Kikodinho Edward Alexandros

Nov 2018

Walter W Hoelbling

giving thanks
can be a very existential thing
as the legendary settlers in New England learned
when they arrived
   as illegal immigrants
and the natives
   though wary of their guns and swords
taught them to plant
   corn together with fish
and shared their harvest with them
   late in the year

giving thanks may be a very personal thing
whenever we travel far away
are given a friendly welcome
are fed and housed by the natives
and accepted into their families

giving thanks is a very human thing

it shows that we are aware
of the fragility of our life

that it always depends
on the kindness of strangers
who help us to survive
in their world

after all

we are aliens
in most parts of our globe

          * *

Kikodinho Edward Alexandros Nov 2018

In Woods Of Life A Lion There So Dwells (Sonnet 17)

In woods of life a lion there so dwells,
A lion mortal men dost truly know,
All animals and birds of strangest dales,
For whiter than snow robes his heart doth glow.
His love not of here but of heaven's sphere,
For like as stars of yore and now sleeps last,
His cab's prey he must rummage here and there
Yet like as sun of yore and now wakes first:
His cabs in glee, the cynosure of all
Hence would as lief hunt through the darkest moor,
The entire shadowy un-trodden vale
To dress his cabs in joy-robes evermore.

   Hark! If this be no lion but rather
   An angel proud I am to call mother.

Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California.

11/20th/2018.

#Shakespearean sonnet

#Been penning this poem since yesteryear

Unto my dear mother and all mothers of that nature out there.

Honestly, I grew up destitute in the ruins of Kampala, Uganda, but there's one hero by the name, Nalugo Florence, she whom I'll keep in the bower of my heart forevermore for turning all my days to hues of gold from her toiling. A hero most gladly I call mother.

Nov 2018

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 017: Who Will Believe My Verse In Time To Come

Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts:
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, “This poet lies,
Such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces.”
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet’s rage,
And stretchèd metre of an antique song.
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.

Kikodinho Edward Alexandros Nov 2018

INFINITE LOVE

Funny how someone can
Sunder a heart of thine
And thou still dost adore them
With all thy riven smithereens!

My love, please come to me,
In my life thou dost linger;
Like as salt of a briny sea
Or like as the star's luster.

So long have I endured
A heart sundered by love
Though wherever I wander
Thy sweet love I dost crave.

Oh! My love, come back to me
So we may pick these riven pieces
That like sea waters scattered be
And I'll shower thee with kisses.

Nevermore shall we ever sunder
For my love will be thy love
Sparking like heaven's thunder,
As thy love will be my love.

Blissfully we'll dwell ever after
Like twinkling stars of the galaxy
With our enchanted passion
Effulgently lingering in perpetuity.

Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California.
11/19/2018.

Unto she who will never read it.

#Love
#Nostalgia
#Infinite Love
#Galaxy
#Stars

A modified version of one of my older poem penned in the wee hours of a dead July of 2015.