Short Tiding Poems

And they laughed. Lovingly, affectionately.
As the morning sun was the hero in the windowpane in this city.
And I thought about the cop, this city and his tattooed skin.
God is a garbage can, where people on earth are a glad tiding.
And warning too.

June 8, 2023...

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How quiet are the closing moments
of Winter

Its final lingering shadow
passing over your regret

Days lengthen into night,
returning Blackbirds a good tiding

What ended in shades of red and brown
—beginning once again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)...

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Iridescent hues of fallacy
Mask the chains that pierce
This bruised soul…

Born with burn stains
Of her native land
Tattooed in tiding teardrops…

Her cascading locks 
Choke a history of
Troubled legacies…still

Visible are remnants
Of a crimson flag
Permanently adorning
Her battered life’s past…

Lay...

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A wasteful effort 
In the waste; 
A retired General 
Is smiling to his public; 
A lover gets rid of 
His expensive flowers; 
The moon is looking 
For adoption 
By the old sun; 
Pilgrims 
Are curious; 
I am tiding up 
My feet 
With a robust trusted cord; 
My legs are above my head now 
I am attempting my last yoga suicide....

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Through
blood stained aeons
religions
tiding astronomical
assuring
the birth of the sun

Shines
the near dead
seasonally depressed
atheist

Glowing

It sure is nice
to celebrate
with everyone




*SAD: Seasonal Affective Disorder





12.20.2019
Beyond The Niceties Of Christmas Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Bobbie Burns...

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l hear cries, 
Praises, 
shouting, 
passionate voices flare, 
filling the humid air, 
declaring profound joy, 
cries and Praises from the podiums, 
unrestrained noise of joy from preachers, 
who occupy every available dias, 
l hear them, 
l hear it, 
the great tiding of the age, 
being scribbled on of this epoch the page....


by Luckson Mupakamiso...

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Christmas bring happy tiding

From far and wide..

Happy faces smile with glee

Waiting for “Ole Saint Nick”

Cookies and milk all sitting in

Place,

Hoping, trying to get a glance

Of Santa..

While the jingle bells ring from

His sledge..

Scraping the roof with his reindeer

Hoofs..

He cry out with a jolly laugh merry

Christmas 

To one and to all......

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Frankincense 
Incense 
And 
Half burnt candle's 
X 3
In a Triangular Circle 
A good luck potion 

To appease 
The Gods
He knew not he robbed
All he wronged
For fear he was cursed 
He sought magic to reverse

The silk purse of bad tiding 
Sick to death of hiding 
From being endlessly put upon
Rejection and misfortune 

Chant and charm
By sweaty palm
Be gone
Flickering flame
Lest my Demons 
Be Slain

Take me to Part 3' domain...

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