"revamps" poems - Hello Poetry

Alexander K OPICHO (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) from north in Kaduna of Okigbo to south in the Rhoben Island of Mazizi Kunene and D M Zwelonke who sang the song of Shaka; in Zulu Heroism that beautified our face in the armpit of Ezkia Mphalele, the sons of Africa in the knighthood of poetry,chantery and incantations you are hailed with with glory and dignity for your service to humanity your service to literature and gods of poetry in the spirit of the song that we chant in the spirit of love and peace the glory of hour heritage is an eyesore to the lazy ; who though ill will can stop the flow of African river, Sing our songs and chant our spirituals as you write our poems open your poetic ***** for the world is a ****** in which the seed of African poetry will plummet and flower to glory of man the essence of Godliness, Let Soyinka and Achebe sing our songs without fear of home As Okot P' Btek revamps from the ashes like a phoenix to re-plant the bumpkin in the old homestead of Taban Lo Liyong Who sang the cacotpic song in the dystopia of black diaspora when he saw another ****** dead in the guest for Nocturnes of Senghor who feared Marxist poetry and African songs which Aime Cesaire chanted in the mayoralty of Paris.

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Jan 24, 2014

Jan 24, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC

alexander-k-opicho

ode to the African Poets

Alexander K OPICHO (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) from north in Kaduna of Okigbo to south in the Rhoben Island of Mazizi Kunene and D M Zwelonke who sang the song of Shaka; in Zulu Heroism that beautified our face in the armpit of Ezkia Mphalele, the sons of Africa in the knighthood of poetry,chantery and incantations you are hailed with with glory and dignity for your service to humanity your service to literature and gods of poetry in the spirit of the song that we chant in the spirit of love and peace the glory of hour heritage is an eyesore to the lazy ; who though ill will can stop the flow of African river, Sing our songs and chant our spirituals as you write our poems open your poetic ***** for the world is a ****** in which the seed of African poetry will plummet and flower to glory of man the essence of Godliness, Let Soyinka and Achebe sing our songs without fear of home As Okot P' Btek revamps from the ashes like a phoenix to re-plant the bumpkin in the old homestead of Taban Lo Liyong Who sang the cacotpic song in the dystopia of black diaspora when he saw another ****** dead in the guest for Nocturnes of Senghor who feared Marxist poetry and African songs which Aime Cesaire chanted in the mayoralty of Paris.

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Twisted shadows creep forth... morphing into… desolation cries seep through my skin thereafter, darkness engulfs me… consumes me… devours my inner being, my essence thence... a dark spiritual cocoon... tainted revamps that which was to be righteous into something more… perfect morphed into forlornness I awake, galvanized only tenebrous ambitions are left malevolent perfection is amongst

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Nov 2, 2010

Nov 2, 2010 at 2:27 AM UTC

zy-marquiez

Malevolent Whispers

Twisted shadows creep forth... morphing into… desolation cries seep through my skin thereafter, darkness engulfs me… consumes me… devours my inner being, my essence thence... a dark spiritual cocoon... tainted revamps that which was to be righteous into something more… perfect morphed into forlornness I awake, galvanized only tenebrous ambitions are left malevolent perfection is amongst

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‘Tis I, your Bee, whom graciously implores your thanks, In which your sweet vision resides within my memory. A pure star twinkling bright as any of those fiery lamps, And with delicate tongue I write to you, my muse Emily, For my wearied creative air, your gentle breath revamps. ‘Twas in heaven where I believed sole divinity dwelt, Until my eyes welcomed waves lap upon their shore; Never have my veins flowed as swift nor my heart felt, A blazing white beauty my caress does wish to explore, And the world spins here with sense as not like before. While the clouds grow tall from horizons distant blue belt, On the eastern wind, my every kiss is blown to your door. Toward the sky I often gift a raised brow and humbly thank, For all moments of your true pleasure in which I gladly drank.

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Jan 5, 2013

Jan 5, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC

lee-janes

'Tis I, your Bee

‘Tis I, your Bee, whom graciously implores your thanks, In which your sweet vision resides within my memory. A pure star twinkling bright as any of those fiery lamps, And with delicate tongue I write to you, my muse Emily, For my wearied creative air, your gentle breath revamps. ‘Twas in heaven where I believed sole divinity dwelt, Until my eyes welcomed waves lap upon their shore; Never have my veins flowed as swift nor my heart felt, A blazing white beauty my caress does wish to explore, And the world spins here with sense as not like before. While the clouds grow tall from horizons distant blue belt, On the eastern wind, my every kiss is blown to your door. Toward the sky I often gift a raised brow and humbly thank, For all moments of your true pleasure in which I gladly drank.

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I'm clammy, I'm cold, I'm weak at the knees My eyelids are drooping, Spine tingles and freezes. My head is pounding, My heart is, too, But I know that I am Not down with the flu. The curse of the woman, Monthly revamps Dehydration, emotions, Bloating, and cramps. I want to go home, I'm not feeling too well. I watch the clock, Waiting for the bell. Living with this Is like living in hell.

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Jun 7, 2018

Jun 7, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC

AnonymousSpectacles

The Curse of the Woman

I'm clammy, I'm cold, I'm weak at the knees My eyelids are drooping, Spine tingles and freezes. My head is pounding, My heart is, too, But I know that I am Not down with the flu. The curse of the woman, Monthly revamps Dehydration, emotions, Bloating, and cramps. I want to go home, I'm not feeling too well. I watch the clock, Waiting for the bell. Living with this Is like living in hell.

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I've got this feeling That we are shifting Through our decisions They're never ending If all weight is lifted Carry me out in an instant I'm not who you expected My love is sometimes banished It hurts me, punishes me Shredded in pieces, my mind All this time, you sang well My eyes green, not with envy But with holy, a white spirit Down the hallway, I see you You're the one in danger Jumpstart my heart as it revs up And revamps itself from reverie My feet have been through a lot But as long as I'm breathing They'll float above the flood Suddenly it's not so deep anymore

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Jul 20, 2017

Jul 20, 2017 at 4:13 AM UTC

jacob-resendez

The Unvarying Commitment

I've got this feeling That we are shifting Through our decisions They're never ending If all weight is lifted Carry me out in an instant I'm not who you expected My love is sometimes banished It hurts me, punishes me Shredded in pieces, my mind All this time, you sang well My eyes green, not with envy But with holy, a white spirit Down the hallway, I see you You're the one in danger Jumpstart my heart as it revs up And revamps itself from reverie My feet have been through a lot But as long as I'm breathing They'll float above the flood Suddenly it's not so deep anymore

21

(This poem can be sung to the tune of "Little Brown Jug.") "Me and Kim Jong Un are friends; Me and him, we made amends. He rules with an iron fist-- Something that I can't resist. (Chorus) "Ha, ha, ha! Can’t you see? We are making history. Ha, ha, ha! Look at me! I just crossed the DMZ! "North Koreans live in fear. Many often disappear. Kim knows how to make 'em cower. That is how he keeps his power. (Chorus) "Let's watch him as he revamps His political prison camps. Torture's carried out inside; He says torture's justified. (Chorus) "Ultimate power goes to Kim. He decides your fate at whim. Sure, a few unlucky ones Were killed by anti-aircraft guns. (Chorus) "When discussions reconvene, Watch his propaganda machine. Speaking up is not worthwhile. Good chance you won't get a trial. (Chorus) "People here are thin, which means They must eat a lot of greens. Kim Jong Un is--I must state-- The only one who's overweight. (Chorus) "So he might have used starvation To teach a lesson to his nation. As long as they all give him praise, They will live to see more days. (Chorus) "This is what he's demonstrated: Human rights are overrated. Still, I love to fantasize That I'll get the Nobel Prize. "Ha, ha, ha! Can’t you see? We are making history. Ha, ha, ha! Look at me! I just crossed the DMZ!" -by Bob B (7-1-19)

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Jul 1, 2019

Jul 1, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC

bob-b

Photo Op at the DMZ

(This poem can be sung to the tune of "Little Brown Jug.") "Me and Kim Jong Un are friends; Me and him, we made amends. He rules with an iron fist-- Something that I can't resist. (Chorus) "Ha, ha, ha! Can’t you see? We are making history. Ha, ha, ha! Look at me! I just crossed the DMZ! "North Koreans live in fear. Many often disappear. Kim knows how to make 'em cower. That is how he keeps his power. (Chorus) "Let's watch him as he revamps His political prison camps. Torture's carried out inside; He says torture's justified. (Chorus) "Ultimate power goes to Kim. He decides your fate at whim. Sure, a few unlucky ones Were killed by anti-aircraft guns. (Chorus) "When discussions reconvene, Watch his propaganda machine. Speaking up is not worthwhile. Good chance you won't get a trial. (Chorus) "People here are thin, which means They must eat a lot of greens. Kim Jong Un is--I must state-- The only one who's overweight. (Chorus) "So he might have used starvation To teach a lesson to his nation. As long as they all give him praise, They will live to see more days. (Chorus) "This is what he's demonstrated: Human rights are overrated. Still, I love to fantasize That I'll get the Nobel Prize. "Ha, ha, ha! Can’t you see? We are making history. Ha, ha, ha! Look at me! I just crossed the DMZ!" -by Bob B (7-1-19)

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