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Her friends died years ago
she and her cats were home.
Oh how she wished to play bingo
She felt so sad, she was home alone.

There's nowhere to go,
The streets are bare.
Nobody else to go to,
COVID19 is in the air.

There is nobody to see,
Everyone is at home.
Locked down to a certain degree
but am I really alone?

Nature is finally free
to do as she pleases.
I see three little birds on a tree
They are the new masses.

Knock-knock, is anyone home?
Yes, where else could I be?
Come ride out the COVID19 storm
Come take a cup of tea with me.


#IvanBrookspoetry©
@Bassap©et✍
29-3-2020
The lonely old lady was bored.She came out of isolation and ventured out into the streets...she thought she was alone...she remembered one house and he was still there😜
Can we just talk
For old times sake.
Can we take a walk,
In spite of the heartbreak?

This journey we are on,
Started out just alright.
We glued and started to bond,
Holding hands under the moonlight.

Can we just talk
I'll apologize if I'm wrong
So Can you just halt,
And jam to this love song?

I have been dreaming
It's you I know I want.
You have been refusing,
Telling me you just can't?

Can we just talk,
About what's happening?
I crossed the line of chalk,
Therefore I've come begging.

Remember the time
When we were young?
I was broke without a dime,
I gave you a rose and a love song.

Can we just talk
And reflect on good times?
Can we please talk,
In spite of my love crimes?

Give me another chance,
To do a poem on your heart.
Let me take you out to dance,
To make up for my bad act.

Can we please just talk,
Like we did before?
Can we just take a walk,
Near the ocean shore?

#IBpoetry©••#Bassapoet

       <<< 26-3-2020 >>>
Can we just have a moment, of understanding, can we at talk?
I don't vocalize
I'm not a musician.
I don't embalm
I'm not a mortician.
I don't make objects
disappear in thin air,
I'm not a magician.
I don't flip numbers,
I'm not a mathematician.
I don't heal patients,
I'm not a physician.
I don't tell funny jokes
I'm not a comedian.
I don't do hair or makeup,
I'm not a beautician.
I can't run for public office
I am not a politician.

I was born to flip
Letters into words.
I can write a lovely script
Shiny like samurai swords
I can bring smiles to faces,
Via a beautiful love story.
I can take your mind to places,
Using the magic of poetry.
I can make the sun to shine,
In a dimly lit corridor.
My words will outlive time,
Like the soul of a gladiator.
I can morph into a genius,
By the stroke of my humble pen.
The nectar of my ink is gracious
Always doing the best it can.

#IvanBrookspoetry©
@Bassap©et✍
The truth is all that I know...this is the truth!
I had a thrilling dream
but it was more like a vision
Of myself by a beautiful stream.
Like I was in another dimension,
I saw the great Lord of poetry,
logic and spoken words.
He was leading an army
They were armed only with swords.
The army was building a city
With books and plastered with letters.
I heard it was the hub of artistry
That was set aside for writers.
Bewildered, I asked about what I've seen,
He said most poets won't make Heaven,
But this poetic paradise is guaranteed.
So go and notify the brethren.
He said take heed and keep writing,
write spoken words, spit and share knowledge
for soon the Lord of poetry is coming
to reward and take away poets on his carriage.

#IBpoetry
8-2-2020
Keep writing brethren....
Do you know God is going to set fire
on those who failed to read poems?
Do you know there's going to be
No bad weather besides soft quiet storms?

Do you know we gonna meet hordes
Of legendary artists and poets there?
Do you know were going to see Maya,
Tupac, Prince, Kobe, Gianna, Miles,
Micheal Jackson and Shakespeare?

Do you know regular folks, the Saints and all good people are going to be in new Jerusalem?
Do you know a special place has been built for us poets, a place God called poetry-selem?

Do you know poets are going be on the team with kings David and Solomon, writing psalms and hymns?
Do you know we are going to speak a special language and be called by new names?

Do you know our words are going to line the Billboards of Heaven for all to see?
Do you know that the tree of life is heaven's only tree?

#IBpoetry©
Twitter @ivanclappers
6-2-2020
Even though most of us won't make Heaven,Poetic Paradise is guaranteed.
Yesterday, When the world was young
and the earth was still beautiful.
When happy day was nature's song
and the devil was still merciful.

Yesterday, way before the computer
and the inception of the internet.
That was before Jedi and skywalker,
eons before Elizabeth and Phillip met.

Before the information highway
and way before social media.
Before the first play on Broadway,
and the Biafra war in Nigeria.

Yesterday, before we lost focus
and mankind got infected with the very addictive FB virus.
Yesterday, before Twitter was created.

Yesterday was only time and space.
It was the time that God realized
that the earth was a very sad place.
God's plan was not yet finalized.

#IBpoetry©
8-2-20
Yesterday will never return but it was the beginning of today and the end of the day before yesterday.
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2019
I
A peasant sat and prayed
to the God of his ancestors.
The cool evening crept slowly
and the dust devil rose hastily,
Spraying mist of powdery brown
dust into his sunken eyes.
The cloud, as if It discerned
his dismal and dejected mood,
instantly formed a variation
Of comforting images
He was in a period of grief,
Visibly beset with gloom.
He ignored all of these
impromptu shows nature
improvised to curb his pains.
The tears came and came,
he shivered and sobbed until
he felt his loss had subsided.

II
With legs crossed and chin
In hands, he felt sorrow
and anger overwhelming him.
Perplexed by grief and
the thought of her.
"If only I knew how to fly.",
he thought, almost in tears.
His moistened eyes were motionless
Transfixed on the windowpane
Unaware of the gusts of wind
softly rattling the palm thatch roof
Of the disheveled gbafah he
he goes to whenever he needed
To be introverted.
He padded the soft silt with his
barefoot unaware of the colony of
fire ants as they mounted his limbs.
He was instantly jolted to reality
by the excruciating pains caused
By the fire ant's morsels deeply
embedded in his skinny patched
legs beneath his frail body frame

III
He missed the one and only love
He knew, his fondness for her could only be characterized as a malady of affection.
Ever since she left, every evening came and went without him taking his eyes off the main road leading down the overgrown trails beneath the canopy of trees. The day went by, but he failed to notice that dusk had engulfed the village and all around him were the burning flames of many diminutive fireflies.
He cared less about the pains still burning his now swollen feet. The eerie sounds of the night crickets echoed but he had one thought; to see his true love.
He couldn't get her off his mind and
It repulsed him to think of the possibility
Of her not coming back.

IV
"Where are you my queen, what has happened to your promise you made to me about coming back to me?"
Come let's roam in the undergrowth once again. The hills call your name and the birds chuckle.
I am losing my mind, I'm forfeiting my staying power. come lets play, come.
"come, my love, come walk barefooted in these ponds, come let's dance and play in the rain. come and undulate your gorgeous
hips and spin like a flamingo in flight."
In tears, I remember how you made me smile, how you turn my life around and blessed me with your heart and beautiful smile. Come to me, come to me, my love.
.

#IvanBrookspoetry ©
               8-28-2019
                 #Bassapoet
                               twitter@ivanclappers
This piece came from afar....deep from a sad place ,
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