I never knew some girls could be so mean
and carry on like a trans high school teen.
It sure ain’t raging hormones
cos this coven are old crones
who crave attention and wish to be seen!
So I shall grant them that wish they so crave
and make ‘em my witch ‘n make ‘em my slave.
I will immortalise ‘em
with my satirical pen
until they want more and make me their fave!
(I think I already am)
Written March 2025
PS: Note to Mean Girls. Please stop writing
and posting inane tirades disguised as
red pill humour and let’s just move on
shall we. You make it way too easy!
Play out your girl aggression somewhere
else. Don’t be “damp squibs”. Bygones?
Let's
not
go there-
politics
and/or religion.
Drunk at
midnight, playing with
moon squibs.
*
Hearing-
a nocturne,the spirit soars,
when you are drowned.
*
A galaxy
invites me for a night vigil.
Some elixir will rain.
Satish Verma
Wanton words or bits of paper
Flotsam and jetsam or progenitors
Damp squibs or ticking time bombs
Collect..and recollect
Their golden worth, silverfish and all
Revived or transmigrated
To touch earth’s core and zodiac zones
To recreate vibes syncing with a smart sun
On pretty turf bearing its sweet burden
Of coy blooms or breeze bushed
On mornings lying about in yards like spilt milk
Words that wouldn’t miss the woods for the tree
Moving along paths, straight or wavy
Slicing through sheer life
Leaving left and right little islands
Of sunshine or sombre nights,
Bristling,though, with rain on fresh page
The epic stage for an unfinished call
Once left reticulated with a dumb aridity.
For Carol Brown's 'Pieces of paper..A poet's heart'
By: S.Jagathsimhan nair, 14 sept 11
No.1 in the above contest
Arise! Africa
Arise Africa and let the mills wheel along.
Arise Africa and feel the wills meal prolong.
Enclosed in the winds, the milks of nature endowed,
Enmeshed in the oceans, topography of landscapes around.
The talking drum with the voice,
The vuvuzela with the horns.
Awaiting the flickers of light,
From squibs of Heavenly light glow.
And when you see the day again,
You will regain the resilience of victory.
Upon the turbulence of invasion, you stood,
Upon the bits and bits of snips, you geumed.
Glamour ridden in garments of Sapiens,
Grandeurs stricken in firmaments of lampreys.
Thriving on the machinations of man,
When the mantle of zest acclaim the fore.
Amidst the prismatic of colours,
Mincing the lilt of mimosa days.
From the wakes of gloryville return,
The mouth of Africa will blow the horn of victory.
Adeola Yusuf Amuni
So close and yet so far,
the firebrand of time leaves marks,
in swimming mist the dream expires,
damp squibs in dying sparks.
The tears will not cease,
they etch a tidemark deep and sad
on the face of all that could have been,
missing all I've never had.
In the tick of my biology
lies a gift that would not give,
with the beating of ghostly hearts
of that which could not live.
Mourning from the shadows
the lament howls in the depths of me
and each imagined brow I kiss
of those I loved who could not be...