My bestie friend has gone away
taken away that faithful day
I can't believe you are really gone
why you go and left me alone
I guess it was time according to God
I cannot shake this oh my God
I just saw you not that long ago
that faithful day you were alone
I feel so lost I dont believe it
I cant even go to see your mother
if I do I know I will cry
I dont want her to see the redness in my eyes
Its been two years I still feel sorrow
Im so lost and wish I could borrow
the strength of someone stronger then me
As I write this I still hope you will remember me
Until that day I will see you around
push the last of the dirt from the ground
one last breathe
one last tear
I miss you my friend
especially when Im still here
Put me to sleep, O little god,
spirit of the ancient, healing tree—
a beautiful rustling brewing within the ancestors' plant,
emerging from captivating redness.
Invisible as a shadow, leaving only gleaming, shining bones behind,
the unseen one remains hidden from my eyes.
Yet, it is a tree of lush, vibrant green,
fragrant and sweet-smelling, bearing soft flowers and a hidden thorn.
Your humming sound—a silencing rustle in the night,
in the deep gloom, in the gathering dark—
becomes a dirge for the dead, a hymn of my final rest.
With windows wide open on every side,
I am dangerous and lost,
without origin or protection,
I am weeping,
unveiling a pain of finding the courage
to sleep facing the solitude rather than
hiding from it
The pulsing redness of the dying sun,
Began to prevail into nothingness.
Yet all around the promenade
Bright lights shone from the business venue.
They sat on a bench, close, whispering sweet nothings.
The night was young, and they had much to say.
Would they wait for dawn?
Lights shimmer on the quiet sea,
like drifting dreams that never fade away.
She was tired and rested her head
On his shoulder as he held her close.
Then things began to shift.
Around the bay, bulbs were now in full light
The brass band began to blare.
Everyone was happily singing.
And in the depth of the bay
Fireworks cracked upwards
Sending sparkling stars above
It is a journey of excellent exhibition.
The two lovers stood up hand in hand.
And began their walk far from the crowd
Towards the quiet, where the moon had arisen.
A lovely red moon that was their wonder,
My inspiration often carries me.
To that fantastic ethereal world
Wherein immaculate beings I see
Where peace and serenity are unfurled.
Faith and hope flow there like rivers in flood.
Love hovers like the stars of the galaxies.
Compassion dwells like redness in the blood.
Holiness rings loud like waves of the seas.
With Cherubim, seraphim, and angels
Firmaments shine as though a million suns
Grace and grandeur ring out into hymnals.
I feel one with the souls of my loved ones.
Crises of my existence gently cease.
Rid of pains, I enjoy the divine peace...
there is a shine to the window way up high
I scoot up there to watch the sky
It’s gray today, and wind is playing the trees
I watch large limbs waving in the breeze
The grass is verdant, so marvelously green
I hear some voices, the people unseen
I raise the window to better hear
the neighbors, whose voices are most clear
My flowers look pretty, especially the lily
An upside-down statue looks pretty silly
rain hits me in the face as it starts to sprinkle
the asphalt driveway has nary a wrinkle
from safety of this window, I preview my land
redness of cardinal reminds me tomatoes need canned
There is a smell of summer brought inside through this square
A portal to the outside, honest, lovely, and fair.
I seek deep truth at half past-twelve,
But find it hiding in the skokiaan again. (1)
IDA sighs again,'' know thy ale''. (3)
Phuza Face orders a second pail (2)
By dawn I've solved life's mystery grim
Its mostly froth with little brim.
So drink Majwalis,and think no more. (4)
The mind's a map,the heart
Explanation of a Pub Crawler's Philosophical terms and names
Skokiaan-an illicit home-brewed alcoholic drink made from yeast,sugar and water.Usually its consumption leads to loss of wallet,teeth,wife and kids.Devotees are especially not fond of water and general cleanliness.A nice smell
IDA- means I Drink All.This is said by someone who never buys you drink/alcohol.
Phuza Face- is a colloquial term for the physical effects of heavy or long term drinking resulting in which leads to swelling,puffiness,redness of the face,dark circles under the eyes.
Majwalis-He who is devotee of alcohol and alcoholism who drink himself to death and beyond.Usually a cheque collector. Has a phobia of not reporting for duty on Monday and Friday.
You look like a Viking
Or like a Greek god
Not my usual type
It’s actually kind of odd
You’re masculine and kind
Like yin and yang combined
Sound body, sound mind
Just a man so refined
You have a sweet smile
And a great sense of style
Gonna think about it awhile
As I melt into this pile
And when I hear you speak
Of course it makes me weak
I follow the sound of your voice
Now there’s redness in my cheeks
I block out the noise
And I try to stay poised
But I crash and burn
When will I learn?
You’re crafted like a work of art
An inspiration from the start
Whenever you’re near or we’re apart
Thoughts of you whisper to my heart
I want to tell you how I feel
But you’re not mine for me to steal
Your heart belongs to someone else
You’re under another lover’s spell
There’s nothing I can do but pout
She’s a lucky girl without a doubt
I can’t ever say these thoughts aloud
So I’ll just lay here dreaming on my cloud
Mount Fuji, waking,
Lifting on girdling pink cloud
In early dawning,
Casts its slopes and snowcapped peak
On flat mirroring water.
-------------------------------------
Fuji; slow sunrise.
Then a sea of blazing cloud
Sets the hills aflame!
Crowding onto a shoreline:-
Hosts of purple lavender.
-------------------------------------
Fuji in Moonshine;
Floating cranberries, amassed,
Shiver in cold light.
Ruby redness contrasting
Against crystaline night sky.
Dear Tom
If I had the courage to speak from the heart
Ladybirds of redness would sing from
It.
I imagined my pain was of your making
But it was only the making of life.
Now I'm alive like a ladybug.
Still small but making my way bravely
Forward and backward and forward again.
Now more smoothly and flying at times.
Dear Tom
If I could speak from my heart
I'd say
Nails have been stuck in my chest
After you left.
I cared about each one of your steps
I could not witness you make.
It was the kind of loving I wanted for myself.
Dear Tom.
Your silence is empty like a heart that's
Been shut -
But I give myself to it and I'm full of it
Now.
I call things for what they are
Too. Do you hear ?
Cause shying away from the heart
Keeps it shut.
Dear Tom
I imagined you could be my home but
This was my bad.
Like I could have owned your being and
Fill it with mine.
That's not loving, that's owning.
Colonising. I retract.
Dear Tom,
I honour your spirit.
May it be freer and freer
With each day like a ladybug
That flies it's own
Own
Own way.
The razor;
It slipped
Leading to
Unexpected consequences.
The redness
Splashed and spread,
Splashed and spread.
I walked into a room and did not know it well
yet, feel I should, for I have been there many times,
not a liminal space, though sometimes this is so.
But this time, oddly, somewhere I should know and be.
Should I recognize those strange eyes that gape at us?
Some duty that I should as duty stares at me.
Yet I know them not, nor the paintings in the hall.
The not familiar couch where lovers once had lain,
its crimson redness gash against the dreary walls.
Was this with you, or in some other life I had?
Are you even here or I? Truth, I do not know.
Christmas is a long song sung in winter,
An epic poem written with white quill feather pen and
Gold ink, and on clouds of paper,
Beginning from a sneezing December to a
Dizzying twelfth-calendar month,
When snow drizzles gently into the souls of
Those who hearken to the tinkling sound of
The church bell which rings gently with the weight of
The slow-passing season.
I see whiteness in every song, with so much redness;
Regal and romantic; flagrantly friendly.
Oh, how pure!
Oh, how sweet!
Well, that’s Christmas.
It lights up the courage in us to think right and assume
Merriment in the warmness of some frozen hearts.
It’s the best time of the year.
I swear to this because I am a child of Christmas.
It’s a time of fog and dew and sleet that rebaptise us.
Let’s not forget the slanting rain whose liquid kisses us.
And white Christmas of snow-carpeted lands and seas.
There’s no other time or season like it.
So full of gentleness and love,
Christmas causes hearts to race s-l-o-w-l-y,
As the year races on to breast the tape of seasons.
Animals Poetry Contest
Constance La France
Snowball painted my life with all hearts
He would fill our canvas with his love
For twelve years we played our parts
Like two little angels from above
That were married like a ball to a glove
How a little Maltese captivated me
He was so faithful, sincere, and true
He would jump onto my lap and knee
And scamper to my sock and shoe
Nose sniffing my body through and through
He loved to play outside in the yard
We played, danced, and skipped to his treats
Yet his eyes would always be on guard
Barking at the passersby off the streets
And lapping at the sparrow's tweets
Twelve years we lived like husband and wife
The paintbrush of life rolling with the days
It was the happiest time of my life
Until the sun kneeled down in a blaze
I yelled, saw redness, and cried as he lays
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
Bones stripped bare of flesh by ravenous ants,
In each of the souls, peace was much in dearth,
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
That's what wars do, even before my birth.
We humans have brains, yet behave like plants.
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
Bones stripped bare of flesh by ravenous ants.
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
In each of the souls, peace was much in dearth,
That's what wars do, even before my birth.
We humans have brains, yet behave like plants,
Bones stripped bare of flesh by ravenous ants.
With all peace talks drowned by hordes of war chants.
Shades of Red
The red spectrum of people,
Like a beautiful butterfly,
Fluttering across the sky,
Looking for a bloomed flower.
Shades of Red traverse the landscape,
Like freshly turned fall leaves,
Bright luminosity of red,
And the redness covers the whole tree.
In the spring time,
We wait on Red Tulips,
They open like a seasonal door,
A period of renew is in-store.
Shades of Red covers life,
Across the ground you see,
The remnants of red flashing,
Poking the eyes of thee.
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