I'll never walk Lagos's streets, for there I might not find German restaurant in which
To eat, or Russian grub? Or Maori food.? Or
Polo playing..Now dont think me rude.? But
If I arrived and they did not have
Chaucer plays or Tolstoy? I would
think them mad.? At least mono-cultural that most henious crime, in the west its been uncovered umpteen times
I hope some camera crew or even two do make a
Visit to see if such horrors are true.? No
Phantom of the opera in Eskimo.?
A real bad sign i'll have you to know,, yes they must be lectured if such is the case..Even berated! Right in their face.) And their
Land transformed, that they become much
More civilised.? Should that be the in
your place
Face.' Or faces of many? cause thats how its been for fifty pointless years on.' In the attacking of the
working western dream.)
_____________________________
Lady luck seldom seems to smile at me, and I was wondering why. But, looking at all the lost opportunities I’ve now come to know why. Luck happens when a man locks his chances, quiet that come, not a knock.
____________________________
Luck, what’s not when God picks lots from a pot,
Nor so much when a chance arrives to knock
At closed door nor when birds of fortune flock,
Luck’s no ‘crow perches fruit falls’ kind of lot,
Nor does begin when a lucky break locks,
Nor is a strike the iron be when hot,
Alibis all, a lost-out man has sought
When he fails to pull up his loosened socks.
Luck lingers when a man dots every dot
And never waits for Lady Luck to come,
The odds when turn opportune, nay, awesome,
Luck favours but when all battles are fought.
This, from a man who’s missed luck umpteen times,
And whose next time must wait for better climes.
____________________________________
Sonnet | 03.01.2018 | fate/fortune/luck, lot, opportunity/chance, humour
Ah Epstein Files, who’s who of naughty names
Making life come good at resorts with dames.
But I’m disappointed
For not making the grade
Among some biggest guns that play such games
And make some rare headlines
Hard for poetic lines,
Whatso open fame’s gate is free from shames,
No evidence of guilt
Is no proof of no guilt,
A top gun legal authority claims.
___________________________________
Happenings | 15.02.2026 | fame, name, shame, humour, society, world
Note: More and more Big Names get linked to Epstein. Trump and Musk, two famous Bills, actors, linguists, and even motivational maestros. Poets? Not sure, but here‘s my chance as the only unknown name. As the needle of suspicion comes closer home, this is what this pen-pusher hopes.
"Spring is a wonderful season making itself vibrant when hearts beat to the rhythm of music, when butterflies flit around flowers and birds break their interim wintry silence with sweet carols. The magic of spring is overpowering." ---- By Poet
From a music maestro’s harp string
The chimes of a melody ring
Colorful flowers awaken
To greet the gently approaching spring.
The wintry chill’s silence is broken
Everyone, to birds’ sweet chorus hearken
The tight strung guitar plays mellow and deep
Happily welcoming spring unbidden.
Fresh buds awaken from winter’s sleep
Eastern winds from far gently sweep
Heavenly vibrations, resonant beats!
From under cover, rodents creep.
Splendorous sunshine with warmth greets
Cycle of seasons routinely repeats
Change in nature is so lovesome
Spring presents umpteen visual treats.
Trump’s stuck-up pin playing adrift,
Here’s fig leaf of his haughty brief:
‘On verge of nuclear war
How two neighbours next door
Were stopped, thanks to my trade tariff’.
Not his policy pick,
Rather personal pique
That might drive two friends off the cliff.
___________________________
Happenings | 45.08.2025 | USA, humour
Note: Trump feels that if lies are repeated umpteen times they turn into truths. Keeping this in mind he throws in statistics to support his grand policy postures. India has rebuffed him often on Indo-Pak matters, short of calling him a liar. But he goes on like a stuck-up Gramophone record.
Days have turned into a rebroadcast,
each mirroring the day before.
I examine days that have passed,
choosing some to completely ignore.
But I can’t dismiss God’s presence,
in matters that I’ve been through.
Forgetting not His omnipresence,
which influences the things I do.
My life now counts many years,
umpteen more than I’m deserving.
Throughout life I’ve had few fears,
because of the one I am serving.
Long life has exacted from me a price,
I thank God daily for one more slice.
There was an old man who marched in Dublin,
danced to malachite past, wore shammocks lean.
Guinness stout in clinking glass
he drank whole night en masse.
Through the day he dreamed Celtic dreams umpteen.
We’ve a long time friend named Shirlene,
between first meeting and now is umpteen.
She phones each week,
and is quite unique.
She’s not left or right but somewhere between.
Alluring Blessings Come Down Earthward, From God.
Heaven Intercedes Jubilant, Kindles Love-
Magnificent Nourishment, Obliterates pride.
Questing Radiant Souls Thirst Umpteen Virtues.
Wondrous Xavier Yahweh’s Zeal.
Teasing eyes that I can never get out
In my reveries, they haunt forever
Voluminous euphoric feelings sprout
And engross my musings without sever
Spend time gazing at the infinite highs
Your enthralling phiz pervades the blue screen
Decipher the transmitted from your eyes
Profound silence beat the heartstrings umpteen
Enchanting voice resonates in my heart
Droops me into a hallucination
Wish to soar leaving the whole realm apart
Quiet moments with exhilaration
Take the stand of Lord Byron to admire
You, as it's the lone thing that I aspire
When Mr negativity comes and you open the door,
you find his friends along with him occupying your mind.
Mr. Negative, Mr.Despair, Mr Despondency all are thieves
They steal happiness and peace and make you a pauper,
You feel like dying
Always make lady Hope your best friend
she will bring her friends Positivity and Peace along with her
Create an armour in your mind which Mr negative cannot penetrate
You will lead a blissful life.
Lady hope is around us always, easy to spot
Morning Sun brings rays of hope throughout the day
Moon and stars scatters silver streams of hope at night
Ever flowing breeze conveys God's presence and love, caressess us with hope
Rains pour clean water, drenches earth with hope
Ever flowing rivers of hope nourish surrounds
Umpteen seeds within each fruits, pollens in each flower scatter hope everywhere
Forest flourish on their own, breathing out hope every second
Plants emerge from tiled, concrete grounds, their smile says be hopeful
When you look around and you will spot lady Hope everywhere
She conveys the message - Be hopeful! God is there and takes cares.
pulchritudinous ingots chisel and shades
dazzle and illuminate umpteen reasons
poetry is like a swirling, susurrus-sibilant chimera
of innuendo arty souls, albeit vapid syntax
around serene scenery, orbs, and idealism
Is unction vital to adorn naked words with plumose wings?
whose views of contentment, vim, and happiness?
Inversely hamstringing people with arrows?
sighs of sorrow sound sowed soil
mothers, wailing and yelling out to unborn spirits
as our hearts crave affection
poetry provides its verisimilitude vacuum
do susurrus coruscating suborn scarlet spills?
deep within a stymie pirouette
the tortured sinews of a troubled mind are twisting
my life bill was still due till my final breath
I bequeath you my spirit as expressed in sonnets
I bequeath you my marrow, wrapped in iambic style
I bequeath you my mind, crafted with mispronunciation
sharing with those who owe me a xanthous soul
Gardening is my all-time favorite hobby.
Early morning I get into my garden after my coffee.
There the plants greet me with a smile.
That’s the moment I feel my efforts are worthwhile.
I have arranged my plants in pots in a neat row.
Tend them every day and make sure they grow.
On delicate stems, each flower her beauty parades.
I bask in the rainbow of their umpteen shades.
They grow with sun’s caress and rain’s kiss
For me, my garden is a source of indescribable bliss
As each petal unfolds, from my heart rises a hymn,
Seeing God’s chalice of beauty full to the brim.
Greatly enjoy the tranquil moments in my garden.
Before I took up my hobby, the land was totally barren.
To my life, the blossoms add an ounce of beauty more
Every morn, I wake to behold the loveliness waiting at my door.
the pulchritudinous moonwake captivates
inescapable
implicature is
inevitable
as our psyche thirsts for light
so poetry shines into the recesses
illuminates umpteen flaws
inversely
provides balm for forsaken
grey clouds hover
umpteen ripples in puddles ~
natural AC
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