.


I’ll never truly understand the brain of a Troll, for them a playground’s just not fun.
And they don’t play gently, and are bigger, than our wee folk, as I had already known.
They spent the night, putting things to right, even better than before they’d been broke.
And I finally took them home, to find OTHER things, designed especially, for OUR folk.

Premium Member Heidel's Marching Band

Little Heidel clapped her hands
                      As she heard the marching bands
                      Monkeys came who were leading
                         With their funny tails beating
                          Colorful and cheerful drums
                          Ratta-tat and Rummy-tums
              
                    Next up came some marching tunes
                          clarinets played by baboons
                        Elephants marched next in line
                        Blowing horns, they did just fine
                         Heidel watched in joy at those
                      Now came cats, bells on their toes!

                        Heidel's papa jumped for joy 
                          Up next came a little boy
                             Playing fiddle joyfully
                      Heidel laughed for she could see
                         Brother Petra winked an eye
                      As the marching band passed by

                       Heidel's dream was so much fun
                          But her nap was finally done
                       Wiping way' sleep from her eyes
                     What she did next was no surprise!
                            Opening her pink toy box
                     Found her monkeys made from socks

                         Happy laughter followed soon
                          Heidel found her toy baboon
                          Stuffed elephants, a toy cat
                            She made them march,
                                   just like that
                           Heidel's papa came to see
                         Petra's fiddle joined with glee
                
                             Everybody shared a smile
                           Their joy lasted quite awhile
                          Heidel's toys were oh so grand
                           Such a happy marching band!
                       Heidel made her dream come true
                           Now her story's told to you!
                   
           
                                      Just for fun!
                      Dedicated to Grammy's sweet angels
                            My children and grandkids 
                          Make your dreams come true! 
                                            <3
Form: Rhyme


Fata Morgana

"Fata Morgana" 

feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection 

gently the sun waves smiling as if to say
feel that, the warmth of waking sleep
no fear of what remains hidden 
it will unravel from inside that which is all too deep

walking towards you across the briny mist
from ancient stories forgotten 
a halo of St Elmo’s Fire surrounds 
it stands still for a short while before you

watching 

you, 
walking water with your bare feet

faith in dreams consistent in their constancy
that visit you when you are complete yet incomplete
holds out its hand to lead the way across 
sharp burning rocks, now a desert, climbing mountains that are steep

a small life crumbles to powdered sand 
more than 40 days silent gone astray
years the turning of untimed tides pretence 
meets a haunting vision beckoning, new horizon, odd unclear

safe harbour left long ago, 
lost in that ornery time, cursed by flying monkeys' bellows
of bloodletting and betrayal, stock still, standing amidst the shallows
somewhere along the way dark narcissus followed

what breaks over the bow 
washes all stern fear away
sacred wings of albatross
ne’er to be sacrificed, no more night nor day

souls of ancient mariners 
forever follow me, even when I stray
the rich baritone of bedtime stories
messages in code conveyed, I hear them still today

now swallows spooning spinnakers
running directly before wind and sea
the water turns to wine, much stranger the belief,
all manna of trust it feeds

bells tolling 

no man’s an island entire of itself 
in unusual reckonings 
observing swimming hearts, that hear and see
the eyes that melt, this more curiously

in truth, the dream defends

messages eternal
life it never ends
tides move in and out
never alone when we begin

fata morgana
softly the moon ascends 

(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
VCB
Lux Vitae
5.5.10



"Under a splintered mast,
torn from ship and cast
              near her hull,

a stumbling shepherd found
embedded in the ground,
              a sea-gull

of lapis lazuli,
a scarab of the sea,
            with wings spread—

curling its coral feet,
parting its beak to greet
            men long dead."
("Talisman", Marianne Moore)
Form: Narrative

Schooled In Hard Knock Sufferance

Schooled in hard knock sufferance... -
soulful scribe matt er fact - seeks solemn sanctuary

Despite always pledging
allegiance to the flag
academic performance traced, narrated,
graphed... unfavorable zigzag

vertical lined spikes across
x-axis and y-axis displayed
dramatically sharper increased crag
when promoted one grade to the next

how comprehension did lag
attributed to allocating, dag
gone nabbit budgeting, crafting... productive
time usage, plus an affirmative nod,

whereby yours truly did lallygag
evincing object lesson procrastination
study habits shucked off cuz mum did nag
obfuscation regarding illegible note taking
I moost definitely haint gonna brag.

Deplorable curriculum vitae
not hearty and hale
equals pathetic academic performance
now displeases me,

yours truly did wanna fail
no matter parents told me, I got smarts
severe psychological dissonance
affected this male

in retrospect,... a tell tale
sign everyday existence
arduous, horrendous, perilous...

lifelong struggle analogous to quail
caught between cross hairs
tis pointless foregone opportunities... assail
self pointless, hence no surprise
metaphor locked within jail.

Report cards highlighted
plethora weaknesses bred
teachers exhausted markers
especially black red
spent small fortune replacing
regarding this jughead,

who practically proved deficiencies
prevailed within his head
arising and undoubtedly stead
dully contributing living
antisocially he approximated
being gratefully dead.

Search for acceptance during harrow
wing during formative years absolute zero
earning michelin equivalent laughing stock,
where mummified pharaoh
each arose out sarcophagus (cue Thriller -
Michael Jackson), a hero

cash equalling cow Jackson 5 era
before disgraced pedofile,
now keeps company with Nero
roman around within underworld
plus disembodied spirit Clarence Darrow,
who scopes, karaokes,
moonwalks... with monkeys.

Sundry dead souls heave pens, gogol,
and trumpet like Donald duck,
their afterlife I envy mingling sui generis
versus yours truly down on his luck
dismal flying colors

analogous to mire and muck
no man iz an island, yours truly isthmus
squeezing thru narrow passing lane,
this bummer doth aimlessly truck
this late bloomer summoning forth
long suppressed pluck.

Venture Off On This Path Contest

This journey started many years ago,
A Woodland path, I walked it slow,
From the beginning I had a plan,
To venture off into this land,
The road looked endless from where I stood,
I knew it was time to do the best I could,
My eyes were fixed on what was all around,
What I experienced was quite profound,
The treetops high they could barely be seen,
The air was fresh, crisp and clean,
The sky was vast, with melting shades of greens and blues,
Each step I took, I experienced something new,
The first time I stopped was because I heard a call,
A hurt exstrodanary bird named Afabulouscoo had a hard fall,
Her colors reflected the morning sky, 
Pink, yellow and blues, with a song that sounded like a cry,
She let me pick her up off the ground; I tried not to make a single sound,
I gently put her in the trunk of a tree, till she healed and could fly free,
Then I continued on my way,
It was still the early part of the day,
Purple Chipmunks scurried across my trail,
Shaking their bushy little tails,
Miles down there was an abandoned home,
Windows shattered, so I decided to roam,
Looked in the first room and found a pink crown,
Took a quick glance, to make sure no one was around,
I placed it on my head for a moment of glory,
This was just the begining of my strange little story,
Then I walked out and continued on my way,
When suddenly I heard two monkeys play,
Swinging from the branches above me,
They tried to take the crown from on top of the trees,
They were not very nice, evil I would say,
Screaming "come back here, we just want to play"
I ran real fast, and suddenly tripped and fell,
Looked up and realized I was next to a well,
There was a red bucket, It had a note inside,
"Get in and take a wild ride"
I climbed in and could barly fit,
I realized I was falling into a dark pit,
I Jumped out real quick, before I could not reach,
Then, saw a tree that had a giant peach,
I was feeling hungry so I took a bite,
Instantly the day turned into night,
The weather changed it started to rain,
The woods screamed out as if in agonizing pain,
“what did you do”” What did you do”
“Wake up now, or are forest is through!”
I rubbed my eyes really hard, 
 realized I had fallen asleep in my backyard,
My mother was standing over me,
Saying,“I just went to the store, here is a peach, eat it, it’s healthy”


By:Sabina
Go ask Sabina (Alice) contest
Form: Couplet

The Gift of Too Much

“Get lost, I don’t care,” snarled the young wolf disingenuously
The naïve stripling wanted little more than acclaim
With no knowledge of why it continued--
The 
       slow 
              pulsing 
                         of his 
                                  ruby 
                                         vitality 
                                                    into the 
                                                                wounds of others
Which he mistook for his own

One day kind fate bestowed a gift like none else:
A life full to overflowing 
With loving family and meaningful work
There was not one single extra quantum of energy
Work all day, family all evening, sometimes work all night
It all suffered from itself in a lovely, mediocre sort of way

But mostly it clarified
An argument, a stressful day, a worry had a price:
Family time, sleep, energy always the losers
Zero sum, one in, one out, unavoidable
The luxury of care was 
                                  dead.

So when rumors flew pell-mell, as they do 
Like the Wicked Witch’s monkeys
I let them, not pyrrhically hunting them
To their nattering source

And out went the sheep in sheepdogs’ clothing, 
Tissue paper acquaintances by the dozens, 
Card house construct of popularity
and most of all, irrelevant obligations
If you care so little as to be swayed by the winds of rumor
Then that’s how much investment I have in you.
                                                                        Bye.

I’m ironclad when impeccably intact in my integrity
Vulnerable only when I drop below my own equator
To the muck-slinging hyenas that beset us all
For when I am true to me, any harsh judgment of me
Reflects only on the one doing the judging, 
                                                              as I am FREE

This is not to say that I own no bathroom freshener
--To keep the boat afloat, one must diligently look for leaks--
But the double-edged steel of the naked truth 
Is the 
         only defense
And the best nutrient for the garden within
For then and only then am I right with myself and God, 
And free as can be expected 
                                          from the cares of this world

6/9/16
© By Author
For Contest: Rise above it
Sponsor: Becca Teagan

Premium Member Rats in the Cellar

Rats in the cellar, squirrels in the tree,
things aren't the same as they used to be.

When I left for school with my li'l lunch pail,
I didn't expect a penguin to swallow a whale.

Such an injustice, I've never seen,
a cantaloupe falsely imprisoned a bean.

It's unheeded screams, uncontrolled laughter,
when it's trolls that live happily ever after.

Doors off their hinges, pancakes are stacked,
biscuits are burning, windows are cracked.

Termites in the baseboards, rabbits that fly,
pigs that regularly take to the sky.

Voices that whisper, mad dogs that bite,
winds that go howling and look for a fight.

Wrapped in cellophane, mixed in a blender,
taped up in cardboard and returned to sender. 

Rainbows and ravens, kaleidoscope dreams,
leafless branches, gallows lit by moonbeams.
 
Music boxes, pink ribbons and bows,
tags come on packages; tags come on toes.

Curtains lifted, sick, unsavory scenes,
gear wheels in gear wheels run strange machines.

Dissected, disowned and double-downsized,
unaided, unacknowledged and unrecognized.
  
Puzzles, conundrums that cannot be solved,
water plus turpentine make witches dissolve. 
 
Pimentos are diced, harsh words are spoken,
nightmares are jumbled; eggshells are broken.
  
Lost in the doldrums, eyeballs protrude,
walking on blisters, a horse latitude.

Spineless jellyfish, lackeys and flunkies,
silver tongued vultures, branch swinging monkeys.
 
Experts and pundits, paid authorities,
Kool-Aid in canisters, down on your knees.

Bishops take pawns, the fat lady sings,
fires ablaze on black nights with kings.
 
Shattered stars, fragmented stones,
shining splinters, bleak, burning bones. 
 
Songs without meaning, songs without words,
sung by unseen phantoms and silent birds.
  
Refrigerators with pictures nobody knows,
eyes staring back, no answers disclose.

Spiders and spinning bicycle wheels,
buffalos, bandits, and slippery seals.

Electric toothbrushes, electric chairs,
lethal injections, pushed down the stairs. 
  
Pieces on the floor, a sad state of disarray,
the gift you've left me is insanity's bouquet.

You stole my cookies, pilfered my cat,
laughed at me roundly and turned me down flat. 

Mice it in the attic go chitter chatter,
have I lost my wits or gone mad as a hatter?
Form: Rhyme

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