Matures Poems

Mangled Time

Datura(belladonna perhaps in another form)

Matures the galaxy in jealousy despising love

Releasing jasmines death twisting Aphrodite's heads upon loves rewinding failures

Creation in question

Call from my mouth your kindness

Respond silence

Squander obnoxious craft

Illness requires me

And again

I disappear your vapors

Love Crosses the Borders

Love is born in our hearts
Our hearts make it grow
It matures within us unconditionally

Unconditionally, it grows among people
People from here and there
There is no limit for true love

True love has no explanation
Explanation makes it grow in us
Develops for someone on a foreign land

Love remains the core of our existence
Existence God put in humans
Humans across the borders

Borders separating people 
People break barriers due to love
Love is boundaryless, colorless and ageless
And ageless develops another love in older humans
Humans of wisdom and natural affection

Poem by N. Mugisho

Embodying the Light

Line of inquiry: 

truth imbibed
awaits assimilation
we feel it in our bones
in time dissolved meditation


Man's Advocate, Christ, returned to heaven's gates
yet, earth's need for Light remained paramount.
God had planned remedy which illuminates
man's body and soul from within like a fount.

Thus dwells seeds of truth in all those who embrace
God's Spirit, causing man's spirit to be stirred.
Light makes Himself known and His raw truth we taste,
digested daily from the truth in God's Word.

With prayer, conscience matures and converys
nourishment for a new diet of service.
Reproof brings discipline when our spirit strays
feasting with him who vainly tries to swerve us.

Wisdom absorbed into its mind, soul and frame,
our being can bring glory to our Maker;
with thoughts, words, deeds that proclaim His holy name -
three-fold - Creator, Savior and Caretaker.

For its worth in forgiveness and redemption,
our faith is sustained to the endpoint of sight
when we join our Christ at the doors of heaven
hearing, "Well done, you've broadcasted My Light."

What is Romance?

I keep asking myself - What is romance?
Why do people make a big deal of it?
I don't find it so special... at first glance;
- Just a strong attraction, you must admit.

But then I understood it's true meaning
- it's not just about doing things they like;
All it took was a little "mind-cleaning"
- it's not physical, or thinking alike. 

Romance is more about understanding,
valuing and respecting their beliefs;
It's about commitment, notwithstanding 
life's ups and downs, happiness and griefs.

The meaning matures along with our age -
That's why Romance remains such a huge rage.

Flamingo Matures

Pink flamingo had a flaming personality for sure.
The highhanded words he used were always so pure.
He kicked off a shoe and it landed smack into manure.
This made him a little less uppity, but a bit more mature.

Change

In the dance of time, dynamic and free,
Every second, a shift in destiny.
Life's canvas painted with the strokes so bold,
Static changes leave the stories untold.

The Childhood innocence transforms with age,
The Curious minds turn life's vibrant page.
Adult matures with the wisdom in years,
Change, the melody in our mortal spheres.

Omnipresent, like the weather's ballet,
The Nature's script changes on day by day.
Ocean tides alter, in a rhythmic boast,
Life's dynamic changes, we cherish most.

LIFE IS A SONG

LIFE IS A SONG

Throat cleared and a first breath taken
Life has begun and it’s full of surprises
Soon to sing loudly, but softly at first
A few wrong notes, it’s not the worst
Then keep in tune as the melody rises
From deep within, a voice will awaken

It matures in pitch as the years pass by
From treble to tenor and then baritone
Reflecting life with its twists and turns
But in harmony with others’ concerns
Passionate voice, not a heart of stone
Yet in later years, it takes time to fly

At a certain age, sadly a singing pause
Listening brings back a choral memory
No more solos and a wide vocal range
Remembering a part now feels strange
And a rasping tone sounds like emery
One day, it'll be just residents applause

Face Mask

Somtimes the face mask is just a face mask.
Often the face masks matures
showing the life-roads that a person has chosen,
for good or worse.

Always forgiveness has no mask.

Sometimes beauty hides an ugliness,
more often ugliness hides the beauty.
Mostly, a homily face veils the light of God.

Appearance and perception are a magic trick,
not of any mask
but of those who judge it.

A mask cannot hide the perfection
from those who have taken off
their own masks.

A Dance of Seasons

Written: June 19, 2023

______________________________________________________________

On the canvas of life's eternal stage,
The supple smoothness confronts the brittle break.
A delicate petal's silk, the passage of age,
From innocence to wisdom, a journey for sake.

The dance of seasons, a waltz of grace,
A symphony of colors, nature's embrace
In spring warm embrace, the buds unfold,
The supple smoothness is a story yet untold.

As youth's sweet fragrance fills the air,
The petals bloom, untouched by despair.
But time moves swiftly, as it always will,
And the supple must learn to be still.

As the days pass and summer's heat grows,
The petal's silk matures, as does the sun's golden glow.
A wrinkle here, a line there, etched upon the face,
A map of memories, a testament to the grace

And as the leaves turn and autumn arrives,
The supple smoothness now wears and thrives.

Watching the Planes Go By In An Open Field

watching the planes go by in an open field
a glass of cherry apple cider in my left hand
my thoughts are on nothing
life is on hiatus in my mind
i have a week off
it feeling awfully good doing nothing
i am wishing that she was here, but she chose him
now i am joined by her, and her smile matures me so as she takes it all in
in her right hand, i bottle of water, blueberry flavored
her head is rested on my shoulder
her hand is relaxed and intertwined in mine
i am fully awakened as is her
another planes goes by
elvis costello writes the book everyday as we give a new beginning another look
as of now, this chapter requires no bookmark
a sweet, fruit tinged kiss, i believe, is mandatory
life is a grassy magic carpet ride dream come true

The Heathland Provides

The heady scent
Changing through the seasons. 
As spring is no longer embryonic 
It’s adolescence showing through. 
Swathes of yellow 
Popping buds and seed pods as the sun hits,
An audible accompaniment 
To the visual spectacle. 
Each year I walk
Through the forest fringes
Heathland meets dense wood
And each time when the scent hits
Initially for that year
My mind is transported. 
To lazy hot summer days, 
Beaches far away. 
Sun glistening on caramel skin
All triggered by the scent. 
The gorse fills the air with coconut,
The telltale sun cream aroma,
A reminder of days gone by, 
Summer to come
Sweet blossoms heavy with nectar
Ambrosia to nourish the beasts
Dwelling in the margins of the forest. 
And as the Beltane passes,
Air filled with smoke from 
A nonet of timbers
Taking us into the summers dawning,
The fresh yellow darkens, 
The scent matures 
No longer coconut richness
And once again the spring has retreated
Time advancing on toward the hazy days.

I Died

As blaze of August fades into the Fall
horizons new have burned and turned to ash
and textures of the change of seasons clash,
a plague of frost becomes a rose’s pall.
The supple smooth confronts the brittle break 
as petals silk matures a wrinkled skin
and winter’s snow to bury sins begin —
a fallen cloud the shroud for briar’s wake.

The days of glory sun and ruby rays,
across the skies, these hues were once my own,
beneath the blue above the green, my fling...
dressed not but strands of dew in solstice haze.
When youth was sown my roots were honed in stone —
I died… but I will rise again in Spring!

Said Aloud

From at to eye imagination alights and explodes.In another's minds eye..matures,excites,ignites..impregnates,conceives..birthes a new creative impulse.

the melodic effect
this beauty of sound..
stays upon the ear

Married Chai Elevating 18

Sunflower is the petal symbol,
Big round face follows the sun,
Signifies Honesty as a yellow cymbal,
Light in Truth sets free one,
Sheds light on fidelity, living loyal,
As 18 is coming of age, Love matures Hon!
18, the Chinese hold to be “prosperal”,
Past attempts weighed only a gram,
Will now weigh a ton, flourish neural!
Garnet does as 18’s stone,
Balanced intimacy levelly sensual,
Beyond a crush has attraction grown,
Giving, doing became mutual, sharing natural,
In the words of Judy Garland:
“Not in my ears, but in my heart, you whisper”,
“Not my lips, but my soul, you kissed!”
Sunflowers are drought resistant,
Reigns reciprocal kindness are dropping Rains!

My Poetry Passport

Since I was blessed to land here,
One matures…….as a young deer.
To be popular, is not my desire.
But to grow in desire, for poetry’s fire.
To be above all, graced with humility.
Do I try new forms in a mad frenzy?
For me, that simply…is not my style.
Truth, beauty, but never high profile!
The rain kisses the earth, as I now write.
Unable to pen of matters, rude or too trite.


12/2/2022

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