A full African figure
Is how I can describe her
The Joy of seeing her
Is it not to be found
In her leaving as they drool
Her face contemplative
And easy grace mixed with charm
A voice tantalizing as she browses
I think she is on Tiktok now..
Fala.. she jokingly calls me
When my teasing's are too much
The Joy of a platonic friend
Is to be found in altruism and loyalty
Did I mention shes from a background unrated
Joy easy is her name and being a constant friend
I desire the playful talk, flirting's, and daily teasing's
Sticks and stones may break your bones
But names can put you down
I'd rather have broken bones
Than be the talk of the town
My grandkids talk of leprechauns
As if they are alive
And finding one is something
For which both of them do strive.
They know that unicorns aren’t real,
So telling them the truth
Seems easy, but they still believe
A fairy takes their tooth.
Of course, because St.Patrick’s Day
Is right around the bend,
I think I’ll just keep quiet
And let both of them pretend
Since I’m convinced they know deep down
(They’re fourth and second grade)
That their belief in leprechauns
Will soon begin to fade.
She is the talk of the barnyard the alpaca’s whispered in tones.
She is gorgeous, leggy, furry, and she has the prettiest bones.
We were anxious to meet her but were jealous right away of course.
Everyone was super excited about her beauty, even the camel and horse.
They were the talk of the meadow, these bunnies, these two.
They were so in love, others could not remain sad or blue.
We watched them frolic and hop with so much joyfulness.
We spied on them covertly, most did not make a fuss.
They are cuteness personified, said the garden gnome.
We should write them up in a song, melody or poem.
As you can see I totally agreed with this idea he had.
I have written it up, and I feel grateful and glad.
What could be said of chains?
If not armoury, after what’s left
What could be said of armoury?
If not injury, after the scars
What could be said of injury?
If not a name, left on lips of today
Our owner's name tattooed
On our coloured skin, stayed.
But now we say its swag from shops
The sugar, the cotton, all know
Our feigns, the sun, the rain, winter
Till this day.
The birds sang our lyrics in tearful tones
And loosed them to the vastness
Of the sky
Of pains of shame of dog chains
Of tapes of rapes of games of fate
But now in raps of history our
Revolution roll, rise & sailed till
This day we say “we be free! Man!”
Gideon Idudje
My hell is full. Please, go to hell
with all your “as”, “too” and “as well”,
find peace in somewhere else.
Get out of here. My hell is full.
The arguments you give is bull-
sheet. My fatigued tongue swells
to say over and over: hell
is for bad poets only. Tell
me what did write before
you died? The choree, the old school
iambic rhymes and rhythms? You’ll
not enter in my door.
Budge up, you're getting in the way
of many others, dare I say,
true sinners, who have been
forever doomed, forever cursed
for poetry in prose, free verse
and haiku. Come on in.
We've both heard the whispers
From most of our friends
They all seem to see through
Where both of us stand
If we walked in together
Can you imagine the stares
As the I told you so's
Are heard in the air
Let's be the talk of this town
The bush is too small
To still beat around
We both know the truth
It's time it finally gets out
Let's be the talk of this town
From the first day I met you
I knew it was right
Hindsight's never wrong
It just keeps shedding light
So now here we stand
Without making a sound
Let's be the talk of this town
Let's be the talk of this town
The bush is too small
To still beat around
We both know the truth
It's time it finally gets out
Let's be the talk of this town
We're no longer scared
To lose what we've found
So let's be the talk of this town
You Queen mine and I king you.
I am your world and you are my god.
But still you live,why do not you separate me apart.
You Queen mine and I king you.
Why do you say why are you angry.
When I am with you forever.
Do not you know this?
Is not your heart in my heart?
When is all this truth that I said.
Then why are not you laughing so far?
You Queen mine and I king you.
I am your world and you are my god.
You girl is very strange,
Sometimes away, and sometimes
you are close.
Why do you go away when it comes back?
You are excellent to me,
My heart is close to you.
(Girl)- you boy is a bit weird,
A little crazy and little fine.
Tighten as agitate you,
I feel very well.
I will play in such a way
and I will not spare you.
You are my fate
of the hands-on races.
I do not trouble you ,
I love you.
You live near me,
My heart is my destiny.
You boy is a bit weird,
A little crazy and little fine.
Here's the kid that took a **** in the urinel
they picked on him and threw his books down in the hallway
used to eat from the empty tray lunches
gave him rides home from school
kids told me I wasn't cool
yet who are they anyway
folks said he went off in the Army
many years would pass having every reason to grasp
where has he been
then I was a security guard
in a mentally insane facility
I heard his name over the loud speaker
now he was locked up for all eternity
the great Jimmy Foley
the talk of the town
a challenge to be free is a question of time
New York's the talk of the town.
New York, New York.
When you're passing through,
you get a scenic veiw.
Of the Statue Of Liberty.
New York's celebrity host.
They're the talk of the town.
Manhattan's day, a queens souffle.
A trip through Long Island.
Hudson Bay along the way.
New York, New York.
If you say this twice.
It's twice as nice.
New York, New York..
New York's the talk of the town.
New York, New York.
They say it's great.
The Empire State,
and the Statue Of Liberty.
Don't turn around.
We're onward bound.
On a trip through Long Island.
Hudson Bay along the way.
New York, New York.
If you say this twice.
It's twice as nice.
New York, New York.
New York's the talk of the town.
New York, New York.
Take a pleasure cruise.
Then read the news,
and watch a football game.
Manhattan's day, a queens souffle.
A trip through Long Island.
Hudson Bay along the way.
New York, New York.
So, if you say this twice.
It's twice as nice.
New York, New York.
New York's the talk of the town.
New York, New York..
Poetry-New York-By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1980,2014..ALL rights reserved.
people can tell
my the smell
and holiday bells
that love is around
its the Christmas sound
santa walking up and down
its the
TALK OF THE TOWN
Oh I have done it now, I have failed you yet
Upon whose bones and shoulders I've trampled
With the rightful heir's death
Chaining myself to a throne of thorns
Unequally yoked with my kinsmen
Who drag the crown over these hallowed grounds
The dead tell no lies for we do it for them
So come, let us talk of graves and epitaphs
And how with vile worms I lie
My merits lived and sealed
Such grave errors do accent my frailties
Let me ease your sorrows with my ghostly hymns
We'll leave this country to the just vagabonds
May they rob this grave of my woes and my debt
------
For the Shakespeare contest. From Richard II
we are here and far
people know
our love begining to show
its getting around
we are the
TALK OF THE TOWN
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