T'was eighty two wonderful years,
Before you departed to leave me in tears,
My loneliness hearkens to the fears left by the hearse,
Even the harmattan couldn't dry my streams of tears,
Because I know now you are no more near.
You left through the corridors of November,
Twenty eight is a number I will forever remember,
It can't even be withered by any winter,
As long as the sun shines and the stars twinkle,
I will remember you even after my cheeks wrinkle.
I came out first under your big umbrella,
You rhymed my name and I became a Cinderella,
You left me on a path illuminated in high candela,
You decorated my life with beautiful chandeliers,
You poured wisdom full into my many tumblers.
Before God made all the angels your trumpeters.
Now with God your soul now forever stays,
Your demise messaged more things than you could say,
To your honour I shall live my days,
May God almighty continue to guide my ways,
Rest on dad, till we shall meet at the heavenly quays.
Spring days like these
Were made for katie ruellia -
Who is royalty among flowers -
Robed delicately in purple.
She's arrived at the festivities -
The trumpeters blow a sennet.
Her crown is the leaves;
The butterflies – her subjects.
Planted too late in the season
they missed the beauty of the Christmas rush
when evergreens, mistletoe and hollies blushed
but now, with a little soil, water, warm sun hookup
the amaryllis stretches high and up,
tall and gangly, lank and lean
but on sturdy thick shoots, light green
they grow
with a two-foot-high chapeau
and the buds open slow and precise
eluting an aromatic spice
beauty, grace and petals galore
trumpeters shadow the sunroom floor
and with a scent of sweetened flavors
bloom the amaryllis' lovingly savored.
How popular is the big attraction today
By all accounts, it's “The Trumpeters Ballet”
It's classified first-rate
Though a bit overweight
His followers too, southern cooking on a plate
Poetry
Polite mannerisms
Often go unnoticed or ignored
Elephant trumpeters marching in the room
Talk of fiction and tall tales
Regarded as falsehoods or popular talk
Your voice and perspective counts a whole lot
Marckincia Jean
Acrostic
10/02/19
A cacophony of sounds, all jumbled together
Random notes, dissonance everywhere
Violin bows saw the air lazily, effortlessly
Then furiously, chins pressed hard to instruments
Flautists' lips wistfully poised above the holes
In a flash, diving deep into spritely melodies
Trombonists' brass bars sliding outward, then back inward
Deep tones scale upward, peak, descend again
Trumpeters' cheeks bulge outward, double-chins aflame
Beet-red faces, fingers marching, horns tootling
Cymbals clang and clash! Drums beat and boom!
Clarinets clamor... A cello... An oboe... The conductor's in slow-mo.
All this, prelude to a performance quite grand
To the concert forthcoming -- Strike up the band!
The bugle calls and the drums they roll.
The trumpeters, now making the big policy calls.
The american nation have gone and elected an internet troll.
and a president that loves gold, put as no soul,
Who wants to build walls and will pay for extra border patrols
If your born of ethnic origin you may need to hide in a foxhole.
And I can see this planets going to get an even bigger ozone hole.
This mans on the banks and big businesses payroll.
I really wish with all my heart and soul.
that his mum and dad, had used birth control.
There's something different about speechless encounters
When the rain pours and we're soaked from the days work,
my legs tremble and my eyes water
With the buds of pain dripping from my eyes
It has been a lifetime since I promised myself forever
And today seems to be as hopeless as yesterday
But it is not long
Before your arms are draped around mine
And it feels as if we're locked within a trance
Smiling feels less of a chore now
If moments could last forever
If I could choose
I'd choose this moment; our speechless encounter
Dreamers dream
Scoffers scoff
Thinkers think
And droppers drop
Artists create art
Writers will write
Beware of biters, yes they will bite
A smiler will smile
Still sometimes they'll frown
Although mostly happy
There are times they feel down
Laughers may laugh
Other time they will cry
Life ain't so easy
That's why tryers try
Stinkers will stink
Comforters will comfort
Listen to trumpeters
They really do trumpet
Listeners will listen
Talkers will talk
Movers will move
It's hard for them to stop
Shakers will shake
Steppers will step
You wouldn't be surprised
If a sleeper slept
Circles will circle
Back to the start
A dreamer dreaming
Creating his art
Dusted off for SKAT's contest.
old truth unrefined
had a louder sound
than a thousand trumpeters!
let’s remember the ancestors
the ancestors of the clan –
the infamous and un-kingly kings
celebrate their inglorious libations
all over my land, my clan –
but, my clansmen
let not the clan forget the famous
foundations of the nri kingdom –
let’s remember the ancestors
the ancestors of the clan -
let the name of agaja trudo
be on the marbles of dahomey finest artists
for ’tis nothing infamous
for mansa musa to be versed
upon the new urns of the mali kingdom –
let mai ali ghaji be greeted
with the finest literary trumpeters!
let osie tutu sit seat-to-seat
with nelson mandela –
my clansmen
new are our horns today
let not the old horns of africa
be cut off in the zest of the artists
for my ancestors shall not be
mere spectators, mere winds
flying the history of my clan!
& the echoes
come
ah! coming
like a trudge of nature’s drums
of light horns & urgent trumpeters
setting my home
aflame with songs!
songs!
to remind the lords
of their ancient drum-beats -
songs!
to remind the maidens
of the moon-light dance!
of new drum-beats
songs!
of ever-coming millennia clan-kings -
& she
seeing
saw it all
the temple up the crest
of a thousand mounts –
& she
hearing
heard a full trump
a full blast of mixt songs
with drum-beats from village huts
near her niger’s banks
near her neophyte’s nest -
in came
her song-throated maidens
like my mbari dancers
near nri clan
in came
her retinue
her century-old pages
drumming
dancing
with the hosts
of the ever-coming millennia clan-kings
Waiting once more for the wonders at dawn,
a tired, empty muse paces midnight's lawn
struck dumb by notions refusing to spawn.
With nothing to prompt, she sneaks up the stair.
Some twenty young bards enroute along there
seeking a clue, found her out like a bear.
Two go swimming, three take pets for a stroll,
four watch a mare giving birth to a foal,
two quarrel and bicker, one catches a mole.
Another cleans house for friends who are ill.
three read the Bible; one cooks on the grill;
two trumpeters rehearse their latest drill.
Who needs a muse? Be amused, seize your day!
Embrace moments, then write the night away.
written Dec. 2, 2011
a sonnet similar to Keats' sonnets with four tercets and a couplet
using monorhyme.
2013, Carol Sunshine Brown - WHO WHAT WHERE
(for: chinua achebe)
Part One
With gaiety and some pump
Forerunners, trumpeters
And the Gala came to us –
Varied voices, many eyes on faces
Swift to see the lapis lazuli
Nature’s gift to a forest:
(Teachers and teachees,
Authors, farmers and traders,
They came with songs;
Scholars and scholees,
Misters, mistresses and villagers,
They came with songs;
Lecturers and lecturees,
Drummers, dancers and clan-leaders,
They came with songs;
Professors and professees,
Pro-chancellors, chancellors and chair-holders,
They came with songs;
Governors and governees,
Business giants, dwarfs and hawkers,
They also came with songs!)
Gentle Prof –
The tales were so loudly told
Of new buses, of omnibuses;
Your tales-bearers so numerous
Loud-sounding speakers
Sharp ear-piercing trumpeters
Harping like some prime oracles
Announcing the benevolence of the deity
Each weaver sing-wept for joy
Even in these hard times!
Where are the buses?
Where are the omnibuses?
In a trick of sacrifice
Within the shrines of smaller deities
The gallant wheels bear the kids
Of our rabbi-bosses
Pampering their swap-ward women & maids
Like the ambrosia & emerald of deities
(Prof, a watch-lad saw them)
Was this intent?
Then on the day of campus turmoil
A new elephant-wheel came to us
(Prof, a watch-lad saw it all!)
Lads & lasses beamed as bosses
In the gallantry of a new conveyancer
– Was this intent? –
(Pro, think well now!)
Was it the trick of old bosses
To cover another clear loophole:
To dim the eye of the sun?
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.