"Poetry comes from the highest happiness or the deepest sorrow" -- AP J Abdul
Poetry in it pure gold medallion well refined is choice
Forced on individuals based on circumstances that paint emotional influence
Where its affluence set out the pale ink a voice
And with accurate battle with the mind troubled cent congruence
To bless thy grace that peel off the time's invoice
Poetry is the view that capture wonderful clash with flashlight
Its lyrics are girls' auto tunes that ease her plight
Of beckoned scenario captured for memory lingers on vital reference
Its referents pour out a layout well planned sketch preference
Poets reflect on its life's tempos when he had alight
I hear this voice inside my head
Repeating thoughts of how I should be dead
Emotions entangled in a web of pain
Can’t take it anymore I’m going insane
Scratching till I peel off all my skin
The itch of defeat will I ever win
My body’s broken souls starting to decay
Looking for a way out but I can’t seem to find a way
Want to scream but I can’t make a sound
Delusion of my own making so lost I’m never found
Trying to extinguish the burning embers of my rage
My life stories already gone so I can’t turn the page
I want to stand on the black scalp of Pico do Fogo,
Where the earth smokes cigarettes with the sky.
Not for the view,
but for the vibration;
To feel the heat that cooked my grandfather’s name.
They say the vines there drink ash instead of water,
Birthing a wine that tastes like sulfur and secrets.
I need to peel off my clothes, my degrees, my Spanish,
And lay naked on that dark, magnetic grit,
Until the iron in the soil speaks to the iron in my blood.
Cape Verde is not just islands;
it is punctuation In the middle of the Atlantic sentence.
I must go where the ground is still being born,
To remind my skin that we are both volcanic,
Both waiting to erupt, both beautiful in the burn.
I stand on day's brink
beyond lullabies in dusk—
their echoes replaced
with budding flower questions
thriving in uncertainty
I pound the ground hard
fury rages in my chest—
why must I still wait
my voice shatters quiet skies
demanding I get replies
walls are barriers
denying my restless pleas
rules drawn, then erased—
I force doors that creak ajar
then slam shut to cage me in
I hear laughter sting
in cruel misconceptions
warmth turns into burns—
love does not embrace my reach
as my cries go unheeded
I peel off more skin
stepping into searing light—
trembling but aware
that the world out there won't bend
as it cuts and shapes my growth
the seed stirs in me
fierce, urgent, blazing, alive,
pushing through the soil—
each surge sculpts my core and frame
so I become who I am
How many layers should you peel off an onion?
I often stomp in the salad
yes, until it is inedible
In confidence _ to risk
Trust must always lie with the bottom up
The gears are spinning
Call me naive
I believe ... until proven otherwise
My mother's hands are dove wings, gently caressing my cheek,
"My beautiful girl," she whispers, and her words peel off me like dead skin,
How dare she love this shell, this body that bears the burden of shadows?
How dare she kneel in my ruins, planting flowers where only thorns can grow?
I wish to open my ribs, to show her the nest of spiders inside,
"See? This is what you embrace," I'd say, as she looks with gentle eyes,
But she, with her unsettling tenderness, manages to see beyond the darkness,
She sees a field of daisies where I see only barren and cold earth.
In my heart, spiders weave tales of long ago, yet she hears only songs,
In my heart, shadows dance, but she sees only the light sneaking through the cracks,
Her hands, dove wings, wipe away my fear and pain in a ritual of rebirth,
She dares to love, and her love becomes the garden where I begin to grow again.
Let my heart flood thee with my words
I can’t fight the war of love
But i can search your soul for romantic moments
I know no words of sincerity but over the years lovers have turned fouls
I am yet see you waiting for me with coffee
But let that day be tonight
Let us yield in love and peel off this mask of fear in us
Tonight let me kiss your lips
Let me embrace your chest in my arms
Let me separate your legs all night long
Let’s not sleep together but lets make love
Please bear me my cubs out of your womb
Remember out of love must they be born
Tonight let your phone warm up to my call
But please let me rejoice in your towers of sweetness
Last weekend i couldn’t connect to your heart due to network
Please do not turn me away again
Chui munga the poet
Scrape away, at a life. You just weren’t given any real instructions –
so, you scrape like a carpenter
at grey washed walls, wanting
to peel off old paint – old memories,
in your head you scrap away
the talk back – that little
squirrel inside the trunk of your head
it scrapes.
You scrape and scream, you scrape and
feel the muscle of your right hand
figure the page into
something. You scrape
days and trash them. Who
will find them? Who cares that you scrape
while in labor? scrape every morning you wake –
scrape on body, scrape on heart, scrape on this
bloody life
until you just can’t scrape –
Mother's thinking
Like shrimp peeled
Off chili cells.
Mother's also
Peel off chili
Aft giving birth.
Aft mother's birth
Pregnant mother
Will bloom again.
True joy is back
Aft mother's birth
Home whole again.
Start journey quest now where love shows,
Stride with calm poise shrewd path of fate;
Feel touch fling zest in sublime flow,
By your own choice greet lavish state.
Learn how to glide as act funds proof,
Match your fine grip to charm lots more;
Peel off vain pride to see plain truth,
Glimpse that fond trip from mortal shores.
Watch the wind blow taut misty lease,
Be on the way of mystic feel;
Sense touch you know with heart at ease,
Cause crafts deep play of apt goodwill.
Exult true gains karma consorts,
Embrace hard pains that love retorts.
A silent storm rages on in my head
winds whisking into a symbolic swirl.
Though all alone, I lie here in my bed
spinning wound up words twisted till they twirl.
Peel off outer layers, see deep inside
emotive notions, stringy streaks in strips.
Peer into that space where one cannot hide -
stealth secrets shredded into bits of blips.
Joyfulness whistles by too quick to snatch
pondering the trip to the Pearly Gate.
Calmness lies so still, way too low to catch
crawling, creaking under this heavy weight.
These tortured torrents that may make me miss -
once settled down they turn to inner bliss.
102 words 14 lines Sonnet 2024
for you i am whatever you want me to be.
i would morph myself into a butterfly if that's what you want.
i would peel off this skin i already possess and sew on a new one.
i would forage in the forest for wings and attach them to my back.
is that what you want?
have i been a caterpillar for too long?
We were bobbing on the ocean in our tiny pea green boat
The pussycat, the owl and me were many days afloat
With hunger in the belly and a dryness in the throat
The owl winked at the pussycat and said lets take a vote
The owl then looked at me and said we do not mean to gloat
But pussycat and I agree that lunch today is Stoat
Feel free to take a moment to leave those you love a note
And then we’ll make it really quick when we peel off your coat
I told them that the story goes that they wont meet a goat
A turkey and a pig, I said, will come along as wrote
That pig will take a shilling or perhaps a measly groat
To help you cook the turkey which will make our tummies bloat
That’s the version of this tale I wish I could promote
The chances of it going that way were, it seems, remote
For no stoat gets a mention, not in paraphrase nor quote
And so it seems that poor old me got well and truly smote
Means you walk with a mute dignity
And because the touch has a memory, you can no longer make another one,
No sea can reveal to you the joy of its flowing and its every wave is shackled with corpses and identities of drowned people, no land will welcome your shy steps.
To be a refugee
You have to wear a stainless smile in front of their serrated gaze.
You have to get rid of your ancient history,
Your mother's prayer for your safety, which no longer works
The wisdom of your ancestors, which they left to you before they disappeared into their graves.
To be like me,
You have to peel off your skin, pull out your tongue in order to get along with the crowds that are waiting for any slight movement from you to finish you off.
Above you have to be very sane in the streets that know nothing but where madness erupts,
And like swimming in a river of blood, you will remain stained until the end.
At the time, just around twilight
When it’s neither dark nor light
For some profound thoughts to reflect
Snub evil ideas that infect the intellect
Wrap around you a swathe of silence
Peel off layers from your conscience
Where there’s no sense of shame or regret
Feeling neither guilt nor in despair, fret,
Find a purpose in the labyrinth of the mind
How vast our wants, our thoughts how blind,
Disallow all that your teachings suggest
The way to Nirvana within yourself did rest.
~09/09/22
~Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol. 32
~Sponsor: Edward Ibeh.
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