What a sad day it was on the fifth day of June
Death being so greedy visited Saint Francis in about noon
And a beautiful sunny day was thrown into shade
Man's wickedness to man makes my heart fade
For Nigeria, I'm tired of daily writing a dirge
But these recurrent events cause a verge of tears as we sit on the edge
Whether east or west we're covered with shame
But sadly our leaders run after fame
The tragedy in the land of Owo
Like others punctured our national honour
What's is left is a pontification
From a lack of good evaluation
Alas, I'm shattered as I mourn the dead
Maybe I should mourn Nigeria instead
The land of Owo was thrown into flood of tears
What score is ever worth a fellow's tears
I saw among those that have died
Some eminent people that had nowhere to hide
We're like lilacs or lilies that love to blossom
But this nation shades us with boredom
We live in the land of fury
Where we can't trust the jury
But I'm sure that the brains behind this continuous massacre
Will sooner face their negative karma
Categories:
threnody, death,
Form: Rhyme
Bent wire horizon,
the day is a broken perimeter.
There is light
between the barbs
but you have to squint,
pretend the fence still holds.
People flee,
their knees are bruised
by each narrowing dawn.
The fool on the hill
blames the sun
in his eyes.
Categories:
threnody, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Back then we could eat clouds -
we were that tall, even baggy Ben (who
was small for a lumpy kid),
could leap over a pub door
without leaving the floor.
Then behind our backs
a Lilliputian world crept up,
it was mouse-grey, and it nibbled ferociously.
I went to the South Coast to roustabout;
then the lot of them
chose to join the heavy brigade;
they got real jobs
not the casual hourly sideshow work
bohemians favored.
After spinning my head for a shilling I returned,
but by then the whole decade had dispersed
like moths in a rainstorm.
I renewed an acquaintance or two
with former females,
those who had been set aside
on shelves for later.
There was no longer any power in flowers
drum circles lost their nativist beat.
Of course we all sold out,
I was just a late bloomer.
Now in my mature and preserved fruitiness
I spurn the hallucinogenic
and am as pious as any defrocked magpie
that drips memories by moonlight,
grudgingly bemoaning the sag
of this slow jowly age.
Categories:
threnody, poetry,
Form: Free verse
For fiercest queens, the finest pedigree,
Begetter and bestower of all lauds;
For foulest plagues, the fairest remedy,
Despoiler and destroyer of all frauds.
Revered for rectitude, renowned for laurels,
You helped reform the world to honest fame;
Reviled as sinister, renounced on morals,
The world deformed you to mendacious shame.
Now candid trade’s betrayed by blackened graft,
And harmless wit’s harangued by hurtful wile,
And simple skill’s arraigned by compound craft,
And vulgar pride's maintained by vulpine guile.
The grossest lies all get averred for gain
Since humblest truth became impugned and slain.
Categories:
threnody, truth,
Form: Sonnet
I laid my aching heart upon your grave
that February day when trees were bare
of life; their withered leaves fell down to brave
the chill of winter death. With you they shared
the frozen veins and blood of lifeless ground.
And tears of icy rain helped to impart
the gloom, where stillness reigned, and not a sound
was heard, except the moaning of my heart.
Then April came on pussy-willow feet
to wake the trees with leaves and budding bloom,
while thawing ground gave birth in springtime-heat
to velvet grass which hid the ashen gloom.
Now stung to life by hope in April's rain,
the golden youth of earth shines bright and new.
And so I lay my heart with winter's pain
upon this renewed life that covers you.
I stand here in the shadow of death's sting.
Oh, Dad, I feel your pulsing spirit hand.
Come lead me to your green and hopeful spring
as it was- when you walked this earthen land.
Categories:
threnody, death, emotions, father,
Form: Iambic Pentameter
I should have said this on that fateful 9th of December
The year 2009 when your breath forsook the corporeal
And went to roam among the gay dancing stars;
And failure to say it has dealt my heart an incurable beal.
I know that late is better than never as they say,
So, may I not therefore carry on with my threnody?
Well, glittering jewels do not usually last as long
As the eventful longevity of the average Kennedy.
And you being the most precious among gems,
Had to lose your glitter and gleam as years wound;
Not a diamond or marble of your time shines anymore,
And trinkets of your age cannot be nowadays found.
Yet, your all-pervasive breath that’s found in everything
Cannot be said to have evaporated on a single unfortunate day;
And unlike other mundane jewels that their sparkle lose for good,
You are a jewel whose glister increases with wear day after day.
The indestructible crystal immune to cracks,
The precious and immortal bracelet that history will wear
And learn how the strivings of a single well-meant soul,
Can imbue the whole world with a faith and hope so rare.
Categories:
threnody, death,
Form: Verse
Here cries a young woman who recently lost her friend.
She was angry with her friend; she scolded her rage, her rage did end.
A voice from the dead said: ‘‘Friend! I know what I did was a great mess;
I’m sorry –and to be honest, I wouldn’t ask for your pardon unless
I was at peace. Where I are it is evermore burning and there’s no getting old;
Yet there’s only a way in and no way out; no food, no water, nor feeling bold –
Apart from that though, I know that my death had put you through a lot of pain,
But there’s definitely no need to cry; I won’t return, for there’s no dying again.
Now listen: ‘til the sun sheds its tears, just keep on singing our favourate song;
And at any rate, the lamentation shan’t recur; yet the song will keep you strong.’’
Categories:
threnody, death of a friend,
Form: Elegy
FROM HIS BRAIN POETRY FELL,
FROM HIS CREATIVITY EMERGED-
HE WAS YOUNG IN THE POETIC DUEL,
READY TO MAKE HIS PRESENCE FELT.
AND A THOUSAND POEMS READILY DROPPED
AS HIS SWORD BRANDISHED HOT.
HE COULD SING OUT EVERY HIS POEM
AND MAKE NATURE SILENTLY WEEP.
BUT ALAS! WHILE NATURE SLEPT,
DEATH READILY REFUSED TO SLEEP-
FOR IT CAME AROUND READY TO REAP
RIGHT FROM THIS EARTH THIS YOUNG POET'S NAME.
HERE LIE THE REMAINS OF HIS POETIC FAME
AFTER DEATH HAD MURDERED HOT:
WHAT MUST WE DO THAN SILENTLY WEEP
CUZ HE IS GONE TO THE ETERNAL KEEP.
YOUR SOUL WATCHES EVERY TEAR DROP
AS OUR HEARTS PRAY TO HEAVEN'S REALM
TO RECEIVE YOUR SOUL AND BE IT REDEEMED,
SO THAT YOUR POEMS MAY NOT IN HEAVEN SLEEP.
Categories:
threnody, deathnature, nature, poems,
Form: Elegy
Oftentimes in a persons life certain sounds heard trigger a particular mood.
The early morning sun is bright
My spirit waxes with the light.
So why do mourning doves still sing
Woeful threnodies this morning?
I hear robin’s newly hatched, cheep;
I hear house sparrows young ones tweet
But when I hear the doves refrain:
cooOOoo-woo-woo-woooo! Sadness
Overwhelms this brief cheerfulness
and changes to melancholy.
Why, oh why, by all that’s holy
Must it betide, this dove songs pray
Always in this similar way?
Each day matters not- good or bad
A sadden heart is all I have.
Categories:
threnody, sad
Form: Couplet
Sleepless in my room,
The sound of constant thunder
And a ceaseless wind;
Even the stars are weeping
As vengeance consumes the sky.
Jim Wilson
Categories:
threnody, war
Form: Tanka