Contrition for the recorded events of frugalities.
So abstemious have I been, thriving largely in
Defenceless glares of the four-eyed.
Now I have learned to creep alone and weep alone,
Closing tacitly the chapters written in mundane ink,
Reluming the smouldering logs of long slumber.
I have told every truth in loud moments
Now I have only but few lies in my saliva
And I intend puking the remaining few . . .
The pulp and the reed among the wayside waters
Must have tilted in the direction of their winds.
Bloated and deflated, this ego of worth, crimson
With the bath of birth.
Rebirth, woven in colourful Renaissance yarn, has awoken
The drunken somnambulist
The pipers come piping hot, and the stolen trumpet,
Hidden in the soft crests of wisteria,
Alerts the souls of the roosts.
I crave the creation formula of the Sixth Day.
The sage among us have broken many books
And licked many paintings —surrealism —in the
Image of the contorted face, writhing in the throes of
Elevated glances shelved in the mirror-images of Knowledge.
Could there be comeuppance for inquiring into the deep?
It's a lovely sun-drenched day of clouds and blue sky,
Giving such a beautiful vista on which I gaze.
Two sparrows dancing at opposite roosts catch my eye,
On a large branch in the huge maple at center stage
Distant bells ring out in the distance a melodic peal,
Accompanying the movement of leaves in the breeze.
I see a twin-tower temple with sweet images to reveal,
With such quiet grace it sets troubled minds at ease.
I muse of a sanctuary of inner warmth and grace,
With a scent of roses urging me to follow my nose.
Drawn as by the sensuous smile on a woman’s face,
I begin to presume how the rest of the story goes.
Woman indeed is so wisely and nobly endowed,
Between the pillars of her calling in awesomeness.
She remains her openly receptive self and still proud,
Showing me haven where my weary soul finds rest.
Together we dream of a garden of hope and love,
Living within the comforts of shared pleasure.
As I drink the nectar that showers from above,
I conceived of a supreme realm for all to treasure.
Sonnet
From far, back I have come
To their surprise, I brought a dove,
Happy they were, everyone at home,
And a nest they weaved for her, what a love!
My brother, a smith, made her a golden ring.
Love and compassion led her out of bond
To the sky she soars up — her song to sing.
Between us no frictional touch, but fine fond;
In her crops-pasturing afoot she walks,
While our eyes tendering on her steps, lest treading a hook
For we all feel unease to a cause she crawls,
And our heart pounds to the eagle nasty look;
Always she roosts in her nest to avoid the rain,
And when get wet, in the sun she stands to drain.
©® Muhammad Abdulhamid Kumo
April, 2024
#SpringHearted
#AlaSuperQuote
Few people there were,
the day was slipping gently
into rising pools of twilight.
Passing city lights
winked
behand stands of trees.
Here is a family of walkers,
how like birds they appear?
Their young, sleepily following,
tethered by feathers of light
in the silent dark.
Over there, a little apart,
birdlike,
a man and his spouse talk in low tones
their words peck unheard.
We are all here,
speaking between the light and its shadows.
Aware of each other we are,
like the sky is aware of the earth
when evening roosts
among all the nesting thoughts
collected that day.
The immaterial has been gathered in,
arranged,
we now settle as one,
only to fly away into another day.
After the greedily laden cirrus' lighten their loads,
a dog day returns to our suburban sanctuary.
As the mercury ascends like a climber captured in a glass tube,
the heath's heady aromas revoke our remorse.
Tangled brier and spiky scrub emit their balm:
a conspicuously redolent cocktail of coconut and cabbage.
Backlit baubles of liquid sunshine dazzle the view,
while defying gravity on their barbed roosts.
Suspended above the sodden, verdant heath, like an ethereal spirit,
another cloud hangs low, as if a subterranean lava lake -
once dormant - has been aroused from its viscous langour.
The transient torrent which incited the tribes to take refuge -
now passed - invites its flock to flood back onto the pasture.
I soar from the embers of the life
coincidences
grasping the ladle of passion
in my exact part
a butterfly roosts to my left
ponder on the shrubs
that lives in me
what do they ever emulate
lost paired on havoc, they
keep me mellow
nagging sensations
traverse the deepness
of love and pain
fantastic mates
life dwells below
your carapace quality
Written: September 28, 2022
Thinking in the,
Absence of silence.
A droplet of ink,
Can make millions think
Thinking in the
Absence of this silence.
Silence is being answered,
From questions that have
Never asked?
It is silence,
You do get
Pearls of Wisdom
Thickens, be it said.
Don't plan on being helped,
For help has gone silent
When this book, sitting here
On the shelf, silenced.
Silences, be it that,
Standish one
Instead, be the laid-back one
Make some history.
I am writing his words,
Doing what he does.
Takes one last glance at,
The silence around the room
Silenced is his, he roosts.
A commotion in the heart
like a strong gust of wind!
A tingling sensation in the heart,
as if current flown through veins..
My dreams seems flying high,
Like Dry leaves and straws in the sky,
The playful mind sparrows run,
far away from their roosts!
Collect vapors from all over the world,
Like the many secrets of heart,
Thundering the frightened cloud
as if the heart was beating fast!
Running here n there in panic,
in search of peace!
Found soothing breeze on the way,
Like a saint messenger of peace!
The secret that was hidden for years
All turned into water.
Drops of rain sprinkled, like tears fell from the cheeks...
The chaos has calmed down now,
the anxiety of mind has gone away ...
The secrets that rained down like drops
the panic of the clouds went away...
This sky is empty of straws,
many "leaves" are scattered on the roads...
Wiping Glitterring sweat, sparrows utterred
this rain has brought some “coolness"though...
Seagulls gliding o'er the pier,
Their raucous cries caught in the wind.
They duck and dive without fear,
To snatch a fish as they descend,
While anglers to their lines attend.
The pungent essence of the sea,
Inundates the atmosphere,
And sand kicked up by briny breeze,
Stings and causes eyes to tear,
But sun is shining and sky is clear.
A pelican roosts on a wooden post,
Napping lazily in the sun,
While children collect shells and boast,
Of which of them found the prettiest one.
A perfect day for having fun.
4/7/21
Rooster ~
Pecks the dust, raising
Particles, pebbles
Earth.
Hen ~
Comes around
Roosts with him.
Paint a Picture Poetry Contest (7 lines)
Sponsor: Joseph May
September 22, 2020
upon each moment
roosts a peacock- fully fanned
veiled from trite peruse
as keen eyes pause and ponder
the faint outline of feathers
Let us sit at the table and enjoy a big feast
for I have baked the apple pie without yeast
I sang to the turkey and now he feels fine
so go ahead, uncork a bottle of ruddling wine
Give thanks with a grateful heart then eat
with gratitude & thankfulness, its all meat
except for the mash potatoes and the cranberry
its all pagan, this poor bird wil never drink sherry
If you see a bee in my season bonnet its because
I happen to love turkeys, with a whole lot of fuzz
I will not shine for you for sadly here he roosts
on a silver platter as we celebrate and boost
If you feel a little sluggish after the big fat meal
think of the pride that you plucked from his steel
once upon a time that old bird was a clucking
now he just sits and doesn't know a single thing
I'm not laying the guilt trip but all I say is this ,
the least you can do is give him a big kiss
So on Thanksgiving don't bow your head in vain
if you don't give thanks, then thats a crying shame !
Brooding atop a cracked stone cross,
the raven roosts in solitude...
Ivory remnants of former souls
drift restlessly beneath unkempt black soil,
But the bird is their remorseful conqueror,
And the skeletons can only emit wails and mutters
From their detaining graves...
Ghastly fog slinks between the kingdom of tombstones,
And the raven mourns for Death’s victims,
the decaying phantoms that
wander so endlessly,
on and on and on…
He lies in contrition for his own occupation,
for his own lost spirit,
conjoined so closely with those
lurking underneath his talons.
Early morning,
new, deep, snow
sunlit in the Garden,
covering the lonely woods.
Suddenly descending,
a mourning dove flutters,
roosts in the Tree.
There in a mere few moments:
another mourning dove returning,
perching, restless, cooing:
Cold, heedless solitude
sloughed off,
like the needless snow
the doves shake from their feathers.
SUNRISE
and
SUNSET
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunrises, sometimes you never see them, their
colours, red, pink, that magic in the sky.
Reasons, clouds, the sight of sunrises do blur!
Oft sat and pondered why the colours, why?
The day, done, sun it sets, oft it blushes!
As it sinks it kisses the day goodbye.
Photogenic, its hues, my mind touches
Silhouettes birds as to their roosts they fly.
My pondering deduced pollution, sad!
Consolation their beauty, well a tad!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2/15/18
SUNRISE and SUNSET poetry contest, sponsored by Silent One
Sunrise and sunset - Poetry Contest
Sub Categories
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