In the evenings twilight gloaming
daytime changelings cease their roaming
place acorn hats upon their heads
lay down in hidden feather beds.
Some sleep while others shake in fear
as blackness comes so ever near,
and beasties you should never see
will search the night for me and thee.
Strange sounds break silence of the night
as darkness takes away your sight.
Scuffles, howls, a sickening moan;
echoes that chill you to the bone.
When, if you sleep, they stay with you
they live within you through and through;
the beasties you should never see
who search the night for me and thee.
The cockcrow is some distance yet
more demons you have not yet met.
Night seems much longer than a day;
that moment when the changelings play.
Is that the creaking of the stairs?
You quickly say your hasty prayers
that beasties you should never see
don’t search the night for me and thee.
That man stirs before the sun, dashing hopefulness,
Hopefulness that his son will grow, not just mature,
Mature into a man, who lugs his name,
Name engraved in sweat, not pursuing eminence.
Eminence never suckled the ardor of his soreness,
Soreness from scuffles tussled in quietness and pain,
Pain he credited so his child treasures concord,
Concord cleared through hurricanes, never ephemeral.
Ephemeral is the joy, but enduring is love,
Love that drains through detriment and scabs,
Scabs that murmur, “I bequeathed all I ensured,”
Ensured bravery enough to silhouette the celebrities.
Poem by Mugisho N.
All aboard the bizarre Farage barge..
Unless of course you are from abroad..
.
Narcissist catalyst.. old school fraud..discord twist..
Can't resist.. staging the raging red mist..
Fist of Mob rule tryst does persist..
Depraved raves..insist..craved faves..
Won't save slaves & knaves..
Hellbent they are sent..
To graves under the waves…
Foolish votes for ghoulish gloats..
Seedier media leaders lying..
Defying the dying..
Folks crying..ghastly ghostly boats..
Crude jokes delude..lewd masterstrokes denude..
Corporate rascal castle debacle floats..
On dank murky murderous moats..
Scuffles.. muffles ruffles & kerfuffles
Pokes & provokes just for bank notes..
The ubiquity of inequity
This poem or tome..
Every face…race should be.
Free to roam..
In this place..
We all call home..
Splendor and wind
Like a finger of quicksand
Struggle of years.
He shoulders his heavy mind,
hunched under a dripping umbrella
of anxieties.
Dogs avoid the puddles he makes,
minor ponds of sniffs and scuffles
that he takes with him always.
He has a pocket handkerchief
that blows his nose
when the laden air
plunders his sinus's.
His has become allergic
to himself.
Quite by chance
a new airy broom
sweeps away
the damp clogging's
of his fusty brain.
Polar bears appear
within his inner eye,
they bring oranges from Florida,
fruits that will not ripen
in his own dark and crusty world.
Folding the black saucer
of his umbrella,
he un-puckers his brow.
Head-up, he side-steps.
his musty mood.
Poodles and pugs
play in the pools of his former
bothersome drippings.
Would you take a chance with coarse anomy:
A folk with dreams like yours tag an enemy?
A partaker does hurt vibrant economy,
Dropped farms for power: Poorest Agronomy…
Rivals to get rid of with shameful hustles,
Paid full cash silencers who love their rustles:
I’ve long learnt to think of all power tussles
As “For the wrong reasons flexing one’s muscles.”
On the African scene badly burnt car,
Owner politician with its rude scar,
Life savers much afraid he would not go far.
“They might finish him off in some lone bar!”
Times it meant with cash, asking that one step down
But mostly with weapons to forget The Crown,
Bizarre shoot-outs and scuffles in a calm town,
In the end wasting Senators Charles and Brown…
Stark evidence one can’t targets deliver,
His subjects to meet with enclosing river;
One would only be worsening the fever:
The merely interested in Gold and Silver…
Yes, not at all times take one to the Tower,
Sometimes, hands one over to Grave with flower;
From oneself one takes away easeful hour,
A crazy idea: one hour in bower..
Like games greatly checked by youth-crushing age;
One shouldn’t in one’s seventies open the page.
Such silence in the morning hours
Soft azure skies, clouds white and fluffy
Crows, the family three
Have taken over the shed
The trees the fence
Claiming it as their own
Their caws and hisses
Scuffles with the squirrels
Blacks and grays, beauties all
Hence my animal sanctuary
Doctors and nurses and surgeons
My life a medical museum
Yet there are moments
Between apps and tax rumbles
Attempts to pull me back into
The era before the surgeries,
And life struggles, there are moments
When we remember other times
With hopes and wishes that
Although it won’t be the same
Through the struggles and the pains
Yes something is lost
But truly there is something retained
For Valentines bring all the wishes
Of thoughtful love and kisses.
Walking in the cold void,
Armies retreating in paranoid...
Families living in pride,
Flag honouring the patriotic souls...
Medals of honour for the call of duty.
Cold War marking the momentum,
Pearl harbour in the backdrop...
World War warning the after war...
Soldiers abandoning their rifles,
Survivors muffle the scuffles...
United Nations hoisting peace,
United we are,
Undrawn the divisions...
It really was quite a kerfuffle
And a series of violent scuffles
I kept wrestling a pig
But he grew much too big
So instead we went searching for truffles
Let us find time and space, my love, where you and I
Fly high, try never again to cry
No matter what flak circumstances try
To lumber on us
When feelings blow hot on the bus
Where for your sake and mine we vow never again to fuss
Over trifles
Emanating from tongue-waggers’ rifles
Caught up in needless scuffles
Which needn’t you and I worry
Harass, embarrass or harry
Regardless of whether the sorrow celery
Lost on unknown streets
Where spooks to discourage you and I send meaningless tweets
Sugar-coated with savoury sweets
Your mouth and mine consider in bad taste
Whether in slow motion or in a haste
Determining to beat down our chest
As we determine to make a sudden leap
Forward to awaken from the sleep
Where from world troubles away we keep
Enmeshing our loving hands
As we surge forth to promised lands
Where our love summersaults on bliss sands.
His full name was Bern Bernard
He was an imposing bodyguard
From a few scuffles he was scarred
But nothing serious in that regard
Walking down the boulevard
Showing off his business card
He also moonlighted as a lifeguard
You’d be safe in the pool or yard
You couldn’t help but love Bernard
He was the most proficient bodyguard
Any fear he could effortlessly discard
Have any troublemakers easily disbarred
AP: 2nd place 2020
When I first awake, I am a complete emotional blur,
unprepared for the day rhythm about to occur.
Before day unfolds, I need release trials my wake holds.
Being still, I focus until suppliant, in quiet, ever reliant.
In meditation, I block all false traps; with eyes shut,
palms up on lap, my breath grows a bright, loving light
and a beautiful, shiny white box comes into sight.
All not of truth ideal, goes in box, until concealed.
One by one, as I feel the light beam as a prayer,
all my concerns, each trouble and every care,
goes inside the glossy box until all is ensnared.
I see a lid placed and ribbons tied with flair.
Then I view loving, beautiful hands descend,
hands of more love than I can comprehend,
to take the box of my troubles and struggles
up, up and away to handle and favorably mend.
All I held is now heaven released and earth crumbled.
My peace now doubled, I am centered in joyous ways
and ready for the new day of tumbles and scuffles
to meet the joy in my smile and ease in my muscles.
... CayCay Jennings
January 1, 2018
Aroused with head of hair. O grizzly bear!
Awake! As fangs do sink into my neck.
Reward, if you...O king, my life will spare.
I gnaw my nails, depressed...for i’m a wreck.
Do you, O beast hear buzzing...wink. Oh honey!
You hear the slap of salmon steak, I think?!
For you the fields of sticky gold, like money,
And hallowed fish - right there! Look there! (I blink)
He scuffles off in search of prey. I hurry!
Make tracks before he snatches me for snack.
My tent long gone. I sigh. I see a flurry.
I’d like to catch a break. Just then...a smack.
Those lips are huge, the tongue so cruel. I growl.
Bereft, I sit within the creature’s bowel.
11/4/2017
Brian Strand Contest #360
Complete verse incomplete vase
Lines said in prose turn empty
Heart-rooted intimacy in souls n'er trace
Lava-hot enemity sprouts within
Serenades that exalted the misty spring air
Sweet nothings whispered in the crimson cottage
Bloody scuffles wreak lives n'er bear
wreak bone-hard bond like titanic sea goer
His half drowsing floody eyes stuck in space
In the twilight crisp evening valley wind
Thinking of the enchated dulcet past life phase
that perhaps he wishes to live once again
For their life swirls in a sea-deepnightmare
all they implore are the infallible cult deities
And the mink duvet is all they share
There is small garden fertile and proud
behind a big rolling hill situated
animals passing there in adventure
go head on against each other all times
Foxes fight each other with no mercy
dogs chase and scatter old and young cats
chickens have it with grasshoppers daily
bitterness make the garden barren and bare
Whenever there is season of inactivity
witch weeds grow in hurry luxuriantly
black jack covers the garden in hurry
thorny weeds lay in ambush for stray feet
But what grows after these scuffles
shock the crops that the farmer grows
the farmer worries and prays for luck
but the animals do not listen any way
The lone farmer’s war-torn garden shames
but it is his garden he cherishes
what to do but own up to all the mess
probably one time the war will subside
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