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Saturday, 31 March 2012

I Just Saw Love

Everybody hurts sometimes 
Why, as love do bleed 
Everybody hurts sometimes 

You see, love is a notion with different strokes 
Different angles and viewing point 
Like a coin with two sides and a third 

With a side so familiar, to be drawn to 
"It is heads, heads, I know, heads!"
Well, well and we all choose over tails 

But in truth where reality is coined 
As the order of the day, awakened day dream 
"Wash your face, this is boot camp"

Just like an Ice berg 
The weight and size of endurance, like most 
With load, ends beneath the sea 

Dealing with the cold, realities of life
A friend once said with poignancy 
And realization after reality's knock 

"Truth is, love is going to hurt 
One just, have to find a subject
Worth suffering for and with "

The tail end, stands as to form 
Expect roses to always come with 
Thorns attached, that is where we hold 

Not the petal, dear, never the petal 
That is just to look at, admire and stare, smell 
And work hard to keep from dying 

Friday, 30 March 2012

Rolling Stone

Life is a rolling stone, in motion pictures 
Emotions harsh-tag, on attention seeking  

Time capsules with memory banks  
Milestone stages to gate crush, with ambition   

Decades as cue for change in characters played  
To out grow and be embarrassed about skeletons in closet 

Love and friendship is a complicated spanner of infatuation   
And need, thrown right in, in the way of  rolling stones   

Loneliness is a disease we try to avoid, best to avoid 
But sometimes we rather for piece of mind 

Yet as luck will have it, and humanity is conditioned  
Loneliness, seriously is a diseases best avoided 

We laugh, we cry, humour we call Irony and then rose cottages 
We are all tasked to live a life, rolling on, until we hit a stop 

Did I miss anything, anything to ponder 
Oh well, just rolling on by, as a rolling stone 

Thursday, 29 March 2012

Catching ego off guard

In every relationship, friends or otherwise 
Wise in saying, there comes a time, a low point 
We rather, forget about, on memory loss  

"Now, now, don't go digging up old wounds"
When lovers and partners  
Bid for the throat of the other, in fair war 

I would double my price on bid 
Just to have her neck, his neck, sat on a plater, 
To show victory to the world, I am victorious  

"God how did I end up with him
   God how did I end up with her"

And on and on, with the battle of the sexes and friendship 
With ego, sat at the front seat, eating cinema pop corns 
Drinking diluted coke, with false stickers saying diet 

Then out of the blue a friend, comes and shares
His/her problems with one, "a problem shared"
Oh, a problem shared to lesson the weight 

At a point where rational becomes your judgement call 
Giving you a step back to analyse without
Any chip on the table, to lose grounds 

Inevitably dear Deidre, looks in one's own mirror 
Putting things in context in comparison 
Catching ego off guard, to see the con of ego 

Who sat and watched a pirated movie 
Yet swears on demand, a refund is owed 
For poor quality on screens, me and my ego 

Who did you think you were fooling 
Egotistically, it's just me and my ego 
Stubbornly taking stands, me and my ego   

Tuesday, 27 March 2012

The best is

The best is yet to be 
The sun is yet to shine 
Spring is yet to blossom  

Teasers and trailers 
With brief introduction  
The best is yet to come, 

Hold on to your seat  
For the prequel to the sequel, 
In such exciting meets   

A single daffodil 
Is nice to look at, bless 
The best is yet to come 

But have you seen 
A park full, 
With bonanza 

Spread as far 
As the eye can see, 
The best is yet to come 

If fun and joy, 
Happiness is what you came for 
The best is yet to come 

If you believe in life 
As a magic of encounters 
Get yourself ready then, 

For the best is yet to come 
The best is yet to come 
The best is yet to come

Salty poop-corns 
Or that sugar coated 
The best is yet to come 

A seat at the front, 
Middle or well, well at the back
The best is yet to come 

Sunday, 25 March 2012

To smile back

In my hands in mirrors hold 
In my eyes reflection of life 
In my heart of joy to have  

In each eye corner stack, a twinkle 
I smile so dear, my heart so warm 
The spread so far and blemish spots 

Oh, but I like that which I see 
I so do, to you in the mirror 
Dear you, to love you back 

I love you back, I love you back 
For being just you to smile back 
Mirror mirror in my hands I love you back

Story story told

Stories, stories told 
How easy it could be in stories told 
To turn the white swan, black in stories told 

Faith is faithless, without me faithful
Without you trusting, I promise 
That I am faithful, I have been faithful 

And if you are to hear so
And so is said, by so,  with so interest 
And I am to say so, different in view point 

Which of the hear so, say so 
Would you be, saying so
That is the hear so, that you believe in 

The rest of the story, as the saying, saying goes   
Would just be whispers, heard of, sort of 
Dispersed through the grapevine, learnt of 

How to keep the white swan, faith is faithful 
A' the heart of romance from turning black 
Hear so, oh, in stories, stories told  

Saturday, 24 March 2012

Endurance of love

Drums rain beats of thunder 
Heart breathes, louder in your presence 
I endure, searching to have your love 

Seasons, seasons

A moment in time: seasons, what time in the day 
Does flowers blossom, sprang  
In spring to say I have come of age  
And my time is now, this is my moment  

I would be the brightest sparkle 
So soft on the eye and scented 
With aroma that drives birds 
And bees, butterflies and ladybirds  

To my nectar, I will be the essence 
Of romance and the cherry 
Of every celebrated occasion 
Blowing candles on cake  

I will mark laughter
I will mark joy
I will mark sorrow, for love lost 
I will mark remembrance, for dearly days 
A touch on petals, oh a touch to have on petals  
Will announce how delicate my heart is
Sensitive and in need of care 
And I will be ushered such care.  

Moments; what time in the day
Does a flower wither and fade
Is it announced with notice and count down
Is there a bell ring, on the hour to say

That, that time is here, that time is now.  
Does the sun find shade behind the moon 
To shadow its spots  light
As a sign of respect, at curtains call; moments 

Thursday, 22 March 2012

Weighted average

Could you be loved and be loved as a fixture   
Don't let them fool you with doubt  
Worst, don't fool yourself, without test  

No season relevant to weather the fields 
No sound louder than the one of thunder  
And to stand firm on wobbly grounds 

Hold form of faith when most tested 
Knowing this is the prime of seasons  
The test of resolve to honor a belief 

After this day, truly a case would have been made 
Never with doubt, to have a clause to contest 
No supreme court to have a final hearing 

Admiration of a hero, vetted with rigor  
To have served time, behind discomfort lines 
Held hostage of dreams, everything to lose

Ransom demanded, is full in fulfillment 
No compromise on trill, no shortcuts and favors 
Tailored jigsaw puzzle piece, with perfection to fit 

Could you be loved as a fixture, for the course you stood for
The sacrifice you made, for your name, for your sweat 
Or just for the glory you bring, and be loved 

Sculpture by : Mitchell House 

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

The parallel universe

I have a shadow that walks beside me in mirror's reflection close 
It springs to mind, ideologies of questions, aptitude  
of thought, intriguing of concepts, "what of the other world"  

Parallel universe springs up notions 
Something scentific worlds away 
In a distant land, possibly out of space, in space 

In  another universe, another milky-way 
And far beyond, in a storyville 
Once upon a time, in a distance land 

Or maybe ghost and life after death 
Occupying shadows of wall corners 
Whispering cold in areas, static energy being read 

But close to the chap, down the road 
Looking on, as another holds to court 
Pleasantry with affluence, oh boy 

The concept of the parallel universe 
Like heaven and hell, as so often 
Debated, heard on the grapevine 

Is right here on earth, the haves, haves 
And the have not, street lights and post codes  
Shadows on the other side  

Monday, 19 March 2012

What is your value

Rarity, holds novelty for high value 
For at the source, where made 
Abundance of mineral and the like 

As with the mines and the like 
One can not expect the highest price 
For the sale of his golden egg and the like

When all others come around with similar
In hand, bearing the same, in hand 
Come on now,  with armature, what do you expect 

And the most descent of men 
And the most loved of women 
Would be a fool to pay over the odds, for ordinary 

Astute sense, sits at the prowess of seats 
Where value added, diligent is composite 
To price, to be expected and the like

And the like, saying that distance adds value 
Uniqueness with craft, adds value 
Or just sat firm on stock  speculating 

However  for commerce at its best and all others 
Know the buyer is almost always with conditions 
Forget the faces of the middle men, with luring smiles 

Stood but a distance away from price premium 
Expecting craft and craftsmanship as add-ons
With value, to make a buck, or win you over 

One can not expect the Queen 
To wear an uncut diamond, what of nurture to cherish
After all novelty has it's own value to have 

Sunday, 18 March 2012

Just being honest

I am far, far from perfect 
I shiver in my sleepless night 
My thoughts hold weights, trembling fear 

Heavier than my neck can withstand 
They rage, rage, rage, internal bleed 
Knocking dents in my skull 

I panic and fear what the future holds 
Failure plays, replay on projected walls 
Nightmarish images being portrayed  

While I am tied to seats to watch 
Vivid from start to finish, sweat buckets 
And heart beats, I hate horror movies 

Vertigo loves to watch me like a bully 
On play grounds. I am forgetful of names 
Words and spelling too, sometimes  

All that aside, my faith holds greatness, destined 
With my name inscribed on the machinery beneath
I am human, far, far, far from perfect 

How different are you from me, malfunctions  
In reflection mirrors, portrayed, adjustments 
When being honest, just being honest, to  fix, to fix 

Saturday, 17 March 2012

What is blue

Conception of  color meaning it holds   
Nurses uniform, veins, sky, ocean, emotion, blue 
Or beautiful marble in space odyssey stand 

What is poetry to a poet

I hang on a cliff  edge wanting to let go 
And holding firm to draw so tight, my life 
I would not let go of grip to fall 

I yearn to unload these thoughts 
They sit with burst on my mind 
Begging to come out and be heard 

Read, noted, examined, re-examined 
And be understood in context by so few 
The rest just blaspheme, leave them out  

Though in the same light, lone candles, shadows of day 
I fear what would manifest out on paper like scripture 
When I open these taps of my mind to draw fluid thoughts

What is poetry to a poet I ponder 
An open book, abstract dairy of  the very private 
Or creativity with words from the subconscious  

Half the time I am at a loss to know 
Half the time I wonder if writings hold any meaning 
What is poetry to a poet, yet each time I write, I write    

Friday, 16 March 2012

M.anifest - suffer (good music from Ghana)

Blitz the Ambassador ft Corneille (Best I can) (Native Sun)

Enjoy and share

Repetition is a skill

Repetition is the better use of the word 
A phrase in time, in time, at a time and again 
For effect, at a time, at a time, ask Andy Warhol 

Patterns, being that, saying that 
Knowing that, as it stands that 
Recycled at a time, each time, in time 

And nature does not opt out of this excitement 
With leaves, and flowers repeated in sequence 
With zebras, and giraffe, tigers and crocks  

Cliche is a posh word with snobbish nose 
On steroids of hippocracy  
Seeping tea, in china cups, "whatever!"

One may say, one may do, one may say 
Does one know, that one may say 
Indeed one may say, "merci"

For enlightenment, of this much, as much, for much 
Use of the word this much as one may use
Indeed one may say, repetition is the mother of skill 

As in being that repetitive is a better use of 
A word, a phrase, a line or two at a time, and again 
It works in poetry one may say, why not if it works well 

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Perfection of Art

An artist would never call a master piece perfect 
Guess that is why death adds  more value 
For the biggest critique is finally put to rest 

Much in a rush to hang or publish, I am not done yet 
Hold on, a little tweak here said Brown Ford Madox 
A little tweak there, a little, a little, a little more for the "Hayfield" 

And with each time seen in new light 
A little more, a little more, tweak here 
Have a little tweak there 

How can one call this a masterpiece 
Oh no, no, no, no, a little tweak here is needed indeed
A' w'h each time, in new light, a little more, a little more

Guess that is why, death adds more value 
With the put down to rest of the biggest critique 
A little more here, a little more tweak, tweak, tweak

He haunts the work, each time in new light
Adjusting verses, ryhmes and brush strokes
To tweak, tweak to perfection, old Ford Brown does

Painting by Ford Madox Brown

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

The Laughing Therapy

A baffle(d) encounter with Buddha 
The laughing therapist 
What did this cat, hear so funny,  I missed 

The joke is on me, the joke is on me 
I walked by a park in the middle of spring 
With birds in trees, sat in nests, happily singing 

I came across a group of elegant middle-class homo-sapiens 
On their backs, a belly full of laughter 
Laughing out loud; jokes, jokes, I like a good joke  

What was the joke, I asked with excitement 
No joke, was the reply "this is a laughing therapy
Fair enough I said, again I asked what was the joke 

Lets hear it out, I like a good laugh 
I am all for a good laugh, just give me the punch line 
"No joke my fellow homo sapien, just a laugh"

Just a laugh? "its just a laugh" negate a joke 
I wondered, have I slept and missed 
The great evolution of man, was the joke on me 

For I can not, laugh, without hearing something funny 
I can not laugh without seeing something funny 
Come on what is the joke, I like a good joke, a tickle would do 

Modern day hysteria, how could I have missed such leap 
Such great evolution and be left standing over a bunch 
Of homo-sapiens, with yoga mats, on the park laughing 

Guess the joke is on me, the joke is on me 
"No joke", the joke is on me, now that's a punch line 
I could hear the birds  a belly full of chatter, jokers with laughter 

The joke is on me   
Well, wait until the cat gets you, birdy, birdy
Then I would have my laughing therapy 

Also shared with http://www.threewordwednesday.com/ 

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

The Beach Calls

This is why I have to get to the beach 
Sand between my toes on a sunny day 
Sea washed stones, sea shells, sea weed grappling     

Sea breeze embracing my skin to freshen my face 
Little crabs digging out the sand for treasures lost 
Gently, gently the waves comes in and out on applause 

And a thousand angels sing with the waves like church choir  
Each time, each time it comes in to shore from voyage 
To calm my soul, such soothing feeling, therapeutic  

This is why I have to get to the beach 
This is why I have to get to the beach 
Oh, this is why I have to get to the beach 

Monday, 12 March 2012

Coming off Mother's milk

Life is like poetry; winds blows feathers  
Freely to the heavens weightless, with no 
Bound of gravity, come fly with me, and fly with me 

Lets feel free, and be free and see this here earth 
As the paradise, that was promised to thee 
When we were young angelic and blissfully blessed  

That landed us into the joyful  gardens of Eden 
Where feathers fly  and weight is weightless 
And the golden sun, creams the land every night at sunset 

Why are all children's poems, rhymes and stories so dark 
Red ridding hood, Humpty dumpty, Pop goes the weasel 
Mary, Mary quite contrary, Sing a song of sixpence 

Have you ever seen the sight, in plain sight
Of a falling angel, dropped by eviction 
From the garden of Eden, like meteorites fall 

The drag me down of feathers wet
With chains by gravity, of living with reality 
Back to earth so fast, absent of golden parachutes 

I guess abstract in some ways, hidden codes
Long before adulthood as children 
In the garden of Eden, in playful grounds  

We were taught with nursery rhymes 
Poems and stories, like old Mother Hubbard, a' Jack and Jill 
To know how dark  and complex the world can be 

But to see a falling angel and feathers with gravity so strong
And have meaning of such hidden codes, in nusery rhymes
Wait until you come off Mother's milk. 


Sunday, 11 March 2012

Sleep, Dreams and Visions

Spins and shadows in my sleep 
I see through visions in my dream 
Visualized  images moving close  

In the forest, loud of lone darkness 
In the woods where birds sing mute 
In the trees of blurred visions 

In a place where my screams are held silent 
In a place where my hands a' legs are tied down 
In a place, in a world of  sensation bizarre 

In shadows, I see in the distance approaching  
In characters so familiar, I see with scare 
Spin, spin, spin visions, then suddenly I wake up

Not knowing who or what it was 
And then suddenly I wake up from sleep 
Seeing spins and shadows in my visions of dream 

Life: Illusion of slow

Life is like a fast train, with illusions of slow  
Suspended reality, moving each time, pace on tracks  
Mount on junction stops of occasion, at a time "journey

Stop signs missed, while in depth with obstruction  
A book, an iPhone, an iPad, a walk-man  
Something else, to keep one occupied 

Where dismount is not made, missed  
On nonstop junctions, passed  by
Thus otherwise engaged, on "do not disturb"  

One could easily be forgiven, with illusion of time  
For thinking such marks, spots of stops   
Has not been reached yet "are we there yet".  

Life is a rain storm out at sea  
Void of hurricanes, with visual effect, means few see
Its impact on cause, awaiting floods "katrina"

Slowly claiming low lying lands, like raising tied 
Until such time, when such lands, fall beneath sea levels 
No one sees that, life is an illusion of  slow, "fast impacting"   

Life is like a fast train with illusions of slow 
Age mounts, marks a calender, one at a time 
Events, tick boxes on occasion at a time "we observe"  

Until such time, on look back memories
When acts, seems so far back, in time and all look aged 
Life is like a fast train with illusions of slow "flash with time"

Saturday, 10 March 2012

Steps blessing bliss

Innocent lights bright 
Imagery invisible friends I have  
My childhood steps in bliss 

Lighthouse Dimming Light

Lighthouse with dimming lights  
People and places, lonely candles 
Memories and scents, that came to me 

It is said that memory is a foreign country 
I visited once upon a time and a place 
On voyage, through time that stood out 

How many faces would I see in my life time 
If I am to average 75 calenders on this earth 
How many would stick and be known 

And have the rest as grains in their millions  
Blurred like speeding lights on highways  
Absent at the gates of my memory box 

But the few that became a part of my memory 
Held firm their place to stand like a lighthouse 
Just a thought brings up faces, they hold 

Dim lights, I just heard you passed away, dim light 
One of my lighthouses just went dim, lonely candles 
A grain that found a face in my memory is gone to rest 

Friday, 9 March 2012

My human condition

Exhaustion has got a grip on my human condition
My soul calls out on S.O.S. I will lie and burden sleep
For repatriation from t' front line, to sleep and be human again
Exhaustion has got a grip on my human condition

My blood is boiling, my heart is running, my head is spinning  
My eyes are popping, my soul calls out for repatriation
Exhaustion has got a grip on my human condition
My soul calls out on S.O.S. I will lie and burden sleep

Triolets prompt by dverse: http://dversepoets.com

Thursday, 8 March 2012

Ideas of the chef and dead brain

An unused idea is like a fridge 
Full of food ingredients, meat and stuff  
Where is the chef, where is the chef” 
Fermented with mould even in chill, like cheese 

A cupboard full of spices, spices cabinet 
Have you seen the chef” 
That lives to see their expiry date 
Still sat in avenues occupying space 

With novelty value, like white elephants 
On a grand stand to be polished 
In corridors of  Buckingham with banquet” 
While logs sit on forest floors 

Which gives failure a better stand 
In the stakes of  greatness podium 
For failure was a step closer 
I just burnt the steak, where is the chef” 

And where breath is still with life 
It serves as an opportunity 
To forge ahead with lessons learnt 
Was it rare, medium rare or well done

An unused idea, might as well
Lie in coffins to be buried or cremated 
Like a dead brain and it's host 
Come now, last orders out” 

NB: Read the two poems separately after to get the idea 

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Private Access: Blue Sky

The sky is blue and bright 
With dotted clouds around as spectrum  
Every where you stand to look 

The sky is blue and bright 
On the five continents 
And the scattered islands on earth 

On the highest mountains peak 
And the lowest valleys  on earth 
The sky is blue and bright 

The sky is blue and bright 
And man has not yet found ways 
To price such beauty to restrict access 

Like private parks with locked up gates 
In Belgrave Square, in London town 
Where still the sky is blue and bright 

Surrounded by ironic Embassies 
Who plot their flags as representatives 
And share fobs with the elite in private parks 

Where the commoner is kept at bay  
The sky is blue and bright 
Anywhere on earth you stand to look

Man has not yet found ways and measures 
A strategy defined to segregate such privilege 
So anywhere on earth you stand the sky is blue 

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