"echoe" poems
Nigeria, a Dying country,
Her kinsmen will gather in war to share her sweat
More troubles for the unborn and her growing heirs,
The unfolding dread non-soldiers at heart like me.
Nigeria, she spring forth from the dark soil
Her past never stop to echoe, her Iroko turned void
Blessed with milk, honey and seeds with hearts fixed to the creator,
The sword bearer of coal war-ful gladiators.
A vineyard in the days of her reckoning
A different story after her great hair home coming.
Tale of a true black race
And the down laying of her good moral ways.
Just like how a river side tree dries,
So does her firewood also cries.
Her genuine red caps are nowhere to be found
Her wind, her seed will have to make do with the feeble dust in character around.
Shaking is her government seat on the rock
Still steady is her opposition in their secret walls.
They keep killing her vision in disguise of trying to unlock
While they battle to pluck away all her roses.
The voiceless murmur and watch,
Her pocket papers fly and run
While a once great country keep dying on.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Please - hear my voice, your good old
Friend - is talking in to
You - let it ring inside of
You - let words echoe in
and Through.
Please - hear this prayer of a
Child - you once were, don’t let the
Tide - of this moment sweep
Aside - and the water'll flow out
and Through.
It’s not time to start over;
The bridge's almost done.
Can't you see where you come from,
That good ol' sun rising on the shore?
Please - the other side isn’t
Far - nothing else's ever
Achieved - carry yourself a little
Further - let your legs walk across
and Through.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:35 PM UTC
From the very far dark, deep and beating black,
there’s ghost breath, and blue light after,
where I un-broke myself,
next morning.
I’m under, curled to a pupil
of the bed’s eye,
so I blink the dream out.
Asleep, plants are respiring,
and the loam of their dream
is lifting, thinner.
Then the real interrupts,
erupting as a day,
and shimmering back again.
Like the shore that shares it’s time
between sand and ocean.
A fully open cup
fills up in the moment,
wherein that infinite shrinks,
and the universe grows backwards,
backwards Into,
cold coffee and dog ends.
Strange that.
It's not a nocturne,
It's an echoe of a day,
It's a memory of a memory,
It's a remora on reality.
Strange that.
why when last night,
my ashtray was full of stars.
The clock infinitely deepens
the memory of the dream.
But it’s there,
only just there.
That maybe, perhaps, dreaming of us,
somewhere in the brightest time of the night,
somewhere in sleep,
in the inbetween spaces,
somewhere there,
we left ourselves in mermaid’s purses.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:09 PM UTC
Where do we belong?Where did we go wrong?
Weren't Our emotions deep enough, to make us stay?
I look back in yesterday,I swear,Can still hear you play,
a latino boy,playing his guitar,singing a love song,
to a brown eyed girl,born in the month of May
Our candle blaze no light,Our flame has slowly died,
No more stars to watch,No sweet kisses in the night,
Our ardent river of fervent dreams has dried,
No cheek to cheek,No smiles to greet,We left it all,
You are not here,I am not there,We are forever gone
Where do we belong?Where did we go wrong?
Weren't our emotions deep enough,to make us stay?
I look back in yesterday,I swear, Can still hear you play,
a latino boy,playing his guitar,singing a love song,
to a brown eyed girl,born in the month of May
Happy Promises buried in grains,we won't see face to face,
Can't hear your voice,Silence echoe in cold and distant caves,
Two hearts carried away,by desperate tides and savage waves.
Soft whispers whirled in strong winds, not knowing where to blow,
I'm yours,You're mine,have sunk in space and time of letting go.
Where do we belong?Where did we go wrong?
Werent Our emotions deep enough to make us stay?
I look back in yesterday,I swear,Can still hear you play,
a latino boy,playing his guitar, singing a love song,
to a brown eyed girl,born in the month of May.
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 1:45 AM UTC
We were just kids,learning the life
A 14, your birthday a big surprise
At 15, a bunch of kids seizing the hopes
sitting for the test, learning the ropes
I hope to see you soon to know you're okay
I hope I meant to you as you meant to me
3 years later,we've chosen a different way
We passed in order to be free
We thought we would stick together
But lives change like the weather
Our voice would echoe in the wells of light
If I knew you were all copying just fine
Are you materializing your far-to-reach dreams
'cause I try to,the world upside down how it feels?
Did you notice the leaves changing in the fall?
We'll be grown ups in a while, still miss you all
I hope to see you soon to know you are okay
I know we chased down the end of the rainbow
3 years later,we've chosen a different shade
In order to be us,no one to follow
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
The soul of Heaven
Panoptically piercing
The flight ideas of
Fateful formaking;
The forfended
Resonance of the choirs
Of thunder provoking perdition
The seditious war drums of
Silence weaving movements of being
The ambient battlecry lament
The resounding echoe
Within my soul, knotting
A prism of shadows
Rumbling beyond eternity
Like flowers that grow dead
The aura of time
Musing tidal memory
Reminiscent of twilight
The mercurial epoch of light
A spectrum of emotion.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:42 AM UTC
There are demons inside of me.
They consume my soul,
Destroy my body.
I walk around
As though they do not exist,
Yet the truth remains
No matter how hard I resist.
The darkness germinates in my core,
The roots stretch through my veins,
Each day they grow more.
Through my eyes -
I see shadows,
While cries from Satan's slaves echoe.
Hunting for prey,
Hungry for anything.
I give them myself,
My hollow body means nothing.
As the pain builds inside me, I need a release
I fold myself to fit,
But can't bend to a perfect crease.
So I cut,
And I cut,
Again and again
Your body is a canvas,
But it's not ink in my pen.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Life is about taking breaths
But the most important times
Are when it is taken away
And all that haunts a displaced child
Is when their breath was lost then found again
From the moment a 3 minute warning is given
Where does one evacuate to
When already in a shelter
As bombs blast
And shots echoe in the near distance
When the ground shakes in pain
There is no time to think
No time to act as shrapnel came flying
To pierce their skin
And homes collapsed
Walls caved in
Only to harden their resolve
All out of tears
They no longer fall
When they get used to the pain
They recite the martyred like a grocery list
Mum
Dad
Brothers
Sisters
Aunties
Cousins
Uncles
Friends
But the souls of lost ones are trapped in little hearts
Caged in past dreams
Where Fatima still comes to play with Aisha in the courtyard
Even with her head twisted off by the guards
Tariq and Abdul play marbles with charred fingers
Maha clings onto yesterdays that can never be the same
Where her father's farm was ripe
And days were spent out in the field
A child sees a child does
So they accept they were born to die
And pick up a stone to fight
At least they must try to protect themselves
Even animals reserve that right
It's instinct
Basic defensive nature and survival needs
Yet the world condemns them
Serpents that bare snakes
They are terrorists in the making
As curses cry out from anger and hatred
A crime to be born in the middle east
The gates and borders of surrounding countries
Closed for their emergency
Where the only place to go is through the doors of heaven
Which are wide open
And in this case is it cruel of me to say
Maybe it is a better option
Than to live and die a thousand times over
Mentally disturbed
Overwhelmed with distrust
All that will be left are robots
That have nothing to lose
Time that should be spent in school
Is a time that will never come back
And everyday is a chance lost
Scars that will never be overcome
Eyes that have seen too much
These angels don't belong here
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
Like I didn't know
but I misunderstood
the voice in the phone
I thought you were good
A word coming out of your mouth
it pierces my heart
Nothing I can soothe
it makes everything fall apart
All I can ask is why
why you take all your preverse problems out on me
You think I'll be fine
I think it's maybe I always look like him
or maybe I'll never be what you wanted me to be
When all your screams
echoe in my mind
The tiny line that bleeds
is always out of your sight
A word that can follow me around
Mad for no reason
Corrupted if raising my sound
You wear your worst season
All I can ask is why
Why the gold one others find is your personal sinner
Now I don't think I can shine
I think it's maybe I never looked like her
maybe she was always your protected little angel child
The unjustice occuring
right before your eyes
Your cruelty only touching
my hopes I can't find
A word that can make you forgiven
Emptied of them today
Just for you to fall back there again
My promises left away
All I can ask is why
why I'm the one you can't be there for
I just want to fly
I think it's maybe me not cut to what you dreamt of
maybe I'm not the follower of you
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
When my hair is short and my face becomes coarse from days' age,
I cannot tell myself apart from my father.
In mirrors and photographs and the eyes of who I love,
I see my father before I see myself.
My father's dimmed reflection through mine;
my successes, failures;
these my father make with me.
I see my father sick in his son's cigarette smoke.
I see how my sleep makes him healthy.
I feel my father's calm, honest tremble at the animal inside of me.
My father's stillness when the glass under my skin breaks.
My father's smile beneath mine.
I speak and it is my father's voice.
My father's voice of reason, my father's desperation.
My father's voice under mine speaking to that missionary:
*(I cannot trust conditional morality as an absolute truth)
(I won't trust ****** even if it calls me friend)
(I know love happened before you invented God)*
Beneath my laugh, the echoe of my father's joy.
Beneath my violence, my father's fear.
Beneath my awe, my father's humility.
I see my father with me,
I see
me,
my father's son,
my father's son,
my father's son.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
On a patterned nebula, paramour's giggle whilst locking warmly hand's, like two stray's of a different course, they runneth by none command's, all promises filled, as their cheek's do touch, like flourishing rainbow's, heaven to ground's lunch. They maketh their own commandment's, as tis the world's just a stage, grandiose in their delightment, making newsstand page. Bambino's of the unknown, covered in flamboyant flakes, overcoming the new-age step's, of this passing place. And whilst they art simpering, their taste buds over-runneth, their cup is not made from steel, but gold of king's and Queen's chalice. And whilst at dusk, when the blood moon cometh out, the neighbor's canst heareth their love, out the window's it doth bounce. Echoe's of their novela, they'll speaketh many tongue's, and whilst their alone together, their embracing head on shoulder love.....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
And how could I ever pen a sonnet?
So cried a lad's voice tinged in despair
At his mother who smiled in a Bonnet.
Dear child, 'tis as easy as flys birds of air:
First, always think about the poem's theme,
And let it echoe throughout three qautrains,
Like as a sweet dream in thy mind doth chime.
Always write freely as falls Summer rains,
Each line in iambic pentameter,
Ressolve the poem's theme by the couplet,
A tough but easy rule thou must remember,
For that pays off thou must never forget.
Now go pick up thy quill, poetry ink,
Let thy hand in a Well of sonnets sink.
**#Decasyllabic
#Shakespearean sonnet
#Hints of penning a Shakespearean sonnet.**
*Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Jumeirah, Dubai, 1st Jan 2018.*
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
you strayed into my heart
like a candle flame flickering
in a mirror
and there you'll stay
so i m gonna steal me some flowers
roses
red roses
i 'm gonna steal me those roses
so crimson in color,
and the rain,
i'm going to steal the rain
and the echoe of thunder
from that night
and a porcelain vase
too
white as snow
white as the ptarmigan
in winter
with blue tear drops
falling
forever falling
frozen in that moment
when you left
i'm going to steal the roses
that you love
from my neighbors garden
red as the sun
coming out of the sea
at dawn
and put them on your grave
the sky weeps for what we could not hold.
crimson roses in a porcelain vase.
Apr 26, 2022
Apr 26, 2022 at 4:32 PM UTC
She knew me,
from my words and able
to feel my pain that was crouched
in widom and carefully hidden
but nevertheless sometimes I feel
the echoe of old hurts
whispering across my mind
passing like shadows
across my spirit.
I am deeply touched
by her need to heal and soothe
with loves tender touch
and sometimes I feel
as though I do not choose it
but rather it chooses me!
I am helpless to do
anything other than to
let it wash across
my soul.
My heart weeps
and tears flow freely
to mend the wound
and to let joy come
once more
and I can only rest
when I know
that there is peace.
These are only words,
but words are
all I have to take
her heart away. Jon York 2012
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 5:38 PM UTC
She had a beauty that would tangle your tongue if you ever tried to describe it..
You form a stutter as your heart tried to reiterate the words fumbling from your lips.
She would just look at you..
Then a knot would twist.
Your mind would echoe you idiot as you just tried to put together a simple sentence.
He.. hel..lo.
You couldn't really look up but you knew her smile has risen kissing her face as her eyes glowed in awe or complete amazement.
Her love was a tongue twisters. Hearts collapsing falling in this evident love that couldn't be denied not even by the tongues tied.
Lyricist she spoke more like sang her voice mesmerizing.
Have you ever choked on the alphabet & threw up nothing close to what you were thinking especially when all you could think is oh god she is beautiful.
Tongue twisted with the romantic poison of a crush everlasting..
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Devils in disguise
shy bunny girls that are hiding
black *** honey bee
giving that sting to you
giving it to me
several sewer rats running wild
while the childs of the crow hide
total sun eclipse
making you blind
black *** bee
run
hide
Barks of the lonesome
echoe
shiver of my hand
making you lonely
bones burried underneath a tree
black *** bee
run and hide
black bees they glide
giving that sting
and it clings
for days, for weeks
until you pray
Devil in Disguise
Devil in her eyes
black bees in the sky
cover your eyes
hide the number of your lies
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
I could memorize your freckles.
Where each is exactly
And how many you have.
I could kiss your lips
A thousand times
And feel my cheeks burn
With each.
I could run my hands
Through your soft hair,
Feeling each curl
Like silk between my fingers.
I could stay in your arms
For as long as you'll let me,
Absorbing the security
I've been trying to find everywhere.
I could forge
These tactile memories,
These sensations I could experience
All over again
If I just close my eyes.
If I just close my eyes
And breathe deeply
It's almost as if
I can feel you again.
I feel your ghost on my lips,
Your shadow embraces me,
Your echoe holds my hand
And I pray to be close to you again.
I count the seconds
Until my tactile memories
Become concrete
And I can feel you,
Not your ghost
Or shadow
Or echoe,
Making me wish
For more time.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 1:44 AM UTC
Sometime before you were alive,
the mother of the woman you will grow to love is kneeling over an empty plot of land in a burning cemetery etching text into the dirt,
laughing,
laughing to the sky:
*I carry with me the sins of my mother,
To my daughter I give my own.
To my daugther my burning blood, this divine fire,
The charity, the greed, the cruel indifference my life has known.
To my daughter these things as they came from my mother to me.
To my daughter the echoe of my own sin,
To my daughter my own depravity.
To my daugther, Trial by Fire,
Clarity of purpose and strength through this Trial granted to thee
Because only through this Trial were these things granted to me.
Life to my daughter I will give
So a good life my daughter might choose to live.
Life to my daughter
because life to me,
because life to me,
because life to me.
The blood I give to my daughter because the blood my mother gave to me.
My blood to my daughter,
Thee,
Because mine own blood my mother gave to me.*
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
i
The quiet crypt amongst the goblin's and ghoul's
I secretly wander, an isolation love tomb;
And in this mausoleum, I expatiate the catacomb
Crooning mine soft echoe's, as mine painful shadow doth moan.
ii
Mine doppelganger of heartbreak, lingers aloft the mist
I seeketh for another ghost lover, just one apple kiss;
A globules of amour, I beggeth for just one tiny pinch
I beseech for a peach, one bite inside her flowery glimpse.
iii
An ingenue of cosmos venue, a juncture of cheribum Host's
The lightning bug's, to be as ourn love, lighting up the ghost's;
Bonjour from me, none Au revoir from her, a delightful play
One of mi amour', as lightning dances, and fairies art Prancer's.
iv
The universal relic, to be ourn set, the curtain closed, sweet duet
She calleth me king, I calleth her pet, lass of day, lad of the nest;
And whilst the pest's, tryeth to cut ourn wings, well standeth tall
And whilst we standeth, we'll grabbeth all there is to bring.
v
A dwelling place, in her amulet of both of ourn beating heart's
Never away, none distance, none evil or lies to keepeth us apart;
Lineal scout's, of what life's all about, leaving fear's in the out
And walking the galaxy, leaving step's, heaven awoke, undressed.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
My last dance will be an inspiration
Hands to hands tightly intertwined
Music deeper than any revelation
And all done in my own time
My last meal will be very delicious
Sampling a bit of all of my favorite things
And being my last, need not be nutritious
Humming with flavor cause you know it makes me sing
My last slumber will be the deepest I’ve known
Dreams will no longer come at all
My essence thus departed receding from how I’ve grown
So there will be no me left to recall
My last conversation will never be my last
Though my bodies may fade
Becoming only an echoe in the past
My words will remain to be remade
Revisited over and over again
It may not be immortality
But it is as close as I can come my friend
Words etched in the collective unconscious
Until humanity ends
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
Awake to the echoes
morning noon and night
Of a rare miracle....
Of warmth of care of calm
Tears from despair, faith
vigour
the happiness..
the gleam, is not gone.
As time draws itself
away from me-
its sad
as sad can be.
From nothingness
to something i sink-
sweet music
sweet sleep,
Steadfast,
in a sweet unrest,
the days of before
still fresh.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 7:26 PM UTC
pocket full of pennies
rolling across the kitchen floor,
down the steps, out the door,
pennies running into the street
(and i'm right behind them.)
"where do you think you are going? and
I'm feeling a bit embarrassed, so i whispered.
"you belong to me,
to keep or to throw away." and
there s a light tap on my shoulder,
and the policeman tells me,
"better find them soon
before they turn to rust,
I couldn't find mine
and I'm sure they turned into dust."
and the echoe from the hole
in my pocket shouts,
" his dreams are
trying to find the waterline."
i did find a few of them, a handful,
(I had swiped my hand as they tried to roll away)
I did grasp a few
but some of the other
pennies i threw into the air
where they may have fallen,
I know not where.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 10:08 PM UTC
Secondhand smoke
cough
Chronic coughing inhale the poisonous atmosphere.
cough
I wish I could clear my lungs yet arguments about stupid **** infest the walls
Deep breath
What exactly is fresh air?
Loud bangs echoe through my insides nowhere to hide
My mind drained in the lies
And dear God I swore secondhand smoke was a lie
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC