"rigours" poems
We all have to daily eat and drink and also **** and ****
there isn't anything else more basic or common than this,
except a vital need to rest and get some adequate sleep
as the rigours of life take their toll on the body we keep.
Let's not forget the all-important function of breathing to stay alive
which depends so much on various conditions for anyone to thrive
and is the main ingredient for every creature's life on this world;
regardless of anything else it determines how well they're swirled.
We also have a need to keep our bodies and clothes clean
as our daily activities produce sweat and odour that is seen
and can be smelt from a distance which isn't very pleasant
making us wonder if a person noticed with is just a peasant.
There is also an inherent urge to love and be loved in return
which is what makes life worth living for those who discern,
and the very curious thought as to why we've been born at all
or the reason for our existence on this planet Earth we so call.
-----------------------------------------------
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
Here standing again
at the edge of the cliff,
struggling against the
force of the wind.
Drenched and cold,
thinking and wondering
what to do.
This is what I was seeking.
I wanted to feel the
storm in my bones.
Fearing what I want and
wanting what I fear.
Desiring and yearning for it,
yet distanced myself from it.
Never been more sure
about changing than now.
Angels are busy working and
trying to show visions
of heaven.
But here am I clawing the
ground trying to get hell for you.
Now I have to stop struggling,
for this striving and toiling are not
yielding desired fruits.
I'm so breathless from all this
going up and down
trying to make it work.
Rest is not so bad after all this
rigours of running around.
Dullness has taken over the heart
of one who suppose to rule.
Stagnation cannot be tolerated
and condoned or we all go down.
Change is needful urgently.
It is time for you to learn the balance.
I bring from the east,
I bring from the west,
I bring from the south,
I bring from the north
the power of balance.
It begins in the spirit.
We can balance anything.
Our voice, our work, our body.
You can even balance your sadness.
First you find patience.
Perhaps you will meet patience in this
sunlight and become good friends.
I will tell you again.
I will tell you again and again
until your inside knows.
It takes a long time to learn the art of balance.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
Silent, swiftly sliding through a mazy mix of memories
Confused by what is up and what is down.
I can’t be sure if what I see is quite correctly coloured:
Are these strange familiar sites my own home town?
I vaguely recollect that what I dreamt was what I saw
Though what I saw was maybe what I dreamt.
The quality of dreams reflects the quality of sleep
And nightmares always leave me quite unkempt.
Pleasant reveries come out of cheerful, happy thoughts:
A safe and soothing slumber calms the soul.
The rigours of the day are at best just locked away-
Except in dreams they sometimes take their toll.
Our ability to pick and choose the dreams we want to have
Is like hiding in a corner in a dome,
A feat that I achieved inside the dream I had last night.
You see, the brain just has a mind all of its own.
Jan 28, 2010
Jan 28, 2010 at 6:35 AM UTC
State of union
as we're unified, we're lateral
parallel,
paraphernalia in our religions
to add to this televised broadcast
forecasting short cuts and short comings
Sure—
I'm running out of excuses tongue-loosened painfully,
but who thought,
the chief that is,
invited everyone to our ghost dance
they stand and applaud,
Me at the helm of our podium
they **** and they gawk,
you at my breast plate
the air I drink is futile I cough,
But Is it kosher?
Nova Scotian landscapes supplementing dinner,
The candles on your dessert,
reminds me of our fire,
We once had, We flicker,
Once singular now plural -- yes adulting made us thorough,
through the rigours,
I feel different
YOU'RE TRIGGERED,
them posts traumatic symptoms I remind you of
frequently,
I listen
I sin again, I sin again
Differently,
You take me back,
Religiously,
And say,
meditation is key,
Khalad would be proud
emotionally I'm wolverine --
Untouchable,
But that was yesterday and I'm trynna say,
Sorry
I'm trynna be unguarded
as a point guard off the inbound,
Pointing to your tilted crown — Adjust it to your coils
Flag a waiter down,
Beef is not what I wanted
nor pleasant to your palette
major key — take the salmon
Overall I think we're better now,
I asked my mom about you
and my aunt about your culture
What you really need is closure
Instead of asking for permission,
settled for forgiveness,
you sweep your pride away in the name
the victim,
Treat me like I treated you
Treat me like you're bullet proof,
Treat me like those systematic flaws --
Unforgivable
You left me?
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 8:50 AM UTC
I watch the loping invalids in the courtyard
nil by nil by nil feet
How to describe a sensation such as heat
to them? The interminable sun and so on
I wonder if they understand that
Light itself is not heat
whereupon the bell sounds
their minds divide and fog in the somnolent air
I look at a Dupuytren in the room
Cord around the chair
His clothes hanging off him
Trying to move his remarkable shock of hair
From his eyes
My room looks out beyond the yard
It is high up - precarious
Through that picturewindow, the world without
is framed, beyond the walls the oldtown
spires and roofing
I see my own sadness, my impotence
In every inch of the heights
the girls come back, propping black bikes against
the gate;
my legs are wrapped in a blanket
and I feel nothing below my waist
Through a system of cables and consent
my companion molls in Bergonic poise
each day the room behind his eyes receded, the heart
lessening
the birds gathered around the bathroom doors to be fed
He read about Escher in bed
waiting to be plugged
unbeknownst rigours of treatment, and
unbeknownst methods
until he forgot those days in Margate
the sound of his nieces
and everything he read about Escher –
the light makes dull
the precision of the thorn
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 12:46 PM UTC
Hitting the eject
I get the hell away from here
and parachute into one more beer, a tonic at the end of a day when the shimmering heat in your eyes make you sway.
...and what would I say to another one?
I'd say, 'go on, a beer won't hurt'
the barman butts in,
but I,
being curt
ignore him and take a seat in the 'snug'
which as you may know is the one room in a pub where you can hug a pint all night long.
It is not too long and then the barman walks in with another pint of beer and a very dry gin,
he hands me the pint which I could not refuse
then settles himself down to tell me what's new in the news
and I let him sit in with his gin, and begin to think, I should not have come here, even though the beer is on draught,the barman's daft
and I get no peace
there is no release from the rigours of the day
I say to the barman,
'goodnight jack'
But I won't be back.
until I'm thirsty at sixty or sixty at six thirty..and I've enough of the alcohol stuff anyway.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
real as it is
she incurs the rigours
on her own in a void
far removed from rationality;
out of her element
esoteric whims float in and out
of her headspace;overruled
inexplicable visions,holographs;
phantoms from a past
seemingly remote
overshadow her mindscapes
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 9:40 AM UTC
I see the rigours of time
Etched on your sulky face
Though the sun's fingers caress
The brow of your ambitions
Nostalgia tinkles solemn bells
Of dreams maimed and cobwebbed
By time's blunt knife
I see you mourn
Life is molten wax that congeals
With a caress of the air
Life is a wagon swaggering downhill
A liberating spasms
Of wee wet dreams...
I see you mourn
I see your determination thawing
Like white icicles on white winter window pane
I see your patience wane in pain
Like dry cakes of mud in the African sun
I see your conscience rot and ooze
Black brackish slimy rot
Tomorrow they will declare you
A disaster no-go-area zone
I see you mourn
Emotions thunder, tempers glow
And voice a shrill mingle with unknown
Raucous whispers of the gods of doom
This world has been terribly nice to you
I see you whimper like a miserable dog
That has lost its tail
Brother you have lost your tale
I see you mourn.
-dougwa-
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
We are halted on the path
where a small amphibious mite
has sprung headlong into an unknown world,
its river home now out of sight.
Fingernail-size it shrinks on the path,
absorbing the colours of the gravelled ground
and somehow surviving
the rigours of walkers and riders around.
Its freedom now moves it from riverbank hollows
to find the instinctive role that it follows.
Cradled in cupped hands it is carried to water
but I explain its life lies elsewhere.
These precious moments shared with my daughter
are but part of the time which may see it grow
and spawn in the seasons yet to come,
while we witness a cycle that’s just begun.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 9:54 PM UTC
In other to have order
restored by the power
that be,
the elites must have a
message to harness
the rule of law to affect
the public and protect
the people they govern.
Restructuring is a
prerequisite for a
time such as this.
The states must be given
more power to handle affairs
of the people.
True federalism is to put up
a structure for the sake of
posterity and the benefits that
comes out of it for the
people involved.
As simple as it is,
we as a people must be
ready to confront all the
rigours of austerity of which
some amount of sacrifices
are expected regardless of the
outcome and results from our
collective decisions.
Restructuring is a must for proper performance and perfection for
a magnificent and excellently
successful unified progress.
Balance must be restated and restored.
A valued economic recovery and growth
is expected to reach its peak at the end.
Our lives as a people must be valued for all this to work and marvelously manifest itself.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
My blood ran hot and fast
And my lungs were still full bore
With limbs as supple as water
And joints that never ached
My body could be relied upon
For the rigours of life and more
I had muscles that were hard
And other things as well
I could see without wearing glasses
And the mills hadn't ruined my ears
Throughout those happy years
It never occurred to me
That it wouldn't stay that way
By Phil Roberts
Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 7:07 AM UTC
You're an individual.
You're unique.
And it's important that you
create the space to
express your uniqueness,
and become the fully expressed,
fully unleashed,
fully unlimited vibrancy that you are.
There's a stage in a mans life
when he will keep
every other thing aside
and stand alone without fear
to confront whatever obstacle
that stand in his way,
even intimidation from
the most powerful
or care that beset him
and infest his life,
his inadequacies he will confront
and challenge them with boldness.
Even when the
demons of hell be invoked
and conjured up to come forth
and do their very worse,
he knows they shall not pass
and neither shall they prevail,
because he has been through a lot,
he doesn't really cared
anymore what happens to him,
he has come a long way
and he's here now,
that is all that matters.
He speaks the truth
that only him can speak,
so profound and will so piercingly hurts
the ears of the guilty ones.
he will boldly stand on the edge
of the mountain top
and let the wind of life pass forcefully
through and over him.
he becomes a determined soul
who confronts the odds in his life,
with the help of the almighty,
he attains the consciousness of the cosmic,
his spirit is now so awakened,
he becomes one with universe,
so enlightened,
he is now an adept to
help in the down world,
carrier of the divine light,
protector of the weak,
full of vigor,
always ready,
a doer of the impossible,
he now becomes
the keeper of the flame,
his back bent from the rigours
of suffering and pain,
showing the marks of
the whiplash he received,
his brows so wrinkled with
inner wisdom that comes out of the
time spent in long hours
of fasting and meditations,
calm with the inner beauty of the spirit,
not intimidating or forceful,
he commands authority,
exacts influence and check anything
that's not edifying from
influencing his environment
and atmosphere he created for himself
and then allow others into his world
to experience the realm
of power bestowed on him,
he is indeed now,
a peculiar fellow,
a workman that needs not be afraid,
one set apart for good works,
for he has chosen the path of his destiny.
Yes,there is such a man amongst us.
© 2017, Emeka Mokeme.All rights reserved
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
As the Sun sets o’er the western hills,
Cool breeze blows through the vales,
The birds come back to their nest
The world settles for a well deserved rest…
A dream full of places, friends and relations
A kaleidoscope of colours of great God’s creations
Scenes and faces, sometimes a blur, sometimes clear
Bringing a smile onto the face at times, sometimes inciting fear….
Wake up in the morning with the first sun ray,
Dew fresh, ready for the rigours of the day.
A new beginning, new challenge and scope,
For everyone to live, bringing undying hope.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
For the mendicant of thoughts,
Sleep is a virtuous incentive.
For the explorers of thoughts,
It is simply a cursed routine.
It is not a surprise why the hungry,
Seldom bother how the food is cooked-
Or why the chef's palate is insatiable.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC
You can explain how the snow falls
Each frozen flake descending from the sky
You can show me how the seasons change
Why the rich earth becomes dry
You can teach me how to pass the rigours of school
Or how to throw a ball
You can explain why the world is round
How gravity makes us fall
But I ask you about love
And your shoulders start to shrug
"It's just what you feel," you say
But something in my heart tugs
I continue to ponder this question
As I grow taller
And each season changes and multiplies
As my heart becomes smaller
I ask so many this question
But no one seems to understand
Until I meet someone mysterious yet bright
Who makes a strange demand
"What do you think?"
All along I had never guessed these words
Perhaps it is sacrificing time
Instead of doing what you prefer
Maybe it's being a listening ear
And simply offering help
Or bringing someone flowers
While still being yourself
Love is to each of us
What we define it to be
But the best explain I have found
Is placing someone else above thee
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 10:09 PM UTC
There is absolutely
no one who is
completely normal.
Our configuration has lapses.
Even our gifts and
talents makes us abnormal.
We are uniquely fashioned with
different forms, types and shapes,
being transmogrified daily
by different types of vibration and
subtle energies.
How we react when pushed to
the wall by rigours of pressures
within and without reveals our
innate nature,
shows our hearts and hidden strength.
How we react to what we hear
or said to us is what really counts.
Don't ever expect me to be like you,
No never!,
because I am standing on a
different platform from where
I view the world.
I am wired differently,
an odd fellow and peculiar in nature,
dancing beautifully and gracefully to
the beat of the drum and tune of the
music I hear,
for my path is definitely different,
and that is my glory.
Don't take it seriously,
it is just personal,
for i dance to a different drummer.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 3:19 PM UTC
#*
Finish what you started
Think what you want
Steps taken, mistaken
Never forsaken
Lossless or with loss
The words, always well played
Thoughtfully or thoughtless, gained
Never tossed
Mild milieu
Boundlessly, unbound
Rigours and rumours
Rivers surpass
Never exhaust*
🌿🌿
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 8:03 AM UTC