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  Jun 2016 Mfena Ortswen
Mike Hauser
I've poured over books of science
Studied hard the ancient arts
Even spoke with bearded Guru's
On the peak of mountain tops

Taken classes from learned professors
At top notch universities
But if Jesus isn't brought up
What good are they to me

I've rubbed elbows with Hollywood Stars
As they've rehearsed their lines
Had discussions with dignitaries
With Presidents I've wined and dined

I have watched the worlds top athletes
Some of whom I'm their biggest fan
But if Jesus isn't in the process
It doesn't make any sense

I've seen a man walk on the moon
Plant a flag beneath the stars
Heard men give the greatest speeches
Watched men drive the fastest cars

You could say I've about done it all
And in that you would be right
But without Jesus in the mix
There's not much good to life
Mfena Ortswen May 2016
Your words flourish like a flower before my eyes
Oh, poet, dear poet, is there an end to the sweetness you bring forth
Now share those endless rhymes with me
Let the essence of your heart through your words live on in my head forever
I've been reading some awesome poems on here and they inspired this spontaneous piece. This is dedicated to all the poets on this site. Keep writing!
Mfena Ortswen May 2016
When wobbly ***** began to dance
Everyone and everything goes into a trance
How is he able to move his wobbly legs to fluidly
And make those buttery hands move so quickly

***** the Wobbler stunned us all
When he got accepted to a university offshore
He's wobbly feet carried him to the plane and away
My Dad declared, "that boy will do great things, I say!"

Four years later ***** returned home
No one recognized the dark handsome bloke
We watched as he rode the roads in his ride
Each of us wishing to be chosen as his bride

No more uncontrollably shaking or stammering
The new ***** went on to marry Irene
The only girl who had since showed him regard
His best friend, the girl who won his wobbly heart
  May 2016 Mfena Ortswen
Valsa George
At times I wander far….
Far away from all human habitats
Away from all prying eyes
Following the bent
Of my vagrant inclination;
Into Nature’s sylvan pockets
To places studded with trees
To the tranquil ***** of the woods
Onto the heights of bald looking hills
Where shrubs struggle to strike root
From the cleft of rocks and ledges
Where in hollows, wild bushes grow in clusters

To watch the shreds of hovering mist
To gaze upon piles of sailing clouds
To shout loud and whistle long
And to listen to the hills
Mimicking my own sound

There I will hop and jump,
Like a sprightly forest fawn,
As I don’t fear
Either the silently gliding streams,
Or the clump of swaying trees,
The host of wild flowers,
Or the monstrous mossy rocks,
Either the birds or the beasts

Never will they watch my cranky pranks
And call me a loony
As here my own men might do!
  May 2016 Mfena Ortswen
Paul Gilhooley
A stubborn old man, I may well be,
A blinkered old fool, could well be me,
Opinions as deep rooted as ancient tree,
But are they right?  I'll wait and see!

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
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