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Ibok Ibok Poem
Stop thy mutterings, O Poet and send your verses to exile,
Night and day are bonded together in a chain of calendar,
Shades and colours of twilight dance to imageless rapture.
Endless fretful hours unveil
That sky is somewhere beyond distant thunder,
Horizon is vanished, nowhere to find,
Air is drowned in foggy bind
For a restive spirit to wonder.
The blood in veins flow
Soundless like the cold autumn dew,
And trembling inside the heart grew few,
As there are no images to glow.
Soul seeks shelter in solitude away from the crowd,
Thoughts do not spread wings to fly.
The meadow without horizon beneath the sky
A quiet place for any poetic verses to be abound.
Copyright © Ibok Ibok | Year Posted 2015
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Ibok Ibok Poem
Beneath the bushes and under the lemon tree
Little greenish sparkles of light
Flare out time and again with glee
When the sun goes down in the night.
Oh, its the willows!
Happily dancing and floating in the wind
Lighting up with little glows
When the garden is in the dark and blind.
Little bloops lighting a moment and disappearing in the next from bush to bush
A delightful wonder to watch
Glowing and then fleeing without a bush
When one tries to touch.
Its a game of hide and seek
That the willows play at night
And not a magician’s trick
And a beauty to wonder with delight.
The milky way of the sky with wide eye
Watches the game the willows play
As the little flares of light fly
From tree to tree, happy and gay.
All through the night the willows
Spread their wings and flutter from leaf to leaf
And when the dawn approaches with soft and mellowing glows
The stars and the willows disappear and go to sleep.
Copyright © Ibok Ibok | Year Posted 2015
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Ibok Ibok Poem
In the afternoon sitting on my window
Was a beauty - a little sparrow.
It was not red or yellow, but grayish wooden pink
Its eyes were wide with a naughty wink
When I did not pay any attention he stole a peep
And called out with a shrill bleep, bleep.
Copyright © Ibok Ibok | Year Posted 2015
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