"bora" poems
The song is gone; the dance
is secret with the dancers in the earth,
the ritual useless, and the tribal story
lost in an alien tale.
Only the grass stands up
to mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gums
posture and mime a past corroboree,
murmur a broken chant.
The hunter is gone; the spear
is splintered underground; the painted bodies
a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot.
The nomad feet are still.
Only the rider's heart
halts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid word
that fastens in the blood of the ancient curse,
the fear as old as Cain.
6.8k
You looked for my buttons
With nerve and steady pace
Licking my muttons
I loved your sweet-
+Taste-
+Of victim's meat
This you sought in loving me
It helps you to feel complete
I know this-
+Truly-
+Do I miss
The way you made me feel?
My heart filled up with zeal
As I-
+Reminisce-
+About the nights we had
I'm afraid I'll resist
For my health it's-
+Bad-
+For I'm betwixt
A rock and a hard place
Feelings all a mixed
I'm slowly losing-
+Face-
+This simple musing
Like Dexter's DeeDee
BOOM...My la bora tory
T y s a g
o o o m n
u u i
s
My Buttons all scattered
My world a tilt-o-whirl
I fade into red
I hate you stupid girl
Sorry for my hasty reactions
I know I blew my top
You only had the best intentions
But Sweets I couldn't stop
Just like a Sour Patch Kid
Sweet, Sour, Gone
I wasn't sure if you did
Ever love me at all
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Zanzibar,
From these waters I picked the salts,
Embroidering my words on their slates,
Asubuhi Nyema Ndugu Nzuri,
The melodies of the moonson,
Has trigger the waves,
They dance to the long drawn song,
NDUNGU
The dhows are taut,
And primed for sail,
Is Sofala set?
Are the docks decked?
What about the sands;Are they spiced?
And the puppet performers?
NDUNGU
Our cronies will soon ingress,
Reach mapungubwe with my words,
Tell him to tailor rapta and kilwa kisiwani,
And put the leopard kopje in order,
NDUNGU
Ultimate,are the bounties swathed?
Kuhusu Ndungu Bora
Zanzibar.
Zanzibar,
Historian E.Lexano,
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
Watching his velour for he was to be my knight,
Dismounting he spoke in clever clichés and poetic chime,
Swooned & enchanted my silk craft flutter upon the ground
Dreaming I of fevered kiss at night chambers,
Unforgettable the offense my skirts held high,
Would he carry the fortune of a king and wisdom of a sage?
Pray tell my good knight of roses across the moon
Merlin be twining the silk thread,
Mine fingers restless in watch over the mazes,
His crafting potions and poisons be pale,
All through bora blue skies trembling flesh am I
One hand to the sky, another to earth below,
Doth love speak there at centre of thy chest?
Admist silent alchemy foretold,
Methought Magick be alone sorrows gold
Smoothing long silks, lily pond sings,
Mine tortured concupiscence
Reflection light is seeping,
Spectral are illusions spawn immortal gold,
Star lights ignite mine love sweet knight
Why so far?
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet 2013
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
She looked at him in fright
Terror, emanating from the smile she manages
He looked at her in grimace
Control, grinning from words he holds servitude
They looked at each other
Wishing tomorrow but yesterday comes
Exchanging nostalgic reveries in those tiny reflex glances of -we were perfect-
They lay together with bruised knuckles and swollen jaws.
The anticipation of violence et
The anticipation of conspiracy s'épaissir
The fear of being alone and the need to be the man leaves scars on their being whilst they cuddle watching the sun set on the warm coasts of Bora Bora
Their love ebbing away
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Black cloud over you
Your a prisoner to you
Stuck in your mind
So many times
You’ve lost count
You’ve seen better days
In many ways
This is an ok day for you
Can’t seem to do anything
This has got the best of you
So let’s take that trip
To Bora Bora.
Let’s just runway from here.
We can go anywhere but here.
I Said the wrong thing
It wasn’t your fault I swear
It didn’t mean anything
Just a funny joke
That didn’t land where it was supposed to
Oh it may be harder then it looks.
Maybe the answers aren’t in those books
Medication doesn’t taste that good to you
I’m on your side but pull the trigger if it would make you feel good.
So let’s take that trip
To Bora Bora.
Let’s just runway from here.
We can go anywhere but here
May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 4:12 PM UTC
Slipping away from my fingertips once again.
Beautifully breaking.
Fantastically falling apart.
Days spent pacing with your shallow heart racing just praying for an embracing.
The seasons will keep changing.
Waves will crumble to ashes.
Snow will melt into lungs, indirectly letting us inhale the wintry, frigid weather.
Flowers will be reborn once again and embody scent into our minds once more.
Dreaming of a day when I could rest in the canopy of dogwood and sweet honeysuckle.
Earth is where I'll remain, one with the howling winds and piercing air.
Flowery Aprils and Brutal Novembers.
Burt me regarding the sacred time of my last breath, be it in leaves of maples petals of tulip, crisps of December frost or maybe even crunchy sand in between my toes as told by the trodden beaches of Bora Bora in July.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
An insatiable wanderlust I wish to be,
Beyond the horizon I ought to see.
The land, the sea and many places,
To meet and greet those beautiful faces.
I wish to visit the spectacular Angkor Wat in Cambodia,
Or tripping on a bumpy Leh-Ladakh Road ride in India.
To swim among the tropical fishes in the Maldives,
Or sitting at the edge of the Kalaupapa Peninsular Cliffs
I wish to meditate at the peak of the Himalaya,
Or adore the fascinating Great Wall of China.
To romance at the Oia- Santorini in Greece,
Or party at the Belearic Islands till the day ceased.
I wish to watch the sunset illuminates the Pyramid of Giza,
Or a calm sunbathe in the magical islands of Bora Bora.
To get awed by the grandeur beauty of the Amazon,
Or simply a Gandola ride in Venice like a Vagabond.
I wish to sip the finest Bordeaux Wine in France,
Or get drown in the madness of “Tomorrow land”.
To visit the isolated Chile Easter Island,
Or brave the arduous climb to the top of Fuji mountain.
I wish to embark on a panoramic train ride to Machu Picchu,
Or immersed on remnants of the mythical history of Peru.
To witness the Aurora Borealis in Norway,
Or the divine old city of Jerusalem is a must visit someday.
I will travel through the land and the ocean,
Could be a random plan without a direction.
But I will travel far and I will travel near,
And I will keep my feet rolling every where.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
a strong bora
sends the boats in the port
rocking and clanging
people keep clutching
their hats
tightly to their heads
their skirts to their thighs
we take windblown photographs
of each other
before the harbor bay
the wind is not as wild
as on the funny drawings
on those picture postcards
that show everything flying
through the air
but things are bad enough
to bring tears to your eyes
and to make us turn our backs
on the rest
of Trieste
and dry our eyes
over coffee and coke
in a small bar
around the corner
* * *
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
An addendum to 2013 HP poem
"The Road to One Chicken"
with 37,000 "Public" reads.
She was there again, a vision.
Slow walking with assured purpose
and grace not seen in most women
of any age, barefoot or in sandals.
Mainland restrictive shoes unknown,
and not required by her. A free spirit
exhibiting nary a hint of artifice,
a natural unaffected beauty.
Wind fluttering her long dark hair
like a flag atop the mast of a sleet
schooner upon a gentle rolling sea.
A Tahitian girl barely 20 walking
beside me, on a dirt road, by the
vibrant blue Ocean, holding my
hand and smiling.
Not having a common language
our eyes, some pidgin talk and
gestures conveyed all that was
needed. We loved one another
for a few days and nights, and
then too soon I departed as crew
on a sloop bound for Bora Bora,
while she remained happily
behind on her beautiful island.
Both this girl and her island
tenderly vividly remembered,
for over 50 years.
Some impressions last forever.
Unlike myself, she remains young
and vibrant evermore, a benevolent
ghost memory dream only appearing
at night and always assuredly welcome.
Dec 11, 2023
Dec 11, 2023 at 5:20 PM UTC
You know the kind,
Away from the whine
That annoying squeal of indifference
Away from that
Car collisions, the metals crunch your bones,
The manic suckling
Off Mother's back
The suffocation of our own lungs
The pollution of Her consumption
I want to steer away from that
Stung
"Acht tung"
I want moments of reprieve
When no pain is given
When the empty dark is taking
The beauty that should be seen
In every fiber of our being
Bora Bora
Paradise
Where in such love of lovely places
We feel at peace
That perfect reprieve
Moments of a Universe
Believed
The truth revealed
Between you
And within me
Together
Only in my wildest dream
Love .
You are my moments of
Serenity.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:17 PM UTC
How'd you know to put pickle in the Tempura?
Partial MB 4 Kim Buff Awe Echo sell gee
Wait it's my turn
What do you
have to
say for your self?
Not nearly as spry to be
wanted as Bora Bora Waters Febreze
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 12:13 AM UTC