Long Trumpeters Poems
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One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care
Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand
Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground
Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap
Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared
Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"
Gentle Prof –
The tales were so loudly told
Of new buses, of omnibuses;
Your tales-bearers so numerous
Loud-sounding speakers
Sharp ear-piercing trumpeters
Harping like some prime oracles
Announcing the benevolence of the deity
Each weaver sing-wept for joy
Even in these hard times!
Where are the buses?
Where are the omnibuses?
In a trick of sacrifice
Within the shrines of smaller deities
The gallant wheels bear the kids
Of our rabbi-bosses
Pampering their swap-ward women & maids
Like the ambrosia & emerald of deities
(Prof, a watch-lad saw them)
Was this intent?
Then on the day of campus turmoil
A new elephant-wheel came to us
(Prof, a watch-lad saw it all!)
Lads & lasses beamed as bosses
In the gallantry of a new conveyancer
– Was this intent? –
(Pro, think well now!)
Was it the trick of old bosses
To cover another clear loophole:
To dim the eye of the sun?
Form:
Dreamers dream
Scoffers scoff
Thinkers think
And droppers drop
Artists create art
Writers will write
Beware of biters, yes they will bite
A smiler will smile
Still sometimes they'll frown
Although mostly happy
There are times they feel down
Laughers may laugh
Other time they will cry
Life ain't so easy
That's why tryers try
Stinkers will stink
Comforters will comfort
Listen to trumpeters
They really do trumpet
Listeners will listen
Talkers will talk
Movers will move
It's hard for them to stop
Shakers will shake
Steppers will step
You wouldn't be surprised
If a sleeper slept
Circles will circle
Back to the start
A dreamer dreaming
Creating his art
Dusted off for SKAT's contest.
Form:
let’s remember the ancestors
the ancestors of the clan –
the infamous and un-kingly kings
celebrate their inglorious libations
all over my land, my clan –
but, my clansmen
let not the clan forget the famous
foundations of the nri kingdom –
let’s remember the ancestors
the ancestors of the clan -
let the name of agaja trudo
be on the marbles of dahomey finest artists
for ’tis nothing infamous
for mansa musa to be versed
upon the new urns of the mali kingdom –
let mai ali ghaji be greeted
with the finest literary trumpeters!
let osie tutu sit seat-to-seat
with nelson mandela –
my clansmen
new are our horns today
let not the old horns of africa
be cut off in the zest of the artists
for my ancestors shall not be
mere spectators, mere winds
flying the history of my clan!
Form:
Exultant joyous voices
magnify the God of glory
Triumphant midst sustained
hymns of Gospel story
Radiant countenance of church singers*
vanquishes misery…
Jubilant choir members** are they
enraptured with divine victory.
Greatness of the Lord reverberates
along their songs of praise
Kindness from heaven they declare,
devoid of flat notes’ trace
Blissfulness reigns in their medley,
championing mercy and grace…
Faithfulness exuded by Christ anchors
their music ministry commitment-brace.
Exalted is the loving Saviour
in their thanksgiving chorale rendition
Spirited worship marks melodious notes
sung upon faith expression
Delighted souls are drawn
toward joyously earnest adoration…
Granted service-blessings
blend with their harmony’s perfection.
*2Chronicles 5:13 It came even to pass, as the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the LORD; ... saying, For he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever: that then the house was filled with a cloud, even the house of the LORD.
**Choir Members of the Christian Bible Baptist Church, San Pedro, Laguna, Philippines
November 22, 2019
1st place, "Your Favorite Artist" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 11/26/2019.
(for: chinua achebe)
Part One
With gaiety and some pump
Forerunners, trumpeters
And the Gala came to us –
Varied voices, many eyes on faces
Swift to see the lapis lazuli
Nature’s gift to a forest:
(Teachers and teachees,
Authors, farmers and traders,
They came with songs;
Scholars and scholees,
Misters, mistresses and villagers,
They came with songs;
Lecturers and lecturees,
Drummers, dancers and clan-leaders,
They came with songs;
Professors and professees,
Pro-chancellors, chancellors and chair-holders,
They came with songs;
Governors and governees,
Business giants, dwarfs and hawkers,
They also came with songs!)
Form:
I have claimed to be apolitical but there are times
when the crop is ready for harvesting, so I put fuel
in the John Deere, ink in my pen and wrote...
He'll get millions of votes for that nicked ear
The vengeful narcissist people should fear
Picasso President
With malicious intent
He should be given the famous Bronx Cheer!
It looks like the graffiti on the wall
Four more years and America will fall
Trump will blow his own horn
Guilty of loving p.o.r.n.
And the rape of all the women he's mauled
There's another Trump, Junior's daughter, Kai
Brought a tear or two to dear grandpa's eye
It was her intention
During the convention
To convince people that he's a good guy
Melania was there but just for show
Since he paid off Stormy... well uh, you know
She has kept her distance
Abhors his existence
She can't be with him since he's had a ho
His Trumpeters may be humbled one day
Those who will vote for him and have their say
Those who are so headstrong
Thinking he's done no wrong
The beast who led America astray
He hasn't made the US great again
He's torn the nation apart... friend from friend
Time will tell the story
But there'll be no glory
Picasso President is no Godsend.
Trump toadies must be in a state of bliss
When his venom spews like a snake, hiss, hiss
They praise the dictator
The alienator
His villainy too baleful to dismiss
I've never liked saying, "I told you so"
But D J Trump is a jerk and a schmo
He's a divisor of men
When he's elected again
His tyranny will reign like a deathblow
I've read a few posts about Trump and yet
Not one comment did I write to upset
Another poet's view
I expect that from you
Without hostility or epithet
T'was eighty two wonderful years,
Before you departed to leave me in tears,
My loneliness hearkens to the fears left by the hearse,
Even the harmattan couldn't dry my streams of tears,
Because I know now you are no more near.
You left through the corridors of November,
Twenty eight is a number I will forever remember,
It can't even be withered by any winter,
As long as the sun shines and the stars twinkle,
I will remember you even after my cheeks wrinkle.
I came out first under your big umbrella,
You rhymed my name and I became a Cinderella,
You left me on a path illuminated in high candela,
You decorated my life with beautiful chandeliers,
You poured wisdom full into my many tumblers.
Before God made all the angels your trumpeters.
Now with God your soul now forever stays,
Your demise messaged more things than you could say,
To your honour I shall live my days,
May God almighty continue to guide my ways,
Rest on dad, till we shall meet at the heavenly quays.
Waiting once more for the wonders at dawn,
a tired, empty muse paces midnight's lawn
struck dumb by notions refusing to spawn.
With nothing to prompt, she sneaks up the stair.
Some twenty young bards enroute along there
seeking a clue, found her out like a bear.
Two go swimming, three take pets for a stroll,
four watch a mare giving birth to a foal,
two quarrel and bicker, one catches a mole.
Another cleans house for friends who are ill.
three read the Bible; one cooks on the grill;
two trumpeters rehearse their latest drill.
Who needs a muse? Be amused, seize your day!
Embrace moments, then write the night away.
written Dec. 2, 2011
a sonnet similar to Keats' sonnets with four tercets and a couplet
using monorhyme.
2013, Carol Sunshine Brown - WHO WHAT WHERE
May 11 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on 2Chronicles 5-8
Key Verse – 2Chronicles 5:13 It came even to pass, as the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the LORD; and when they lifted up their voice with the trumpets and cymbals and instruments of musick, and praised the LORD, saying, For he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever: that then the house was filled with a cloud, even the house of the LORD.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO HEARS
OUR THANKSGIVING TO HIM
Praise be to God for hearing our thanksgiving to HIM Whose mercy is:
Eternal with His everlasting gift
Essential by His enduring greatness
Especial through His exemplified grace
Evangelical along His endowment of the Gospel
Excellent upon His enabling governance and guidance
2Chronicles 6:10 Praise be to the Lord
for performing His Word with His:
Precious peace
Priceless precepts
Persistent presence
Powerful providence
Poured-our provisions
2Chronicles 7:14 Praise be to the Saviour
for inviting us to seek His face that needs our:
Humility midst His purging pardon
Heartiness through His proving prudence
Hopefulness along His proclaimed promises
Hearkening to His principles as well as perspective
Holding on to His prevailing protection in our prayer-plight
2Chronicles 8:12 Praise be to the Almighty
For accepting our offerings through His:
Book toward our revival
Blessings for our restoration
Benefits replenishing our resources
Blissfulness refreshing our renewed radiance
Beckoning rejuvenating our reaching-out with readiness. Amen!
May 11, 2024