Bronze in the dawn they move,the proud and free,
their manes ablaze with Africa's first fire.
Each pawstep falls with the weight of prophecy-
lords of the dust,born of hunger and desire.
-
They do not kill for sport or applause,
but by the eternal decree of their bones.
Their eyes-two suns that know no laws-
burn where wilderness guards its ancient thrones.
The veldt trembles ; silence kneels before their thread,
their breath perfumes the carcass and the bloom,
They are the memory of the unaccounted dead,
and the hymn of kingdoms without tomb.
Let man look at them and learn again
that power is not greed,and rule is pain.
Ye zindagi bhi alag he paheli hai,
Na Jane kiski kismat me kya liki hai.
Jo khelna caha wo bhi tuta, Jo na kela paya wo bhi Rutha,
Jo samaj na cha ha Wo apno se tuta.
Koi na jane kiske mane ,
Kya saccha kya juhta ye kon Jane ,
Insaan rang roop se bhar na dek paya,
Atma ko Chood kar sharir ko apnaya .
Khushi batne se badti hai,
Ek muskurahat me puri duniya Kilti hai.
Na kise ko dukh doo,
Na kabhi dukhi ho,
Doo din ki zindagi me Kush raho,
Hor Kush reha ne doo.
Ek dus reke bina puri duniya akeli hai,
Ye zindagi bhi ek alag hi paheli hai .........
-Affan.Shaikhsurab
I once sported a manly beard,
a beastly beard had I.
But then on the farm, at the crack of dawn,
while my lady cheered,
she chopped it off, and while the cows mockingly mooed,
I quietly cried.
And with that, a little something inside of me died.
I would venture to guess it was my manly pride.
She brushed and whispered into my tickled ear
"Brian, how I pined for your lovely face,
and your youthful countenance.
You don't need a mane to rival a lion in ferocity
-you're sensitive and wise,
I can see it in your eyes,
and your words they always seem to make sense."
Who was I to debate with her?
Her words would lose weight
if I failed to concur.
The wind brushes her red mane wild and untamed, lifting her gown
A trance sweeps and sways her figure while bright orbs surround her
Transported to other realms where forestry scenes blend far away
A wistful lean body revealed thru a sheer dress, she is lifted into thin air
As she twirls around to celestial sounds, with spirits she dances free
In this pipe dream phantasy I imagined it were me, on this blissful day
That Beautiful Mane And Her Pretty Dress
Should a poet grab on and celebrate
A bit of poesy or her virgin kiss
Finding her was it purest luck or fate
O' lord her soft smile this man sure does miss
And our weekend trek through to rolling hills
That cool breeze begging us ever onward
"Those tempting June nights full of golden thrills".
That beautiful mane and her pretty dress
The pure delight in her ravishing eyes
Our picnic that day became a sad mess
But deep was the love that so strongly ties.
I shall never forget when she gave in
Gave up the wonderful treasure to me
In youth we cared not about any sin
We were happy-go lucky and carefree.
Robert Lindley, 6-1- 2023
Sonnet
Note-
She was so sexy and just so beautiful,
We split because she went back to Hawaii
to go to college. She was a definite keeper but
life got in the way.
Once upon a donkey’s back,
as I rode I heard a quack.
Donkey worriedly shook his head.
“It’s a duck!” he brayed with dread.
I was surprised and could not speak.
Why would docile Donkey shriek?
Duck was not a fearsome foe.
Why did Donkey fear him so?
“Donkey,” I asked, “why do you fear?
Duck is merely following us here.”
“I don’t wish Duck to be so near.
His intent to me is not clear.”
“If Duck desires to ride with us,
I’m sure you won’t put up a fuss.”
But Donkey quickened up his pace
with a dark frown on his face.
I pleaded Donkey to slow down.
“Duck only wants a ride to town.”
His response was plain insane.
“Duck intends to pull my mane!”
So we refused poor Duck a ride.
My deep concern I could not hide.
I looked in wonder at Donkey,
his wacky fear a bit wonky.
Lion with the lovely mane
You are so pure, so loving, so sane
You are sassy, handsome and fine, and….
I want to make you my valentine
Morning, bright morning,
your promise has come
Morning, bright morning,
new birth of the sun
Into your arms
I bathe in reflection
Into your warmth
I strip off my fear
Into your heart
I surrender the darkness
Into your strength
I lay down my spear
Morning, bright morning,
your promise has come
Morning, bright morning
—today rebegun
(Local Train From 30th Street Philadelphia: May, 2022)
Lions
Fearless, watchful
Supreme and majestic,
Their mane, golden crested crown worn
With pride.
16.08.21
King of the Jungle
Queuing with my homies
Houdinis every one.
No sharpened tongues, but scissors,
To calm the shaggy throng
Not all blokes in this queue,
Despite lockdown's grooming blooper,
As I stand here and review,
Will contest my Bradley Cooper
Alas, Delilah wins.
It's time to shave my greying locks
Hirsute-less head, Yul Brynner,
Now the look my ego rocks
Now a simple peasant
With falling dreams, so vain.
No more the Isolation King
With glorious flowing mane..
My crowning jewel.
Majestic theft!
The jungle cries, her heart bereft..
As gothic curls now hit the floor;
The swooning fans will be no more
And yet..
Enthroned here, buys me precious time..
To formulate this simple rhyme
And meditate upon what's passed
As hairy shoes I have amassed.
I dwell on more important things
While scissors snap, and clipper sings
Of friendship. Love.
Of breathing air.
Despite the loss of debonaire..
The blessing of recaptured choices.
The privilege of freedom's voices.
And now my head, so strangely free;
Reminds of who I'm meant to be.
Jinjagoliath
13th April 2021
A women kept slinging her mane
That was caught in the wheels of a train
It cut her hair short
So, she went out and bought
A wig with a triple inch mane
Majestically standing in the field,
Black coat shiny, bright and sleek,
Pampered and good-natured,
Recently shod to ride,
Comfortable saddle to sit upon,
Whinnied to say "come on",
Spirited you want to run,
To own and ride a horse is a blessing not a chore,
Treat them right they will be loyal to the core,
Mistreat them !!!!!!!! Beware they kick.
The joy in my heart can't be explained
Sorta like when you get your first choo-choo train
Well I stand up to pee
Discovered have no teats
Which made sense, started combing my mane
Song Of Songs 8:10: I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers. Thus I have become in his eyes like one bringing contentment.
MANE OF THE GRAYING LION
God molded the figure of a woman - her curves and sultry skin;
and the eyes of beholden man, to search out the strongbox.
The jewels pure, as should the thoughts and deeds of love be.
Between bronze thighs a twinge of jealousy - reign in with responsibility.
Soft spoken lips of your virgin will wait
as you oil the lamp of intense love,
not pretentious lust. For one will save your life.
The other will burn the pyre.
Whilst the old wolf,
with a dry and dusty tongue,
drinks the dregs of sin, the mane
of the graying lion is content and soft,
memories like gems pass back and forth.
7/14/2019
Mane Branch
He sat
On the library steps
Reading
Between the lions
John G. Lawless
4/8/2017
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