Here comes a generation of substance.
Trouble lies, her name is Constance
Future of tomorrow caught with substance
Imagine Janet, Judith, Tiktok for instance.
Looking Hot another name for Misconduct.
Tell Angela Martins I have her product.
She ordered ring light for brightness
With a future filled with darkness.
Technology is sweeter than Candy,
Sweeter than the candy I gave to Andy.
Teenagers teenaging in Advancement,
With rationality reduced to Entertainment.
Tiktok, Facebook and Whatsapp,
Nigerians are lost in you dear App.
Tell them what you're meant for,
Lest we dance wastefully to Old age.
In hues orange, pink, red, teal and purple,
the sunset skies look quite unique tonight,
to laud this hour of summer eternal-
pretty as the purple martins in flight!
Each hour's new, though they go in a circle;
And I'm thrilled fate put me here for this sight.
Early, eager moon, remembers cream clouds,
Coming to soon fade, like the floral crowds.
warmth floods over me
when blue flowers are climbing
sage red rose timing
sitting on the stairs
in sweet caress of warm winds
gold noon never ends
sitting among scents
under lemon chiffon clouds
in butterfly crowds
soaking saffron sun
as purple martins sing soft
wealths of rich gold caught
In the quiet night, I adore your face
So lovely. even when breathing with grace.
I yearn to kiss you, so tender and true,
Whispering my sweet nothings as I knew.
Dawn begins to expand as we embrace.
I kiss her luscious lips, I yearn, hearts race.
We feel the tender flame, our tangled vines,
Stars twinkle softly, fade, and the sun shines.
The multicoloured martins fly in song,
Outside buyers are busy. prices strong.
I go down and order morning good food.
But for our taste coffee is freshly brewed.
The balmy breeze entices us to swim.
I yearn, admiring her figure so slim.
Alas, our honeymoon is over soon,
We go home. In love, we yearn for the moon.
I still remember the suit and Doc Martins,
choker full of X’s, and a brand new mantra;
Rebellion was tricky and full of temptation,
doing my own thing alone with a mission;
Peer pressure never really phased me
I was violently loyal to my own ideology;
I’m glad I met that straight edge kid
back in high school;
Finding a tribe that shared my firestorm;
No drugs, no smoking, and no alcohol.
Who knew others were my kind of crazy?
I always thought that I was alone,
‘True til Death’ that lyric will never die,
it became a sort of gospel to live by.
Yes, I was clean when I was in college,
as an adult that lifestyle’s harder to follow;
I’m glad I met that straight edge kid
back in high school;
Now whenever I hit a difficult patch
I don’t entertain any kind of crutch;
Working through it let’s feelings fade
I can handle this just like the next bang;
As time goes by and the world gets heavy?
I stay sober, I’ve been there already.
I’m glad I met that straight edge kid
back in high school.
We had Debbie Gibson,
And Motley Crew.
We had Jon Bon Jovi,
and Scooby-Do.
We had Axl Rose,
And MTV.
We had school
house rock,
And MR. T.
We had Alf,
And Pac-Man.
We had Doc Martins,
and Duran, Duran.
We had Boy George,
And Bill and Ted.
We have Ferris Bueller,
home sick in bed.
We had Where's the Beef,
and Robo-cop.
We had Thunder Cats,
And pudding pops.
We had Ayatollah,
And the Whopper.
We had Spud McKenzie,
And Cyndi Lauper.
We had Ziggy Stardust,
And Family Ties.
We had Michael Jackson,
and Hungry Eyes.
We had Rainbow Bright,
And Flash Dance.
We had Pee Wee Herman
And Puffy pants.
We had Led Zeppelin,
And David Bowie.
We had Pink Floyd,
And Chocolate
Chips Ahoy.
We had Jaws,
And Richard Pryor.
We had the
war on drugs,
and Easy Rider.
TURBO1904 ?
Strangers but loved
aged pianist's hands
don't die in silence...
The old pianist watches
his hands ... learned
a secret... the music...
Even injured and with strength
touch still finds.
In silence his tips
dactyls hurt, suffer...
But the silence knows that
will speak in his ringtones...
dying toes
suck the last ones out of life
sighs...
The old pianist sweating,
cry dry tears...
But the blessed sound
the piano plays the music
holy, torn from
heart...
Homage to pianist João Carlos
Martins and his extreme pain in the
extremities hands and fingers...
Shall I forget my asking a brother:
“Who of The Two has A Much Taller Order?”
And Dairy Hand mishandled An Udder,
For round spinning to watch Close Adder…
Martin Luther and Nelson Mandela,
If they were Fidelis - Fidelia,
Then Stark Crudity of South Africa
Matched Mixed Decency of America
And True killers, sometimes reasonable,
Same as Searching Eyes for The Treasonable;
Or would one Some Healthy Type Writer
Praise like Zealous Breathless Writer?
More air outside The Cell for Martins,
Nelson in Dark Prison with Batons.
Martin Luther could time find for Quotes,
Nelson Mandela for The Word that floats...
And one had had A Far-Too-Funny Wife
That drew a picture of Another Strife,
The bizarre assembling for journalists;
For her Cosmetics the longest lists...
There always is some First Among Equals:
The same family but Yells aren’t Squalls…
An apple blossom respite, among the wild springtime blooms,
Silence in hot sunshine golden, a pause in the familiar tunes,
Muted, pretty purple martins, in the season of endless green,
Indulge in a quiet spell, where teal sky and treetops convene.
Pretty blooms pause on runways, in the lazy style of summer,
Red butterflies erratically fly, to beats of a different drummer,
Lethargy now has precious time, caught within its silken grip,
Like silver moon and twinkling stars, in the endless courtship.
Clap your hands, sing with joy for warm spring is here.
Swallows are the first to arrive now the sky is clear,
Purple Martins perform aerial acrobatics
To snap up flying insects as is their tactics.
Chickadee small and pretty songbirds enthral
But the goldfinch is the most beautiful of all.
Below a dazzling garden so well designed,
Each patch adorned with fragrant flowers all lined
With special flowers of every marvellous pansies,
And in each patch, you'll find flowers which one fancies,
Impatiens, begonias, petunias, delightful in the breeze,
While all around work is began by pollination by the bees.
28 April 2022
Spring Rhyme - 8-12 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Placed 2
I never asked you to dance
in the moonlight
by the pool of St. Martins statue.
I never saw you
sweep your hands
over the plains lovegrass
of a dewy field,
making them bend with you
and against you.
I never asked
what was your
dancer’s name.
You were a dancer
a lifetime ago,
before the babies
came, grew
and were gone.
A gold sunrise, where morning glory grows,
Creatures are stirring, a lilac rambling rose,
Noonday sunshine beams, bright marigolds,
Returning a blazing bliss, as the day unfolds.
A creamy lotus pond, beneath chiffon clouds,
And swans are swimming, an elegant crowd,
Honeybees are buzzing, along erratic routes,
Purple martins warble, before heading south.
The forget-me-not path, beneath bluest skies,
Painted daisies along picket fence, butterflies.
A beauty sun is going down in scarlet demise,
Exotic bleeding heart vine, nature's surprise!
A diamond sun lit up the azure skies,
And there was color in emerald fields,
Fragrant flowers in every hue and size,
Perky dabs of solar radiance revealed!
The beaming smiles were in the garden,
Just past the golden hour of the day
Of chianti sunflowers. Purple martins
Fluttered among the vibrancy at play.
It was peaceful, scintillating Sunday,
And speckles of color were everywhere,
With water lilies and singing blue jay,
While day moved toward sunset unaware.
flora washed clean
by torrential rain
extinction event
one inch of rain
in one hour
fledglings starve
my eyes wide open
watching helplessly
mass extinctions real
swallows swift martins
gone at my location
the sky washed clean
A ship sails upon coolly placid waters,
Into the sunset of many pastel colors,
Reflected in patches on deep blue seas,
Quite matching the skies' royal blue!
In the days of sun sea color and wind,
Into a hued horizon, soon it will blend.
Freedom and joy are not too far behind,
As purple martins follow warmer seasons.
Sun yellow to peach to orange pink red,
Drifting to sweet dreams on a watery bed!
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