Short Discomforts Poems

After long wait
two seasons of
three months wait
oceans sent us rain,
oh! It has started to rain

amidst uprooted trees
power outrage
discomforts minor
my May flower tree
bloomed this May

hope smiled in me
my heart is happy
it is a message 
from mother nature
we can still revert changes.
...

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summer leaves
turn golden and red
colorful
foliage
winter haters always dread
wearing longer sleeves

fall colors
smell of burning leaves
allergies
flaring up
watery eyes and noses
not beds of roses

holidays
relieve discomforts
Halloween
Thanksgiving
families get together
birds of a feather 

Written September 6, 2022...

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THE SOUND OF THE GUN
Sounds like a baby thunder 
But the blast discomforts the ears
And terrifies the spirit of man
Suddenly the gush of thick blood
Followed by uncontrollable wailing
And tearing of the heart into shreds.
Just one awful sound, end up producing 
So many sounds of agony and sorrow.
At last, unprepared journey begins
To the great beyond after the sudden 
Fall of regret and woes.
A poem written by Uche ken Okologo. 4/30/2013...

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I started chopping, one by one
the non gratae parts of my Temple,
while unbeknownst to me
pebbles were already spreading whispers
in all directions.
Shh..don’t speak so loud 
You might as well keep quiet
Angst is already on her beaten path to the heart. 
A path guarded by flowerless magnolia trees
on one side..
and mud cypress trees
on the other side, the one towards the backwater.
Shh..tis nothing but a..
distichum of deciduous discomforts....

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Listen to poem:

Hollywood Car
David J Walker 

I am thinking of moving 
To Hollywood 
And living in my car
And leave it double-parked
Until I become a star
Though, at my age maybe 
Not very practical  and at
This stage of life 
Not really adaptable to 
The discomforts of a
Wanna be star
	Living in a car
So
I’m thinking of moving to
Hollywood but
Taking my truck
Thinking my F-150 
Would bring me 
Better luck 
Then a parked car
Piling up parking tickets
Wanting to be a star...

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I wish for all bad than good,
All that could guarantee pains.
Because for all good wishes,
I reap burn,
All discomforts.
Every shooting star
Brought misery.

But maybe...
Maybe if I could wish for Knives,
All will be Adversed.

If every morning I could pray
For the blazing fire to consume me,
Maybe I might find joy.
I mean How many..?
How many wishes for Presidency?
But in every generation, Zumas are few,
Though Millions made a wish.

Maybe paradox is life.
Just Maybe......

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