#nymphs
I
saw one
in the dew – drop
of a wet morn
inside her fluffy nest
a floor of polished brass
she offered me
And
I said no
For it was not doing me
Like sleep
I
Met two
In the gold ray
Of a warm noon
Amidst the verdant growth
A mat of golden fronds
She offered me
And
I said no
For it was not doing me
Like sleep
I
Held three
In the moon- cream
Of a cool night
Before the giggling stars
The cleft of her luscious chest
She offered me
And
I said yes
For it was doing me
Like sleep
And
Deep down in that sublime sleep
I heard the quivering lips
Of the giggling stars
Sing the annunciation
Of the birth of another priest
A priest whose sceptres
Are the drum
the pen
and the palm nuts.
© Lanre Adebayo
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 10:15 AM UTC
1971, they lost East Pakistan,
And Bangladesh was carved.
1972, they conspired terror,
By promising 72 in Jannat.
2024, the fools still believe,
Not just in violence but also in the 72.
****** Nymphs wreak havoc in their minds.
Spreading his Chiropteran wings,
It's actually Satan laughing.
The fools want the world to convert,
Convert to the religion peace at what cost?
They wield their swords and Kalashnikovs,
****** killing, converting, decapitating at will.
They think that they will get virgins in afterlife.
What's described in their scriptures?
72 bathykolpian blue-eyed virgins.
Infinite stamina and limitless wine,
With those 72 eternally ****** Nymphs.
This crude carnal desire motivating,
The ******** to commit more bloodshed.
They rally our daughters, sisters, and mothers.
Like what — they rally them as trophy wives,
Or better if stripped **** and humbled.
They **** our brothers in an exemplary manner,
Decapitating, dismembering, and insulting.
What sort of faith do they follow?
They follow the words of a mad man,
A mad man who claimed to know God.
But actually they follow a barmy man,
A man who lost his mind to the heat,
The Arabic heat with nothing to eat.
No water to drink and it caused him to break,
He was not a sensible man,
About the 2 billion followers?
They're victims of sunstroke too.
We need to strip **** their carnal faith,
Strip them of their human rights,
As they are no humans.
Humans don't behave like jackals,
They follow the religion of the Devil,
But they have the support of bigots,
Bigots who ignore our fallen angels.
Our girls and young women they don't spare,
Why then about theirs should we even care?
Use pliers and plass, pull their nails out,
Send them to their perverted Jannat.
Let the terrorists die of pain,
What will we gain?
Some centuries of actual peace.
Jun 13, 2024
Jun 13, 2024 at 2:19 AM UTC
Hidden from the world lies a place so divine,
dark and quiet, it heralds peace within.
A place know to
but a chosen few,
its walls laced with delicate ferns
dripping with crystaline dew.
Hear the drops and trickles falling
musically to the stream below.
Deep within its walls
dwell those shadowy few,
nymphs and faeries
and others too.
Niads and hyriads
and their spirit kind,
lie in serene repose.
Ye blessed visitors
who this place find,
Keep these secrets
so divine
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 7:33 PM UTC
to you, it's snoring,
but to me, it's angelic
so pure, innocent
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 10:17 PM UTC
With lavender and blossom wreathed
in their loose wavy curls
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
Sweet-skinned Nymphs of fawn,
ebony and ivory-limbs sing
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
That we would always be
children together, forever.
Though not weighed down
by the obscurities of this world
nor tethered to adults,
not even that we would live
in this painful world of math and science,
but in the clouds flying free.
In the forest like nymphs,
gaily frolicking in play.
Innocent in nature
and ignorant of the dark.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
Hello, dear nymphs of evening, the witnesses of Helios and Nyx's eternal fight.
How come you sound so dreaming, a vision of waves with golden light?
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
I dream a million fireflies transporting me to this space
A Moon shadow casts a light upon my face.
A Young boy dreaming of tight lines on this Kinderhook NY stream,
Water droplets on frozen fly line, cast a prism sunbeam.
It's this time and special place that etches a constant memory,
Of Standing on that rock casting tight loops across the estuary.
Practice makes perfect as I make a presentation towards this riffle,
I can see a smile on my face, a moment in time that's purely transcendental.
With hope on the rise and a pheasant tail nymph tied to my tippet,
I make my way past the roily water to a calmer spot I'll inhibit.
Stripping line I load this feather chucker and place a nymph on the breezers nose
Zzzzzzz screams my reel and I scramble to fight this foe
As the snow begins to fall, I gaze upon this look of contentment in my eyes
And hover from above to watch myself learning to fly.
I whisper to myself, " Man life doesn't get any better than this",
As I kneel to release my catch, I watch him glide into the abyss.
And at day's end, I find myself walking beside the memory of Lou, Theodore, and Jack,
Three mentors who showed me the way, part of my Wulff pack.
Some Say "if I fished only to capture fish, my trips would have ended long ago",
And now I have something that money can't buy, the gift of learning to fly.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC