Messy? A child at home word.
Not this crone's, outside.
Whose own litter, leaf ,log-felled
When least by repelled.
Whilst strewed with shrieked delight, not
Demented fury!
And heard, laughed for us, as sore;
Kicked through; and jumped o'er!
You are what's so seem
In my forbidden dream
Gentler and splendor in you
A cloud fluffing in stretching hue
Hunger forgets it's sorrow
In an earliest sweet-morrow
I hearken melody in hushing sepulchre-
Your grin in laurel blossoms of ochre
I see no luna,in tenebrous sky-
But In your,in your kosmos eye
Strewed the lycaenids upon the swelling dell
For descry of you,my mere Danielle
Might envy; the resentful angel above
You are the all,the laudable in all love
While I misstep in chasm of your stare
O' I arouse before sunshine in morns fair
Now I missed what's so seem
In my forbidden dream
My lady,the sweven lady
She entrapped me to this malady
Thro' the naked lady,she appear
Came nigher mine sweven dear-
NB Had some eye trouble. Next week I'll have an eye operation. Hopefully in a week I I will recover.
They laid her in a damp black hole long ago.
Surrounded by tall dark cypress trees,
The winds sighed softly in sorrow,
While I stood head bowed down in grief.
Lifeless leaves fell in brown bunches,
And covered up her ghostly grave,
I swept them off to clean the flagstones,
Strewed instead flowers fragrant and sweet.
We could have had a lovely marriage,
We could have had unlimited love.
Wisely, she wanted only the present,
Wisely, she rejected all but love.
Now she's gone, and all these years,
I dream of changing the ghastly past,
I visit her resting place and ask
Is she still praying for me from up on high?
Children perceive the cries of their mother,
Mother unsupportive for the father’s noiseless soreness,
Soreness forgotten under the heaviness of days,
Days that build futures they never admire,
Admiration to mother’s effort, not to dad’s hands that strain.
Strain symbols his forehead, but silence skins the reality,
Reality ineffable by lips that profile their vision,
Vision of love biased, bitter and fictitious,
Fictitious the hate women hold since tender youth.
Youth forgets the man, who walked unaided,
Unaided in storms to shield his children from the cold,
Cold are hearts that never have been told,
Told of the shadow where love was strewed.
Poem by Mugisho N.
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
I'm drawn to this bouquet; I am left so madly.
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
Happiest are these thoughts deliberately construed.
Winter taking them from my core destroys me, sadly.
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
Purple pillars of violently swaying happiness imbue
So I harvest them as fast as I can, enjoying them gladly.
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
After such a long time between blossoms, histories accrued.
I waited patiently for their replacement, so very badly.
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
I felt the truest of forlorn, nearly left lifelessly blued.
Springtime rain brought them back to my welcoming hands, comradely.
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
Once I found eyes on them, new happiness did exude.
Replenishing their hearts energy regrown in me
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
A mode of transportation
By which low class pair
Does feel so raised in status
Reserved to deem it
For queeny Love, fit!
Waist coated, by one handled
Grandly debonair.
Open carriaged, a route a-float!
As smooth, sweet praise-strewed
Lily-avenued!
Melbourne
That Diaspora represent a piece of my identity,
Strewed my views on the squires of taciturnity,
Inconspicuous lines and depictions,
And then there's the pencil wizard,
Follow my body's rhythms, that I used to bury,
A meandering deer in the tangle of conscience,
I interred it in the depths of my gentle soul,
He was doused in letter ink,
I interfered with him in some proper link,
The beater is nipped by a beehive,
Following the poke scores another shove,
Silence and no ardour, to mitigate brain's fury,
An ink would be dainty, to soothe mind's rage,
The gap was scared, so he squeezed a sunrise,
Swollen and grown, with that slammer,
Reluctantly urge her to endow what she's realized,
I swore an oath of ultimate devotion.
Her moral sins were washed by the Lord.
You didn't hook sight of her fastening orbs.
Twilight's deeper level starts eagerly with a rally.
Written: February 20, 2022
My squirrels are foraging in the backyard
After days of the snow-covered ground,
They are finding the peanuts I strewed
Jumping and chasing, always they astound.
One, a red squirrel, has recently arrived
From the woodland beyond the meadow,
The grays are treating her like an intruder
I enjoy watching them from my window.
Since it is extremely cold this morning
Their metabolism makes them move quickly,
They will feed as long as they possibly can
It appears that none of them are sickly.
My love for these critters is long-standing
For my Uncle Cladie rescued baby squirrels,
Kept them in a basement cage for company
When he tired of Auntie’s constant quarrels.
Especially I remember one called “Little Man,”
Who was allowed to come upstairs and play
He was as domesticated as any household cat,
And he would follow me around all day,
Sometimes attaching himself to my pants leg
He would ride along with me wherever I went.
Early on, I learned that animals are comforting
And they are free and completely innocent.
Written January 27, 2022
Cold snow covered all tombs and lanes,
Still he strewed the coffin with sprays
of flowers, to lessen his pains.
He uttered a few words of praise.
But snow showers
Buried flowers.
He recited poetic strains
Could only look down in a daze.
Hot tears fell upon her remains
Yet snow veiled all in a cold haze,
Irked and harried,
All sprays buried.
Bells summoned as they tolled the sad departure
Of my poor mother’s sudden demise.
I led the short funeral procession
Towards her eternal resting sepulchre.
Before her black ebony casket was closed,
I looked intently down at her, still beautiful.
Her dress, her favourite, all lace in black.
That was her last and final wish.
They laid her in a damp black tomb
Surrounded by tall dark cypress trees,
A breeze sighed and soughed softly in sorrow
While I stood head bowed down in grief.
Lifeless leaves fell in yellow-red bunches
And covered up her ghostly grave
No tears streamed down my face, heartbroken,
Strewed instead black roses, fragrant and sweet.
Image of Puzzle Match Missing provided by Pixabay.
Poetless II
Poetic Form: Couplet
Blank pages strewed, across the desk of pains,
in a tongue-tied state, censured writer wanes.
The silent voice echoes hollow inked wells,
of dying words crept from a mind that quells.
Overwrought grips, scrawl at piles of long since,
mayhaps some gleam ... sort of sign to convince.
The broken clock held, tells that time does not,
while a mute welcomes, what songbirds still got,
Rambled insights ... a house filled in guises,
shadowed bound words, the heart vaporizes.
In rhythmless moments, just proved the resolve,
pen floors speechless, writer's blankness evolve.
2021 May 18
Drawing up its seating
Of relaxation
By what tree-blown, o'erflown
Of pleasure cloud, bird
Do these cities, coarse-heard
Graciousness take on.
How more so, park-guided
Down whose paths are, nights
Albeit eve's chill lit
Old-style lamped! Warmer!
For its theatre's farther,
Cafe's, pub's strewed lights.
Melbourne
Alone, I fled from the city that night-
escaping problems that kept me awake-
to a lodge by the seashore- where an old
eerie boardwalk creaks near the white sand beach.
To unwind the stress that city life caused,
I settled in peace with something to drink.
The label, I hide on the wine bottle-
denying this habit I need to break.
Sabbatical dreams after quarantine-
woke me in the morning- with such a fright!
I dreamt a black cat attacked me in bed-
and I screamed as witches flew through the air.
Blood on my blanket, black fur strewed about-
enormous green witch eyes glaring at me!
"Calm down now- our dearie, it's not a dream!"
They told me of the psycho cat's demise!
Horns honking and sirens woke me for sure-
a normal weekday with clear skies and sun,
in this city, my home- glad to be here!
My scary night- just a dream in a dream!
September 15, 2020
Contest: Collaborate With Me
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Rules: Need to incorporate lines shown
in bold- supplied by the sponsor.
Each line must be 10 syllables.
Blank pages strewed high on my desk in pain,
For now, I heard the squelch of death again,
It had echoed from my emptied inkwells,
As dying words crept from a mind that quells,
Pilfered hands scrawl at piles for hopeful hints,
A gleam, as much as a sign to convince,
A broked stopped clock reminds that time does not,
And a muted bird still has what its got,
Rambled eyes of a place in disguises,
Shadows grow as my heart vaporizes,
My rhythmless moves just proved my resolve,
I heard the squelch of death again, evolve.
2019 September 14
I sense them calling through my chest.
Their counsel in my head.
Through thin winds shining shellfish light
I'm shown the way in red.
Their dead sound calmly drawing down
a crescent chambered brood.
As isolation fills me sad
with scars a park has strewed.
That everywhere I think I can
I'll look where more should be.
And everywhere I hope I can
accept that 13th tree.
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