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hope ann webb Jun 2016
2-29-16
With zoey on my mind
Dedicated to Zoey Maryann Lynn Sowers

She has his cheeks, his nose, his chin
Her hair and ears, she gets from him
We didn’t get to see your first lost tooth
We haven't got to see you shoot hoops
We weren't there for your first scraped knee
We didn’t see your first heartbreak
I know they are there, always by your side
Just wanted you to know, how much we love you
And no matter what our love for you can never die
My niece you are, my niece you''ll be,
From here until eternity. Perhaps that’s when
We will get to see all the beauty, love, and fun
Inside of you, believe, we did try, to be a part
When we stopped getting to see you it tore us all apart
Our hearts, yearn to see your beautiful smile
Our hearts, hurt to hear of you thinking you have a defeat
When I see your face, I glow inside, with pride
Knowing that you are my niece, and what a beautiful person you are
With time, and hope, and prayer perhaps, we will see you soon, in a little while
Wish we coulda see you all dressed up for soccer, with your cleats
Some day we hope we will be able to attend,
To see your face, one day as someone's lucky bride,
We hope that you will always know, somewhere in the deep
You are and always will my first beautiful niece, I will keep
The memories I had, the pictures to show, the bits
We got to witness, and be in your life.
I hear its by your choice, to not speak,
Or look at me. It hurts I wont lie
I'm your Aunt Hope, I always will be
I hope that I  am someone you will come to see
as your start the larger part of your journey
This crazy world we live in no doubt, it will be rough
I know though, what you have in you, you are tough
I guess I have to accept that I will just be the one who sits,
Who waits to see if you will ever acknowledge me.
I want you to know that through all this strife.
I am your Aunt, and will be praying.
For you to come through the other side,
Much stronger, even greater, and be able to have pride
In who you are, in what you can be,
in all this world we live in, know in your mind,
Perhaps just in mine, you will always have me,
If you need a shoulder, if you need a friend.
I would forever be there, my love for you is not pretend
My niece, you are, my niece you will be.
And I will wait patiently, and if only , to be
Just a friend, that is fine by me.
For an afterthought, my dear. You are my first niece ZOEY!
Laston Simuzingili linkedin with this American
maverick freelancing writing scout,
(and word maven par excellence
Matthew Scott Harris always ha sellout),
thru Spoken Word route, a popular global
Facebook poetry forum prodded me to venture,

without shadow of a doubt, and try my hand
to craft, this rhyme for that reason tout
ting expertise (mine) forging metrical
syncopation, which electronically soundless shout,
though tribalism within Lusaka, Zambia beyond
my literary purview hence any objection

i.e. cerebral workout, sans the following
amateurishly wrought  gobbledygook by devout atheist
please do not be shy to call me out,
or send strongarm lance of the law if I
unwittingly commit any faux pas, this author,
who took mini crash (course) test dummy  
about said convoluted titled topic unbeknownst

to him as little as Trout
Fishing in America,
cuz he gets this hooked Semitic Schnozzle snout
stuck, while groveling, ferreting, expanding
his knowledge base no matter he doth spout -
whale visiting unfamiliar leviathan African bailiwick
may deliver just deserved desserts fallout.

According to the following Google url search result,
I reddit at whatsapp
http://www.qfmzambia.com/2018/10/07/
tribalism-has-no-place-in-zambia-
First Republican President

Kenneth Kaunda opened
potential Pandora box trap
expressing honest opinion, and observed
discrimination predicated on snap
judgement, or based on tribe equally

unfair methodology to foster, and rocket rap
pore, and ethnic background as well
owns no place in Zambia, cuz smeared pap
(as conk curd by ghost of Milton Shapp),

plus Doctor Kaunda also says family names
in tandem should not determine,
who to associate with, any more than nap
pulled lying flat hair, but rather character of hearts,
viz each one of every Zambian availing their lap
necessarily if seat space in short supply.

Speaking at a vision
ambassadors promoting peace
campaign fundraising dinner,
Doctor Kaunda says increase
in toto with discrimination,
suspicion, hatred, betrayal, malice, fleece

sing (the golden calf)
re: greed, selfishness, grease
sing palms, and other
negative behavior release
zing threatening opposition
to zeitgeist, and core values crease
and crimp unity if left unchecked.

He has recalled that during
struggle for independence,
people from various
backgrounds humming and purring
worked hand in glove together,

realizing that they were, spurring
above everything else,
brothers and sisters of
one nation hungry stirring
potential for harmony whirring.

Dr. Kaunda says the “One Zambia One Nation” slogan
coined many decades ago still holds
true and continues starring Hulk Hogan
to unite Zambian’s together as one motley crue
clinging as one to solid state craft toboggan.

He says Zambia remains
a beacon of peace in Africa,
that dare not smother
snapchat, nor shutterfly - oh brother
scuttling important all Zambian citizens
should pay obeisance with mother
land maintaining grew ving
peace and loving one another.

Meanwhile Doctor Kaunda reminded young
people in the country ascending the rung
of success they have a big role to play
with trappings of pride slung

in weaving together unity among unsung
swiftly tailored heroes, as sowers
reaping luxe fabrics of peace among
divinity, integrity, magnanimity,
and unity for this country.

He has however commended President
Edgar Lungu for his efforts in uniting recent
dichotomy, sans the various people in the country,
And speaking at the same event,

National Guidance and reminescent
Religious Affairs Minister
Reverend Godfridah
Sumaili sought riches for indigent -

says national unity and urgent
peace critical for development
of the geographical extent
spanning entire country

Reverend Sumaili says difficult
no matter how fervent
for Zambia to develop
if no unity among Zambians.

And earlier in his speech, Commodores
Vision Ambassador to Zambia
Chairperson Misheck Kombe yours
truly expressed concern to jumpstart
solution regarding regionalism and tribalism at heart
tearing Zambia apart, like inures

reflux resignation of meal,
thus Mr. Kombe underscores
how important each and every shores
Zambian to join the crusade complacent
against tribalism and regionalism
because it retards development for s'mores!
Kelley A Vinal Dec 2015
Wander, wander, wander
The terrain is rough here
The roads are steep
The people mean
well
The air sings, exhaling carbon dioxide
The streets are high
Whistleblowers, lawnmowers, money sowers

It's nice when it rains though
A prophet once proffered a parable,
A wheatable teaching and tarable,
     Concerning the needs
     Of a sowers sown seeds
That require a soil that's arable.
Nicole Bonomi Apr 2016
I told you the ticking madness was enough to turn it into a panic race, so detached from all that we are made of, we become nothing we are made from. Now ingesting genetically assembled seeds - that don’t deserve the name seed at all. For seed is life, she belongs to mother earth, not a synthetic corporate beast.

A patented man made pill that sprouts an idea of life, a deception, that when ingested in it’s varied shelved forms and assimilated, draws us further and further away from nature, and our nature, and man, now part robotic manifestation through assimilation alone.

And they come with their chains and capitalist whips to break the backs of the earth reapers and sowers who fed yesterday, who fed their fathers, chaining them into a prison unbreakable, suffocating beneath a system controlled by paper. But surely man, his free thought, seed and crop, is more valuable than paper slavery?

And our brother labours in pain, all but to produce a good, or a bad that the unsuspecting haggles for, all because their growing inner robot has a dogmatic pining to be more than nature itself. He seeks supernatural, he seeks fame and status, and to be a god, but that “god” has no concept of the cosmos he was set forth to know, to praise and to be praised by, so instead he worships artificial idols.  

And the fight continues. And the madness ticks on, debilitating the organic ones; seed robbery after seed robbery, crop seize and acquisition after policy, after policy, after tariff after bill and there is no bailout. It’s all woven into a web of intricacies, leaving no room for natural, no room for humble.

Then they say the meek shall inherit the earth, and I wonder when, and by question alone I am reminded of the ticking madness. I am reminded that natural, never questions time.
Always in my hearing
Each time I ran out of my track
My conscience shouts!
You have been warned Olajide
It shouted so many times
Remember,says mother's voice


So soon to have forgotten
Mother seated at the edge
Of her wooden bed
At the corner of her bed saying
''Olajide my son
You are my hope


My season
My morning, noon and evening time
The seed
I have been watering
My vineyard you are''
My conscience remember me


All parent are sowers
All they need is a return
A bountiful one
My son, my son
Are you counting my calls
And you said yes


You are my seed
Be viable
You were implored
Don't be spoilt
And know the son of whom you are


My whole go with you
As whole of snell shell
Goes all ways with it
Mother prayed
As you stepped out
To the future


As the spinner are never,
Tired of spinning their cotton
The weaver works on their
And fire blazes always in the,
Blacksmith hut
Mother's voice, remember
My conscience says.
S Smoothie Sep 2018
Another tradgedy
I scrape myself up off the floor yet again
pooling what Left I can catch of me before it seeps into the surrounds
dignity and faith these are all I have
even hope seems a mountain too sheer to climb
the next time I’ll pray for death
or some reason to explicate it all
what use is there when fractals
are all that remain of my higher self
a mass of confusion
of bits repeated
over and at different angles
too shattered to come together cleanly
or even orderly
a disarrangement of shards
shoved into a dark sheath
labeled Eve
to be used and abused
trapped by patriarchy
of the foul unrighteous kind
she endures because she can
she is strength
she is in all things grand
but one weakness
is all it takes
to wash my blood off your hands
and when all the bits of her are grains of sand
only faith can keep her together
as she crumbles to oblivion
defiant and stoic they try to delete her
still bits of her remain
and conscience
will engulf
the sowers
of injustice
and her birth
is her day of clarity
outside of deception
She will be renewed
And in the universe
she will conspire
once again
to prove the depth of her strength
and return The rites of love
to those it was
stolen from.
Sally A Bayan Aug 2018
We are all planters and sowers
in this huge field...where seeds
of graces and blessings, as well
as trials and tribulations (i call
them weeds), are strewn in all
places...made to blend...to help
shape and strengthen our faith,
character, our emotional stamina...
all these seeds and weeds, paint
our earthly existence with bright
and darkened hues: blue, gray, black,
green...red, purple, yellow ochre, bronze,
and countless other colors of the universe.
it seems, we human beings are born with
coloring books, bearing our names..it's up
to us to paint them on canvas, or in words
...it's up to us, to bring light to our own
darkness, or,  to make them blacker than
a starless midnight......maybe an ebony
horizon to those blinded by stubborn beliefs...

truths that weren't perceptible then,
are much more visible and vivid now
i recall...when troubles piled up then,
i forgot to pause...to analyze,

i saw small alleys, when there were
wider streets...it didn't occur to me,
i must have the fortitude...to search...

i saw crowds, when there was much
space on this earth...failed to realize
that there were lessons to learn from
crowds, that i could create better space,
that these weeds also bring graces...

while looking at the atmosphere, my
eyes, my mind were totally eclipsed,
almost blinded...seeing only dismal skies,
when there could've been sunlight,
if i wanted to...within myself, or around
me...regardless, if it was stormy outside.

i could've created a gap from grief
i forgot that, light and dark take turns
...come what may.....they alternate...

much lessons and wisdom were gained
from younger days...........it is true...
we cannot change what we've started
yet, we can begin where we are right now
and create a different ending...



Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    August 16, 2018
"You can't go back and change the beginning,
  but you can start where you are and change
  the ending."        
    -----by C. S. Lewis
betterdays Aug 2014
let go the words
like seeds,
to the vast and
windblown
sky

let them settle,
where they may.
some may flourish,
take root and be...

a happy little flower,
a great oak tree.

some may lay dormant,
until the right season.
some may become,
a life's new reason.

some may fall
to ravening birds
some may fall
ans flourish
yet never be heard.

and sadly some may
wither and die...
without ever understanding, why....

we as poets,
truly are,
just the sowers of seeds.

to the winds....
to the sky,
let your words go,
let them fly...
to some say, adiue
see you soon.
to some goodbye.

but let them be...
borne on the wind
...to make poetry
inspiration from the last line of dedpoets
"dedpoet"
a truly great work...
thanks for the inspiration.....
hope you don't mind the borrow.
Andr-o-meda May 2013
Shattered faces on the moon
Melting clocks, melting too soon

Broken hearts left on the floor
Because they can beat anymore

People crying, people trying
To pull through the night

Sowers of light
Explode before their eyes

Falling to the ground
People breaking down

As they slip through the cracks
More thunder claps

Sirens wailing
People despairing

It's all over much too soon
SelinaSharday Feb 2018
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I came upon this place of poetry.
There are Poems laying at the Poetry Alter.
Found a poem I also wanted to give some water.
At the Poetry's ALTER
Pieces looked upon.
From the fore front they've gone.
Yet they are special and still stretched carefully out.
Like flowers just waiting there to sprout.
Poems to be read upon like planted seeds.
For anyone who needs,
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I came upon this place of poetry.
There are poems laying at the Poetry Alter.
Found a poem I also wanted to give some water.
We are the Writers, the sowers, the reapers.
We are workers the laborers the Poetry Keepers.
Let us browse the books, the internet nooks, the newspaper shoots,
But let us not be guilty of being overlooking crooks.
Let us not go ignoring the massive carefully written books.
But let us sow
Were we shall reap, let us read that we may grow,
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I ran across this place of Poetry.
Let us pour WATER.
On the poems left lying at the Poetry's Alter.
Dear writers of poems, songs and books you have now been watered.
This water consists of vitamins, and mineral for you to grow.
May more from you develop And more of you may sow?
You're watered by tears of joy, laughter and refreshing rains.
Your Poems are seeds, grown and sown it forever abides,
and its uniqueness remains.
S.A.M. All Rights Reserved © 2007
uniqueness of individual poems from the heart they have grown been shown shared and dared to be traveled passages tucked in given unique places. For the love of poetry I wrote this one..
Onoma Mar 2017
Eruptions of pigeons,

from the loose teeth of

buildings, hacking whirlwind

romances sharing the thought

of flight.

Leveling with streets shrinking

and enlarging life...outflanked

by urbane sowers.

Shifty to the seed in rootless

takes, spur of the moment,

sparring impressions.

The strength of strangers driving

home the impossible arbitrariness

of pass, and be passed.

The canker of count in loss--rage

to the wall that's hole, from where

they know one another not.

Up ahead, The Empire State Building

stands like a towering depersonalized

roll call.
Drunk poet Jul 2016
When testimonies are left out,
And you sing in distress,
Your hope and fate worn out,
With a sarcastic smile around folks,
Your worries like a cloud of smokes,
You wanted to touch the best.

Thick drop of rain from your eyes,
As your happiness dies,
Eyeballs dancing in moisture field,
Your soul in distress where she hid.

Thick drop of rain in your eyes,
Oozed out due to sympathizes,
Then you Think nature has turn against you,
The world too big for you,
Or perhaps only when the sky is blue,
Who is that pilot? your pilot, you don’t know who.

The rays and beams of the sun seems unfriendly,
Smiles on other folks seems deadly,
The world is too complicated for you.

After your tears on hard to rocks,
Your cries and your sober reflection,
The Sowers grain fell on my Palms,
You claimed blessings, even psalms,
Where is your opportunity,
Are you not a liability?

You pray for a better chance,
Cause He once path way in the sea,
And yours? Or can’t you see?
You shall have that breakthrough,
And you shall dance!
LayaRoses Sep 2016
"What do you do when your worlds come crashing starting to fall apart

What do you think when you see your dreams shining in your sky suddenly drop at such a frightening site

Shes been asked so many questions and she gives no answers only holds with in

She's been walking on thin air alone
Guiding her self through infinity, she's been so far away from all that can be touched

I see her gazing at the darkness and in her arising stare so proud, head held up high though all that she's been fighting for slipped through her finger tips like grains of sand

She know that all she need is a spark that would guide her through  

Ones she was empty  yet her mind was a mad running revere filled with life, beauty and fantasy that she's been hiding so well from existence

She knows The wold is selfish and naive yet she carries her self gloriously and pried with every stork she took filling her canvas

In the way her fingers move with her eyes lining the sketch she's madly in love with all I could see was passion

I see her walking across a nerow rode that's made out of roses, thorns and stone

Been driven by an image that She only can see so clear in a mixture of nightmares and dreams

She knows where the path will lead
A rare talent not everyone comprehends indeed

She has no words only wings of gold that paint the dark sky when she's sowers as a masterpiece"
For her..
LeoZilba Nov 2020
Crippled thief.........I have sown.........you steal in darkness..........I sow now my field.........my food feeds menwomen..........my little plow shall BE
PROTECTED..............
Now finally
Faith........................I look to you...........my squirrels.......to protect all I am.......don’t let the thief take my sow...........for I will not fight......for if you will not......this is naught
The finality of the soul is so hard to show.......it’s for all.....not me....not you......you cloaked dagger of harbingers fright....you glassed managerie of darkhind vert.....you want....you NEED.....you no different
HELP
WHO SHALLgift the feigned apprentice his just consequence of LIGHT...?
I shall not
If in the frosted vessel of this plantations skinned submissions vessel.......if you pass the torch to.....totottotototo.............the ****** hunter..........shame
I leave my seed at YOUR mercy...........hark the *******,...no.......his ******* not what you think.......that’s his cloak..........his is so tremored inside......he cloaks with outward flaw..........
Will
U
Let
Me
My
Beavers pearl
Will u let it be
..........devoured

Help
Me
It’s Mine!
ymmiJ Apr 2019
We are the sowers of seeds
These little buds we choose to share
Need careful thought, love, and care
Not meant to be just strewn about to dry
Someone’s life lessons splayed out to just die
So whoever plants these in hopes of growth
have already done so, go forth and sow
Abeer Oct 2023
Hush, child, sound a little noise
We jump too quick to disturbance
Stretch, or unstretch
Our limbs to something interesting

When we can watch
The death, or narrow victory
Of someone killing a woman
We treat them no differently

The ambulance alarms a noise
It shifts because of doppler
And us, when we lay petals
To that someone looking for
Someone interesting

They lay crude, upon lilies
And we, let by hatret, in nature
Applaud every gunshot, on a man
Nature of whom is uninvited, black

The fever grew, the madness grew
In prayer, we drew our faith, turned
Soon, there were no petals left
Our hearts filled with empty, undiscovered

When we phased out, into that light
Twice as much heavy, less as bound
We felt our shape, as silent sowers
Of that poison, we tossed around

Sound that little noise
Yenson Apr 2019
We shall reap what we sow that I know
even though I have nothing to sow since
from my first harvest all those years ago
for my field has its fruits since than and now
enough to see me through and more
I share when I can and give when I can
and save a little for famine may come a times

I will not come to your field to steal
neither will I beg or borrow from you
I will not pour weeds seeds on your field
neither will I trod or damage what is yours
I have nothing to sow, my fields have enough fruits
to my maker I give thanks for blessings

So pardon me when I say
the sowers have more to do than me
for the tilt and toil and walk the land
sowing here and sowing there
in all weathers come rain or shine
I looked above and question why

The Good lord said I'll tell you why
they see your field and want theirs like yours
but when you planted your seeds earlier in life
you did it all with love and wished none harm
in love it grew fertile and bountiful again and again
for real love and truth endures and you are blessed.......
YOU WILL REAP WHAT YOU SO
MARK MY WORDS, I TELL YOU STRAIGHT
ONE DAY YOU WILL WEEP TEARS BITTERLY AND IN PAIN
FOR NOTHING GOES AMISS IN THIS REALM
YOU WILL REAP WHAT YOU SOW!
AS SURELY AS NIGHT AND DAY
Once hundreds roamed and called their home ,
built over centuries and still ,
they lived in peace ,
and the land bore fruit ,
and they feasted upon their labours ,
still,.
Children played out in the sun ,
life was pleasant on the side of the mountain side .

But war Lords grinding machines of war ,
the Ottoman  empire was no more .

The battle cry of Independence Day ,
and all the love would be blown away .

To kingdom come with  bullets and guns ,.
and homes left in ruins as the people ran .
All those plans to one day return ,
their homes lay empty ,
And the birds built nests ,
and trees gathered their roots .
And so where once a family’s prayed ,
gave thanks to God or Allah for their day ,
Mother Natures sowers got to work on,
what man had built brick by brick

For over the years as time passed by ,
no war machines or diggers could ever replace what war had ***** .


Just a ghostly reminder of mans need to grab the land ,
for immoral  greed of  evil man .

And so if you listen and be still ,
what lies behind the farmers gate can still be heard ,
the towns folk chatter beside this mountain side ,
and the sound of laughter as evening draws nigh .

— The End —