"perambulating" poems
Dim sunlight coming through the curtains of my window this morning,
the ambiance feels just a little parky…
I stretch my arm to the opposite side of the bed,
nothing…
I believe I went back to sleep…
Woke up again moved by the sense of my obligations, half awake revolving…
My body longing for a touch of her calid smooth skin at daybreak,
coldness...
As of to reach her my eyes search for her,
my hearts looks for her, but she is not with me.
Did she get out of bed before me?
maybe she's in the family room (like she calls it),
drinking a coffee and reading her book.
I feel a smile drawing in my face accompanied by a warm feeling of content.
I want to go join her, my nymph.
Perhaps she's just laying there unclothed on the ****
or perambulating through the apartment doing her thing,
my muse,
that beautiful body of hers, seductive and alluring yet innocent and tender,
physique of a greek goddess.
My cellphone rings, it is her…
confused I hasten to get out the covers and sit in my bed,
then I glance at the picture of that hypnotizing graceful smile on my desk,
her farewell gift.
She's gone, I drove her to the airport yesterday…
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:58 AM UTC
Dripping *** she stood there, completely unaware
That every man about her had turned around to stare.
For in her nubile innocence and when her red lips smiled
She was causing utter mayhem as distracted drivers piled.
The Postmen stopped delivering, Policemen stood agape,
Conductors missed their trolleybus and Superman his cape!
…And as she sashayed down the street leaving bedlam in her wake
And all the while her red high heels were causing earth to shake,
Perambulating gracefully, impossibly demure,
She sauntered down the causeway, with a loveliness so pure.
Whilst just behind and following, a ravenous hot mob
Of nature’s gift to manhood, all slavering at the gob.
Quite suddenly with a swish of skirt she swirled about and laughed
At the frozen apparition there immobile and aghast.
Acutely frozen with embarrassment at having looked so ****** absurd
They all dispersed their different ways without a single word.
“Bye boys” she chortled, with a devilment in play
With flick of skirt and toss of hair she turned and walked away.
Ha!
Marshalg
Laughing to myself at the silly old mating game we play.
Pukehana Paradise
14 April 2013
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
Water of remembrance sprinkled
On the mountain crest of recollection.
Indulgent mussy memory catapulted
Stones of retentiveness into the
Courtyard of events like bricole
Of battles.
Pendulum of reminiscences swinging
On oscillating milage of roads like
Trotting horse with drippage of sweat
And itching foots.
Ghost of reminiscences restlessly
Roaming with carriage of yesteryear.
Final year educatees required
Boardinghouse,
But list of items engorged dear
Mother's treasury
"where do l raise money
to buy oyinbo mattress, Ilori?"
Mind pullulated with weariness.
Intonation of worries.
Cantillation of wants.
Deficiency of measured means.
Oyinbo mattress beyond ladder
Of reach.
Gluttonously waiting to devour
Lesser items,
But rays of compulsion unslammed
The gate of respite.
Lordly arrival warmly welcomed by
The dorm room's porter,
Walking majestically to the bed-space
With the acquired cotton wool and raffia leaves mattress.
Gamut of items passed through the eagle's eyes of the housemaster.
Silver painted pail donated by a neighbour passed through the sentry of inspection,
And got its admission.
Mother's used cloak turned bedsheets
Passed through the rigorous scrutiny.
Newly built portmanteau unlocked and neatly dissected, item by item.
Agazed eyes focused on the cotton wool and raffia leaves hand-made mattress.
Expectations rattled mumbling astonishment.
Legs stuck in the mud of mystification.
Telepathic dews covered ocean of thought.
Tranquil silence engulfed vicinity,
Deflating the balloon of hope like a litigant awaiting verdict from the jurist's chambers.
Porter's gesticulating gesture connoted nothingness of demeaning disapproval, perambulating on the hilly terrain of approval.
Akimbo stood l.
Now the verdict!
Molten volcanic magisterial command erupted in a gestapo gesture,
Spudding out from the barytone's baritone voice from the selfsame housemaster,
From the bastion of authority,
And the house generalissimo like a wild brant squalled, matter-of-factly,
"we do not accept bed bugs cotton wool and raffia leaves hand-made mattress here".
Entreaties collapsed.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:30 AM UTC
Her fingertips loosed the glass
bottle, which had
of late
gathered rain like the
hands of paupers.
Glitter in a heartbeat.
to be collected by old battered shoes
or car tyres
and streetwise magpies.
it joins a city evensong
this oceanic roar of nothing
fusing chords of cars and smoke
and lonely dogs
with hacks
and throngs
of perambulating suits
and suitors
trampling athwart broads of concrete
As swifts in summer.
We swim in it
through open atriums
and barren rooms of
magnolia and magnolia and magnolia.
All the while if you look harder
you see through chinks a sepulchre
in each greying tower
ranging higher and higher still.
Machines and machinations
stacking life upon life to
build pyramids
to gaudy kings
in pinstripe or herringbone.
Flumes of fumes ***** like floods
Into and out of train stops
and bus stands.
Circling lungs like hungry crows.
Crows which haunt
Bombed out chapels made new
resuscitated with waxen ivy
and ivory lilies.
And the leaves of saintly oak trees
chatter in shrinking crevices of green
story telling
Of how people and things grow old.
And you can walk these streets
And dive too like cormorants into
The platitudes of city living.
Soaked to the skin in sound
to tell your story
like the shards
of a broken bottle.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Seven drops of rain
sliding slowly down a windowpane
creating their own currents out of chaotic sky
perambulating through the reflection of my eye.
Two collide and five remain
slipping through a beige, unsuitable frame
reach the bottom and seem to die
my watercoloured conceivances drip but never fly
Trickles become one pool - a picture I can't explain
but within dark waters, a swirling hurricane
those tears kiss distinction goodbye-
surrender to let my disordered painting unify.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
The face of a child where emotion runs free and is wild,
where faith is the face that it knows,
In the Mother,
light glows and the sleeping child knows, he
is safe.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
ἐγγὺς μὲν ἡ σὴ περὶ πάντων λήθη· ἐγγὺς δὲ ἡ πάντων περὶ σοῦ λήθη.
How many streets,
how many times,
has he strolled
in this irrelevant
town?
Fifty years
The perambulating
flaneur.
Change must be
but often arrives
glacially.
Crows on wires.
Nonchalant bunnies.
Indifferent children.
These ancestors
of that first ramble
take no notice
of the white haired man
with a cane.
The scenery never
comments on the drama.
Walking old streets
where many lives
have lived and vanished
brings neither sadness
nor nostalgia,
only the reminder
of time's inevitable,
ineluctable vortex.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
and when i'm overconfident, i give away things that i shouldn't
i will miss them someday when i'm in bed-
the nails still growing
no mater how short they get cut. keep cutting
them shorter and shorter
looking down at it.
hallway-stairling
bleating,
unsated.
perambulating this
/
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
In the city she faced two streets
One brightly lit and full of treats
Opposite of the first the second your attention could not keep
Life there seemed to be fast asleep
Perambulating to and fro
Unsure of which way to go
She finally stops and sits to think
Her feelings filling to the brim
Toying at the edge they sit
Taunting and daunting
Her growing fear
But she straightens her back
And holds her chin up high
Challenging her feelings straight in the eye
"I am not afraid to die.
There's nothing I fear more than living a lie."
She took the second street at a run
The blood in her veins humming.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
The shimmering light of street lamps,
Pierce & tear away the darkness,
The essence of this time,
Cry out my name,
Perambulating & pondering,
Striding into the obscurity of night,
I sneer past every shadow,
From hookers to homeless,
And beggars to bankers,
From a Prince to his princess,
To the famous and the destitute,
They all come and go,
Leaving behind their footprints,
Some fade away,
While some remain,
Resonating in a world so inane,
I take the elusive walk,
With a hope to leave the mark,
But my wonted steps,
Are too trite to differ,
Slowly they get diffused,
And lost in the haze.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
When nations beckon
And the world refuse to reckon
Desires begins to burn
Upturning
To the very last one
Heart throbbing against self *******
Fighting false battles
Along the way
Liars exonerated in white robes
Perambulating, freely reassuring false hope
Beggars bellowing bad breath
Living luxurious lives like lords
Tailored tight thieves take turn
Chopping cheap chops
On platinum platters
Thinkers in their infinite wisdom
Making hilarious decisions
What's there to it?
In this vain world
If not that by your greed
We should be crushed
Into nothingness
Then maybe our eyes
Will open to see the world
For its cunningness.
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 7:45 AM UTC