The Poet in the Poem

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The Poet in the Poem Page 2

by Yas Niger


  Chapter 2: Of the heart

  The conscience ever tells a fact,

  As sure as it is of the heart.

  GONE

  They are all gone,

  I only heard how.

  Made me the home

  That I have now.

  They met my sun

  At its very dawn.

  Made day my own,

  As their night’s done.

  They are all gone,

  I saw them all go.

  Where they’re borne

  I will come to know.

  CHOICES

  Winning ways sought

  Speak for their sort.

  In their earliest thought

  They very often do not.

  From many we choose

  With lots more to loose

  And in all this huge fuss

  We thrive more confused.

  So with cares of lusts

  We live out their costs.

  In picking from lots

  Best chances are still lost.

  PATIENCE

  The wait’s lone stance eats away

  And slowly wears away hope’s ray.

  Such that peace wrecks pride’s ego

  Making patience the victor long ago.

  FRIENDS CHANGE

  Only those true friends,

  Because they know you

  Would dare tickle you.

  All friendships do end

  As time will all change;

  For time is itself change.

  THIS QUEER ODE

  Our waltz soothe this blindness

  We have suffered as we yearn

  For this same blank happiness

  That managed all our concerns.

  What force carries us onwards;

  Fair to our sole wish to love,

  Grills our oneness real hard;

  That its aroma is sensed above.

  That urge we often fear to fight,

  Chokes us with its vague numb.

  And with time simply waited out,

  To our worldly ties we do succumb.

  TEMPESTUOUS TRANQUILITY

  The wisdom in every beauty

  Is not buried within its scenery,

  For its goodness and overt sincerity

  Consoles every form of misery

  And looses every kind of enmity,

  To love its sheer sight and merry.

  THIS FEAR OF JOY

  Bleeding trees don’t all die.

  Into our lives a lot will pry.

  The driest seed will germinate,

  Its pains would compensate.

  All leaves die, dry and fall,

  Surely will those today so tall.

  The little shoots rises we know,

  So will all small people grow.

  Every growing bud has its own day,

  Eluding this fear of joy is our way.

  WHERE’S MY WOMAN?

  With the dreams of many

  Mine wrestled so bravely.

  Amidst hopes so sunny,

  They tussle aimlessly.

  She stood aside alone

  With hands akimbo.

  Beckoning even a stone,

  A sight commanding a bow.

  Humming emotional tunes;

  Singled out, isolated wishes.

  All engulfed in fumes,

  Little hope for securing stitches.

  Her hairs say her preference;

  Tailing behind as Medusa’s crown.

  Her aim in her appearance

  As everyday she’s a lighter brown.

  The immorality in fantasies,

  The emptiness in smiles

  As hearts create vacancies;

  Hopes dumped in closed files.

  It’s bottled up inside her;

  The pain of another way.

  She is sincere and only prefer,

  That’s all she ever will say.

  In those eyes that speak

  Darkness glows from hidden fears.

  The wait’s companion at its peak,

  Yet she wouldn’t let the tears.

  From mountains of selfish pride

  Falls many years of knowledge

  And it’s all been only a ride

  That’s almost at existence’s verge.

  Wanting what’s not given

  So much that it hurts a lot.

  Shy but ever once beaten,

  It’s in these fears we’re caught.

  So short ago the smiles spoke,

  Or so I thought in my indifference.

  Hearts appeared immune to a poke,

  Like empty bags in conference.

  The affection wasn’t a mirage,

  Probably the marriage was.

  But the rage in this cage;

  Experience defeatingly shall pass.

  She isn’t standing with me,

  Claiming as I do, to be the man.

  Her attitude mails nothing I see,

  Then where is she, the woman?

  LIL’ SIM

  Sim played ‘a lil’ house’

  On the Muddy’s bank.

  Then came a lil’ mouse

  And Sim’s skin shrank.

  Sim slipped and fell,

  Splash into the Muddy.

  Soon lil’ Sim could tell

  To swim is so hardy.

  Lil’ Sim so drank

  The bad muddy water.

  As her tiny head sank

  No one saw Sim later.

  Where lil’ Sim will be

  Clothes are not clean,

  Eyes dark as night be,

  They eat no lil’ bean.

  O lil’ Sim’s friends

  Don’t you wish her here?

  Warm beds and story ends,

  Like all here who hear.

  WOULDN’T IT

  Be great to look and see, and just let as it all be.

  Do what could and should, with no reserves for would.

  Note the horizons as set, to appreciate as they let.

  When death does make lone; to say yes! It is all done.

  LOVE’S LOVE

  This isn’t the story of our wives;

  With each and all we share life,

  Parting and bridging as we leave.

  Each and all of us is this thief.

  We lead with all emotions canal,

  Lustily wanting all just temporal.

  For we only tell from the external;

  Wishing, hoping it is so internal.

  Rolled in next is the nature,

  The feelings growing to mature.

  We regard or discard a culture

  To marry dreams, make a future.

  The investments yield their sanity,

  Our character tests its immunity.

  The lucky are in blissful humility,

  Off springing, living, fostering humanity.

  Measurement elude even more less,

  For all other lust is meaningless.

  Finally, love rules all the featureless,

  Together we die till eternity endless.

  YOUNG AGAIN

  You are only young once,

  Blossomed to take your chance;

  To scent the world’s spring

  With the fruit kinds you bring.

  IDOLS

  The patience of man

  Had over many ages

  Given to his own land

  Births of many images.

  It has made gods

  Of so many symbols;

  Earthly made rods,

  Also celestial balls.

  In his long wait

  His patience creates

  Answers that relate

  Only to his state.

  The clouds of reason

  Cover his horizons;

  Make a sky season,

  Or mystic masons.

  Sight is so deceptive

  That it can tilt a view,

  Halo any perspective

  With inspired preview.


  Man looks around

  And sees such beauty,

  Beyond any he found

  Or his own humanity.

  In his natural urge

  He pays respects to

  Visions and courage,

  Where honour isn’t due.

  In his all human way,

  He puts faith in those

  He comprehends’ll stay;

  Idolizing his very nose.

  MONEY AND THE MISER

  “Spend me! You miserable clot,

  So I can travel, visit and just be.

  Have I not uplifted all your lot

  With my coming and swelling sea?”

  “Ha! See what is talking here;

  Another creation grown astray.

  Has making you collect near

  Lost its purpose as any way?”

  “I have existed so long before,

  Making many, long before you.

  Hadn’t my might sown more

  Fright in you than you’ll rue?”

  “My fear of you doesn’t keep,

  That is why you I do amass.

  How trivial your might heap

  Just like any furniture was?”

  “I taste the air men breathe,

  Inhaled in its life and gasped.

  Hasn’t the ease I could knit

  Warm skeletons all trapped?”

  “I don’t lodge or host guests

  And don’t burden any to host.

  Haven’t I seen your requests

  Send errands until they’re lost?”

  “I plunge in a lake all humble,

  Help will come and does drown.

  Had not man’s urge so trouble

  His lust for his own crown?”

  “Then I’ve unraveled your plot,

  So with me you’re ever sunk.

  I’ll keep man’s own twin clot.

  After all, aren’t you precious junk?”

  DÉJÀ VU

  They always return like it’s shown,

  Somehow better, on their very own.

  When they were nothing, they knew.

  And as they were begotten, they threw.

  Just like such was predestined,

  Man’s priorities shifts ascertained.

  It was seen and again it will be,

  Like again repeats all tides at sea.

  They’ve always forgotten man feeds

  Just like water kills and still it breeds.

  SINGLED OUT

  Found out amidst the threshing stones,

  Sort out of the cupboard of bones.

  Where the situation was doctored

  Fell out that one not to be mastered.

  Revenge consumes like any fire

  And depends on sentimental air.

  An action sought to set any aside

  Is vengeful if reason and sense coincide.

  When anybody is singled out

  The stone-casters dance about,

  Exposing ignorance and malice;

  Ironically with the drummer’s piece.

  THE SPOUSE OF SENTIMENTS

  Daddy smiled and coughed light,

  Understanding my explained plight.

  Men are lonely and they know,

  Yet they conspire not to let show.

  These women are assisted all through

  By their very own sex, unlike you.

  Firstly by mothers or sisters, then peers.

  All thrust, show or coax their shares.

  Ladies understand the bodies’ world well

  As they grow so guided, you can tell.

  The boy discovers on his very own.

  And thus, what he finds is his fun.

  MONARCH

  From the high trees in Mexico;

  On the way back to this Mexico,

  The great-grand Monarch will stir

  As she, this same time and there

  Starts a migration of off-springs

  At times winters meets springs.

  In flight onto the vastness of Texas,

  They will briefly settle in Texas;

  As did cows, boys and their wives,

  Like an established glow of life’s.

  Waving cloud of flickering beauty,

  Floating yellow specks, so mighty.

  The first generation will here pupa,

  Here crops feed and protect proper.

  Well fed, they cover up and mutate.

  These Milk-weeds they do cultivate

  Dictates their site, flight and path;

  After it, the caterpillars had sought.

  Another generation is alone and going,

  Together following meals and dying.

  Onward northeast with their destiny,

  Eighty kilometers a day their mystery.

  Their next route only goes on forth;

  The generation that returns is fourth.

  They had congregated in far Canada,

  This generation is journey harder.

  Their numbers much as to boast,

  As they wait out storms at the coast.

  At last in the Augusts’ clear season,

  They sprint four thousand miles of ocean.

  If Human restlessness keeps its place,

  Together like they left this place;

  With earth where it was again in orbit

  And nature its only possible culprit,

  Southwest this living cloud always returns,

  To the same trees the Monarch returns.

  TALL DREAM

  Closed eyes clasp the warm darkness,

  Shutting out the silvery glow of the moon smile.

  The cantata contest invade with its happiness,

  Carrying all in the still air of the mating mile.

  Oh how simple the peace of this revelry,

  The mind and ears wonder the vastness of it all.

  Clinging on sanity with man’s overt mystery,

  Wishing all love melts into this dream so tall.

  WIDOWED DREAMS

  What claims have dreams, each on its scale?

  One solemn day they all see and they fail;

  The egg they lay carries another’s shell.

  Thank goodness for a glance at posh’s hell,

  When lust toyed with life’s curtains’ rail;

  Behold the widowed dreams yet trail.

  FEVER

  Through eventful years the sticks ever pile,

  Hopes with the trunk that vomits emptiness.

  The mighty broom swept so long a mile,

  Still dirt abounds as its proud fruitfulness.

  Mourning tears leave this feeling of numbness.

  Eras of evolution has not changed the egg,

  The needs of man same and ever will be so.

  Maybe a broom will kill lizards on a clay keg

  And not break it too like the stick did before.

  In this concoction only soluble particles’ temperatures soar.

  Promise of the lands are all pointing,

  Yet the future is hot food in the mouth.

  Bodies buried and alive, had and are, waited and waiting,

  For the joy in swallowing and satisfaction they sought.

  Over hard filled years waiters without appetite rot.

  The dogs in this story are the traitorous pigs,

  Their patriotism is fake like sweeping grains with a rake.

  Locusts that plunder the field leaving tiny dry twigs,

  Their determined whispers stir reasoning ideally fake;

  These dishonourable gentle heads that ache.

  The locusts ate the grains, the rake wasted the rest.

  The broom was left so little in its fold.

  In this farm, pigs serve dogs for it’s their best.

  The egg will likely shatter in hands that shouldn’t hold.

  They chest indifferently the agony of the rest in the cold.

  WILLS OF WISHES

  She is an old village;

  Naïve, crude, no
t low in age.

  She understood very little,

  Wasn’t sure if trust was so simple.

  From the refined distance he came;

  With strength he showed his shame.

  With feeble resistance she succumbed

  And all that’s hers he well combed.

  Because she paid well he kept her

  And married her from leagues afar.

  She never nodded or was asked

  But remained his and tasked.

  They got a son after a while;

  The bastard was proud in his smile.

  With time he knew mother and father

  And truly had cause for bother.

  Claiming justice the father withdrew,

  His loyal son he let rule like he knew.

  The complication wasn’t at first obvious.

  As time tells, it also is very envious.

  The mother weeps for her dear son,

  For the father has the whole person.

  Their bastard is what he knows

  And in this nature all does grows.

  Tomorrow’s sunsets come inevitably,

  Carrying vague identity’s loyalties happily.

  Nursing dreams of his father’s riches;

  Their bastard made wills of wishes.

  STRENGTH OF A WOMAN

  Where is the bird that hatched this egg?

  Flying above the world, up so very high.

  And the monkey the farmer wouldn’t beg?

  Laughing up a branch, he threatens not near.

  Will they ever marry their ideas, so very big?

  As always they steal, flock, eat and do share.

  Flying above the world, up so very high,

  The bird still returns down to hatch its egg.

  Laughing away harmless threats if not near,

  The monkey’s hunger for the farm will beg.

  Their ideas created their world and it is clear,

  That strength of the woman gave marriage a leg.

  FIRST PAIN

  When I felt it happen too;

  Like I heard and saw it too.

  I died that day that I knew;

  I was just me and not new.

  Then alive I sprout out again;

  Living as all do, after their first pain.

  HEART DIES LAST

  Where is life? If you may ask;

  Not numbed by faith’s old task.

  Is it with living body or wise mind,

  In fountained heart or soul to find?

  LOVE BIRDS

  Two birds perch on a tree;

  One a he, the other a she.

  Like any such human couple,

  They couple into love’s trouble.

  They take off into the sky,

  Together dancing as they fly.

  Like the early romance,

  So full of sweet substance.

  Returning to a common nest

  Gives stability, if not rest.

  Like marriage does at a stage,

  With emotions and with age.

  When they’re off in the sky,

  In opposite singles they fly.

  Like your everyday spouses;

  Submerged in life’s sauces,

  Then one bird perches alone,

  Anyone of the birds on its own.

  Like any spouse takes its turn

  To wait the other’s solo run.

  When the other bird is back,

  With a petal tuck in its beak;

  Like its partner it will find

  Its affection swallows its kind.

  TEMPERAMENTS OF THE SEASONS

  It must be the first, like the light;

  Sunny rising summer, all so bright.

  The height of the moods pick its reign

  When the temperament is sanguine.

  The confidence predominates over all,

  Its bloodied florid hopelessness stands tall.

  Then in that order sets in depreciation;

  With bare windy Autumn’s desperation.

  A sluggish retrogressive mood, so apathetic;

  Displays the temperament as phlegmatic.

  The unexcitable disposition throws up its palms;

  Receive unemotional bleakness that never calms.

  With the mood at its least hopeful state,

  Gloomy winter’s horizons hide living fate.

  The sad presentation of it is so symbolic,

  Revealing a temperament so melancholic.

  Its mournful dejected air doesn’t let out

  That around the corner linger what its about.

  Its about life going on, resurfacing yet again;

  Like spring returns to mellow out the pain.

  The tasty fruits of a weather so irascible,

  Its passionate choleric temperament is unstable.

  Speaks volumes of man being never mature

  And how he resembles the seasons in nature.

  THE EPIC OF BAMAGUJE

  The tale

  Myth tales of great Bayajidda

  The stories’ author of all Hausa

  He trophied a serpent in Daura

  Which made thirst of their well

  And married their crown bearer

  Prince of mighty Baghdad

  City of the most sacred race

  Fleeing his so furious father

  Across the vast dry expanse

  Like a worm he left a trace

  Bastards ever begat bastards

  This prince did have fourteen

  With the crown he had seven

  And with loose maids another

  All formed lands legitimate or not

  With a faith embraced in force

  The tale sought to erase history

  Legitimizing its apt ascension

  Without due regards to facts

  Either traditional or customary

  Tales the child tells his peers

  After he has compared origins

  That pride and great honour

  Like Ishmael’s became a nation

  And the swords crossed palms

  The truth

  Driven on downwards earlier

  Off northern homes by Berbers

  In flight also they meet Tuaregs

  Brought together in their fear

  Two races like fated and destined

  Much time of harmonious peace

  The races naturally yoked here

  As they settled to live and bred

  Their half-castes knew ease

  And such a mere life they led

  Traditional in past and faith

  Makeri of so great a repute

  Islam’s sword left its sheath

  And a mere life was made mute

  So became the land and its

  Ashamed of all its culture

  That the sacred didn’t nurture

  Hiding from all the nights

  And clinging on rootless future

  Denied are all that is right

  Sons of the soil, Bamaguje

  You breathe this land and its

  Homeless children, Bahaushe

  The stench of you is too real

  But Bamaguje is the Bahaushe

  GOLD AND SILVER

  Heat maketh we both;

  Rich soil’s own waste.

  Woke us to its breath

  To breed it and eat.

  The furnace is bold

  To have and to Gold,

  Mere crucible to hold

  Silver crusts it fold.

  Stallion run over care,

  Strife lil’ earthen mare.

  What stages we share

  Sow values not fair.

  FOR THE GOOSE, FOR THE GANDER

  Truly men are all these;

  Gamine and very equal.

  Same flock, like geese;

  Gracile, fat, low or tall.

  Man envies other fauna’s

  So ordered chauvinism;

  Governing sexes’ manners, />
  Which he lost to pessimism.

  His most domesticated flora

  Flowers in care and abuses,

  Beyond its feminine aura;

  Winning just as he looses.

  The good old Goose

  Lost her lone Gander.

  Proud-less of her loss,

  Matured beyond order.

  Living with only them,

  By the hedges they grew.

  For that edge over them,

  He still says, ‘Grâce â Dieu!’

  NIGHTLY

  Black like blind,

  Silent as the mind.

  Faith is in the act

  And not in the pact.

  Early all the time,

  Always in its prime.

  The sights are blind,

  At night we all find.

  So in their prime,

  The nights of time;

  Whiter though blind,

  Says what is to find.

  In whirls of a mind;

  Never there to find,

  Nights sure as time

  Are safe for to pine.

  PESSIMUM

  People loose their own mark,

  Showing off what they lack.

  Each time brings its fear to us

  And it shows in our every fuss.

  Ours is made just as real,

  That is not just how it feel.

  For in giving what we have,

  We only take like we gave.

  Never really asking for trust,

  For we do know what it cost.

  Desire should make a picture

  That should show its future.

  AND THE MOTHER DIED

  A strong gust of air blew

  And twin curtains withdrew.

  Float horizontally in mid-air,

  Like Angles’ wings would pair.

  The mother walked in her peace,

  Embodied in that first brief glimpse

  From within a curtained covering;

  Into our world an Angle steps in.

  Unique as, loving every person;

  Everyone passes her tests’ reason.

  Saw goodness, polished badness;

  Her large heart sought happiness.

  This world her one own family,

  Which will see her out, sadly.

  Her motherhood a duty not a task,

  In her circumstances that lack.

  A right for which she had fought,

  Is her motherhood in every breath.

  She lost physical battles down here,

  But won the war with years to spear.

  Then she had cancer and died,

  Joining all those from us deaths hide.

  The victor hasn’t yet flourished

  When his vanquished all perished.

  Death can only but surely lose,

  Yet the fear of him we choose.

  He doesn’t get the peace we see.

  Then what really, really has he?

  He can’t keep us as ornaments,

  Passing for the briefest moments.

  His power ends where it starts,

  Coming and going, never ever lasts.

  He reveals two very key lessons

  In this very life for all persons;

  Where lies a life there are lies

  And all roads to a same place plies.

  It is really true then and no fuss;

  God sends his Angles amongst us,

  Takes them when he misses them,

  Out of a world that cherishes them.

  STILL IT IS LOVE

  Plucked feathers litter the cage of marriage

  Like dead leaves beneath all family trees.

  Age’s breeze stirs their lightness in rage,

  Exposing the polygamy in love to its knees.

  Once tender leaves dry and carpet a shadow,

  Every chicken’s bastard is seen so real.

  The spouse’s love remains a wife’s sorrow;

  To acknowledge its still love, love is still.

  WHAT LOVE

  Lived a time solo

  In anywhere hollow.

  Leaps to go further,

  Crawls as any other.

  Grows into time,

  Ripe for one crime.

  The only one ever

  And it’s done forever.

  Into sight steps

  Love and it helps.

  For common quests

  Meet there guests.

  Legs scratch creak

  And mate a pick.

  Love only matter

  And don’t murder.

  After that instance

  Breed will enhance.

  Death is all healed

  As the mate mealed.

  For one love act

  Fed nature’s pact.

  The only one ever

  And again never.

  SOMEBODY’S FOOL

  Tomorrow came, sun shining.

  Yesterday left with its dining.

  Readied for the certain raining

  And aged by much experiencing.

  Yet very much the stone in a pool,

  For everyone is someone else’s fool.

  PRESSURE

  Not this push’s cure to be read,

  Bought or however with all science.

  Sought o’er but never had,

  Thought never bore its conscience.

  Brought ever near and sad,

  Doubt never the lurking consequence.

  Fought only to severe till mad,

  Naught all to sever its laid sequence.

  Caught ever, history has said.

  Though ever pinches, it is all nonsense.

  SHEEP TO GOAT

  Sheepish dumb, eating schooled.

  Shaggy wool worn; looks the fooled.

  Simply gentle and calm for sure.

  Story of yours is for the pure.

  Sovereign lord wished no more.

  Goatee presence, ever the sharp.

  Greedy, parentless, adorable chap.

  Goody oh, all lively and bold.

  Gullible sexist, rearing coined gold.

  God must’ve let off your hold.

  EGGS

  Of all the eggs man hatches,

  Bred chicken’s he most matches.

  To have laid and consume such;

  Grow, yield or still change much.

  None knowing its own whence

  Or where’s much timely when.

  Unlike its master whose knives

  Pick off its yet feathered lives;

  It has no say in what brings

  The very end of all things.

  RUNNING CHILD

  Child, I love you so

  And mean you well.

  But from me you go,

  Running away you fell.

  This freedom you know,

  It hurts you will tell.

  THE EVOLUTION OF EARTH

  Each day we groom little rapists

  Another fuel for those arsonists

  Ruling the realm of all realists

  Trading in the gluttony of egoists

  Housing all those unconscious theists

  GAY

  At birth the bloom will say

  What piece in the pair stay

  A plus for lives’ coupled play

  In structure all living may

  Grow, roam and breed away

  As only possible since day

  Alas, I fear the body did sway

  Hearts and minds too stray

  To please nothing else they gay

  SHEPHERDS AND SHEEP

  Woe to the shepherd

  If his foe is his herd

  And damned is the sheep

  On a pasture they can’t reap.

  WILL YOU MARRY ME?

  These intimate songs we sing

  Blend aged dreams into a ring

  That weds our gendered stew

  In matrimonial oneness not new.

  AGE STEALS ALL


  Somewhere in all days;

  Witnessed as is always,

  In the morning’s blue skies

  As in the nights’ goodbyes.

  It stops the singing,

  Matches the hatching.

  In its crawling time,

  It bettered the wine.

  With nothing to give,

  It gives and yet deceive.

  Wizen the ripened old;

  Consumed and still sold.

  Young the years grew

  And gathered all anew.

  Stealth gets its way

  As age steals all away.

  BATTLE OF THE CELLS

  Who must comes first,

  Males or the females?

  This knowledge a thirst

  That quenches with cells.

  If what is common birth

  Forms females or males;

  Supremacy is their myth,

  Caged within each cells.

  HYPOCRITES

  Those who curse the dog’s wet nose,

  Let them please cast the first stone.

  It can’t wag its tongue mouth close

  As they commonly do on their own.

  It barks its reason like all of those

  Who do but wouldn’t leave it alone.

  WHAT EARTH SAID TO THE SUN

  Oh nothing. Just that it knows

  that in its daily rounds,

  its light shines beyond every nose.

  Oh, and that it just found out

  though it does need all this,

  but must it be so damn very hot?

  Oh, it always chooses to hide

  when it is most desired,

  so it follows a dense cloud’s side.

  Oh, yes it must shine its light

  that sprouts all alive,

  but must it select time and might?

  Oh, in its daily timely departure

  it picks when its light

  had served work and not leisure.

  Oh, its massive size remains so far

  and as near as a hand’s palm

  so why don’t they all stay where they are?

  Oh, also if and when they do meet

  then let its light grace all,

  because it is only fair in this feat.

  AFRAID OF COMMON FEAR

  We’re afraid so much of necessary failure,

  Of what others think of us and of the future

  And the past gone and now; just afraid.

  We seldom show our consuming phobia fear,

  They’re pushed to sub consciousness, left there.

  There they swell up and fester; being afraid.

  Our hidden fears create a climate of anxiety;

  Scarcely knowing why we’re afraid, its insanity.

  But still live on like this, basically afraid.

  THE WORLD OF FORGETFULNESS

  Amazing how easily we forgot

  The cold as soon as it’s again hot,

  Or the raw feel of our thirst

  As soon as we had water first.

  Pain, only as long as it linger;

  Ends when joy points a finger.

  The many promises we had sworn

  Are as soon not again our own.

  The personal stories we told

  Long before we got this old,

  Or plans we drew up and made

  Before we realized what we said.

  The friendship’s wasted hugs

  As quickly, is all stale and bugs.

  That shoulder we so cried on

  We now see and as quickly run.

  Those hands that shook ours

  We now reach out to from towers,

  As soon as we forgot again;

  It’s dry, but again it will rain.

  HARVESTERS

  Whistling by the lined woody pine;

  The only one who doesn’t see me mad.

  I finally see that which all this time

  Had been there, glad to see me sad.

  Constant change can make it possible

  For my senses’ to see and finally hear,

  The breath and living of man’s trouble;

  Like the sounds of reason ever there.

  Bodily quests had blunted all the men;

  Had made our sharp seasons cut less.

  And we reap when we sow and then

  Make worldly riches more aimless.

  OWN TO OWE

  I have always wondered

  What goes through the mind

  Of the infant we so conceive?

  If he know he is or if he was

  And how then I can never tell

  If he wanted or wish to need?

  I need not wonder to know

  All about the known conceivers;

  Their want, wish and needs they say.

  I know the person as a being;

  His wants, his wishes, his needs.

  These same I didn’t know before.

  I couldn’t tell before he is,

  From where he is or has been.

  His hopes are all lost to me.

  I then can not justify

  All this favour I will do him;

  If I do know he knows not.

  If it is all I, mine and me;

  His life ever has been mine

  To want, to wish, to make?

  I owe him more than knowledge!

  What is more human and selfish

  Than to owe who you own?

  SOUNDS OF LIFE

  Letting individual faith be;

  Carry its soul to its own sea,

  Stupid perspectives as all too.

  It speaks only when spoken to.

  In its peace it rows its boat

  Sweetly to an abode it thought

  Ferries revelry ever so new,

  Or simply just as it chooses to.

  When, if or whether it matters;

  Over everything the mind falters.

  It waters sand and dry up dew,

  It heard and does as it wished to.

  Up high in vague divine quests

  Or down in worldly conquests;

  But versed and tensed it knew

  Sounds of life we’re just all up to.

  NOTHING

  Alone I roam with the air,

  The wild administer to me fair.

  People all make you only sin,

  This is the truth I’ve felt and seen.

  MY WILL

  When I do die; and I surely will,

  If you cry I will not surely heal.

  When you cry, it wouldn’t purge.

  If you still do, please stop I do urge.

  You should laugh because of this;

  I knew of this and prepared as it is.

  At least I tried hard, so why the cry?

  I made my best of it to say this bye.

  Do not paste your perception of me

  And print your story for all to see.

  I curse they that make some booklet,

  For my funeral service I will never let.

  If I am not writing my own story,

  Then no human has the right or glory.

  I dare he who owes no single sorry

  And desires a life long torment so gory.

  Sing if you must, pray if you would,

  Don’t put out my picture in some mood.

  Remember me as you last saw me or see fit,

  Don’t display my body without me in it.

  Days’ moments after death’s end,

  Do bury me quickly there and then.

  Wait not for all or some sunny day,

  Do only just as my true home say.

  My spoils I have all so shared,

  In needs as deeds I had cared.

  I owe only God first not any,

  I paid debts I could, every penny.

  I tried living because I just must,

  Though like all others, I have lost.

  I craved to blink ever so ready

  For that spot and time so
ready.

  PATHS

  Births aren’t starts,

  Conceiving on facts.

  Gestation’s little price,

  Only the baby truly cries.

  Bubbling youth bursts,

  Adulthood courts lusts.

  Stereotyped in existence,

  Coloured in conscience.

  Death can not be all,

  All gather and will fall.

  Like time of all births,

  Vague are the real paths.

  TALE

  The tale of two lives;

  All one to a person gives.

  A life of haves and receives,

  Another of wants, needs and lives.

  Living able and able who gives.

  KING OF LOVE

  You should as would have been king,

  It was a right as right you stayed crowned.

  Yet to fall in love with your story ever brings

  Applause with adoration, though chivalry is downed.

 

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