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Best Poems Written by Christopher Iberi

Below are the all-time best Christopher Iberi poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Saints and Sinners

Teenage boys smoke marijuana in their Backyard,
The Priests make the smoke from incense grace the churchyard.

Harlots woo their clients like lovers,
Preachers spread God’s word in street corners.

Cops battle gangsters and fraudsters,
Angels battle demons and monsters.

A Pastor is on the Pulpit serving God’s Meal,
A Rapper is on stage keeping it real.

The D.J  feels the club with Jive,
The Choir Hymns make the Temple come Alive.

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Sir William Wallace

Sir William Wallace,
Regarded as Fearless,
Military Leader and Scottish Knight,
Who like all men slept at Night

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Squalor -The Cry of a Needy Orphan

Under a roof thatch born,
The flesh of my mama torn,
I wish I was never born,
As that day my mama was gone.

A cup of water to me is a trophy,
A tea-spoon full of honey, I am lucky.
A teenager, my head bears cement bulky 
In the site as my sweat makes my tongue taste salty.

Red spots body-over, a daily routine
As mosquitoes make me their protein
As I lay at night without a curtain
And clothes I possess without button.

My mates on Sundays I see wearing the tie,
As at me they stare while passing by
Like a dirty dog about to die.
Begging, I notice not my cry.


In anticipation, I await the day
Where from church a man shall to me say
“Your pain is over boy so come my way”
Like the after storm sun-ray.

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Until Her Heart Is Broken

A Lady of good roots,
Down to earth-head to boots,
Can’t say why I was chosen.

She has met her soul mate,
I have met a new date,
She swims in a Love Ocean.

I see her as a fling,
She sees me with a ring,
State of our bond unspoken.

She is ever faithful,
I am ever grateful,
For bliss, my heart won’t open.
 
She dreams of sweet ending,
My bell of guilt ringing,
Until her heart is broken.

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Hope

A pregnant woman rises in squalor, rubs her belly, smiles and says, “Hello! Mr. President”

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When I Hear the Sound of Red

Whenever I am passing by a stadium and
I hear, “Goal!” I think Red For I am a Fan
Of Manchester United.
The sound of a Gunshot tells me that
 Someone might have been shot and the Splatter of
 Red Thick Blood comes to mind.
When I hear people chatter	
About the annoying traffic situation,
The Image in my head is the red Traffic Light sign
That tells hurrying motorists to halt.
While driving home from work
My wife phones me to say she cooked some stew 
And the hunger in my head 
Makes me see the red tomato pasted liquid as I salivate
While holding on to the starring wheel six Kilometers to my home.
When my wife yells, “Rose’’, I wonder why 
She thinks the red flowers in the garden have ears
But the immediate response of 
My second daughter, Rose
Jogs my memory.
If someone asks me to make a comparison between England and America
I will surely remember that they both have red on their flags.
As pedestrian on the high-way, I hear a siren behind me
And before I turn I can feel the 
Blinking red light on top of the Vehicle behind.
When my wife says it is that time of the month when she has to
Wear pads, it is obvious that I can imagine 
The redness she yearns to conceal.
When one says we should go get tipsy
The taste of Red Wine reminds me of its dark red Thickness and Freshness.
When my kid tells me the remote of our decoder is no longer working
I imagine that he means the red light that blinks from its head 
Whenever one presses it,   blinks no more.
Ever since I saw my Albino friend just after he was slapped,
Whenever I hear a story of an Albino who is slapped,
I imagine the immediate redness on the side of the face affected.

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Mr Maxwell - a Cry of An Abused Maid

In the abode of a man with a heart of stone,
Out of Compassion, his spouse saved me from scraps and bone,
But by his hand I want to be left alone.

A domestic help I was meant to render,
But Mr. Maxwell’s eyes behind my back yearned for another,
Creeping at night into my room he sought my tender.

Protest to my mistress-his spouse I can’t, 
For to lose a job and fine rations I can’t,
And his forewarning wounded me like a treacherous ant.

How can a man be absent of conscience?
But in the eyes of his folks full of pretense
In between my legs I find his sense.

In the eyes of all he proclaims love for spouse,
Under my curtains at night he creeps in like a hungry mouse.
I crave for his absence but can’t leave his house.

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Before Last Night

Before last night she was my dream come through,
Everyday my affection incessantly grew,
My heart and hers poised to glue,
When with her I forgot my crew.

Before last night I had only kissed her,
And goose bumps graced me body-over,
The sound in my brain was that of a classic Opera,
Life with her had promised no disaster.

Before Last night our love was in express motion,
My friends thought I had taken a love portion,
Fools! what did they know about my emotion?
For this lady, to the wind I had thrown caution.

Alas! Last night in entirety she gave me her body,
My love for her thereafter appears rusty,
I now see she is not too far from ugly,
And she is not the only woman that could make me happy.

I wonder how all can change in one night,
While her love for me looked to reignite,
Mine for her fell from a Skyrocket to a Kite,
This morning, I feel I was blind and just regained my sight.

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The Wedding of My Dreams- Date: 4th of December, 2013

Walking side by side with the man who beget her,
Amidst veil-cover her face unleashed magnificent smile,
Meters close but she seemed away by a mile,
She took his lead down the aisle to the Alter.

As I stood awaiting my damsel,
I forgot it was December the twenty fifth.
I forgot our union was my yuletide gift.
I forgot that the relentless chime of the Christmas bell.

A thousand of my dreams met reality,
As the church’s Christmas trees, ribbons and bells magnified,
Our bond in the space of three years had intensified,
Amidst smile and tears we took the oaths and legalized the Chemistry.

Until that Christmas I had never kissed in another’s presence.
As the minister gave the command the congregation yearned,
I saw not the damsel I had known but my wife as I unveiled,
The sensation from the meeting of our lips with gracious essence.

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This Summer, Marry I Must

Papa said my beauty would make life better
For marry I must this summer
Or we shall continue to suffer.
Bride Price shall make my family richer.
But I am in a dilemma.
Sam is sweet but Jude is Richer
Papa would welcome either,
For Marry I must this summer

Faithful Jude adores me better.
Sam’s ego burns like fire
And this makes me bitter.
Sweet Jude stalks me like a beggar,
Wicked Sam is not much of a love giver,
And Marry I must this summer.
 
Alas! I know not why I love Sam better.
Maybe Sweet Jude is too much of a Lover,
Maybe Sam appears to be the worthier,
For he frets not about my beautiful aura
And is sanctified with the Ego of a deserving lover,
Sam I must marry this summer.


QUOTATION
When love is in excess it brings a man no honor nor worthiness.
Euripides, Medea, 431 B.C.
Greek tragic dramatist (484 BC - 406 BC)