"therefrom" poems
when god lets my body be
from each brave eye shall sprout a tree
fruit that dangles therefrom
the purpled world will dance upon
between my lips which did sing
a rose shall beget the spring
that maidens whom passion wastes
will lay between their little *******
my strong fingers beneath the snow
into strenuous birds shall go
my love walking in the grass
their wings will touch with her face
and all the while shall my heart be
with the bulge and nuzzle of the sea
50k
180
As if some little Arctic flower
Upon the polar hem—
Went wandering down the Latitudes
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer—
To firmaments of sun—
To strange, bright crowds of flowers—
And birds, of foreign tongue!
I say, As if this little flower
To Eden, wandered in—
What then? Why nothing,
Only, your inference therefrom!
3.1k
Sweeten, let’s, a coast of dun
Therefrom which, the tides erode,
A castle to blind the mighty sun
Affront to that Poseidon, and others
On the beach.
***** the walls and battlements
Fair crystal arm the turrets
The audience of the hermit *****
Pay silent homage to the throne
Intricate are its libraries, etched
Our history inside the tomes.
Only grains of perfect stock
From which antiquity, in full credit,
Will revere the lot
And poetry of human might
Shaped and forged to kiss the day of light
Only that may suffice.
In this endeavor, no ancients will tenet
Its salty beams but the children of the morn
For we shall build the universe
From when progenitors are born.
Before it began, we were dismayed
Our future, castle, by waves waylaid
Aspirations sink, now, from shape.
But, Gods, I curse you!
Let my destiny rise free!
Look now before you:
A stone in ocean of mediocrity!
All these that build up forts
Lack in that spirit to fight, retort
**** you, **** you, waters of my doubt
Turn false the shades of realism
Which I thought it all about
**** you, **** you sands of time
For now all that founds my dreams
Is erosion of the shoreline sand.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
‘Whenever I plunge my arm, like this,
In a basin of water, I never miss
The sweet sharp sense of a fugitive day
Fetched back from its thickening shroud of gray.
Hence the only prime
And real love-rhyme
That I know by heart,
And that leaves no smart,
Is the purl of a little valley fall
About three spans wide and two spans tall
Over a table of solid rock,
And into a scoop of the self-same block;
The purl of a runlet that never ceases
In stir of kingdoms, in wars, in peaces;
With a hollow boiling voice it speaks
And has spoken since hills were turfless peaks.’
‘And why gives this the only prime
Idea to you of a real love-rhyme?
And why does plunging your arm in a bowl
Full of spring water, bring throbs to your soul?’
‘Well, under the fall, in a crease of the stone,
Though precisely where none ever has known,
Jammed darkly, nothing to show how prized,
And by now with its smoothness opalized,
Is a grinking glass:
For, down that pass
My lover and I
Walked under a sky
Of blue with a leaf-wove awning of green,
In the burn of August, to paint the scene,
And we placed our basket of fruit and wine
By the runlet’s rim, where we sat to dine;
And when we had drunk from the glass together,
Arched by the oak-copse from the weather,
I held the vessel to rinse in the fall,
Where it slipped, and it sank, and was past recall,
Though we stooped and plumbed the little abyss
With long bared arms. There the glass still is.
And, as said, if I ****** my arm below
Cold water in a basin or bowl, a throe
From the past awakens a sense of that time,
And the glass we used, and the cascade’s rhyme.
The basin seems the pool, and its edge
The hard smooth face of the brook-side ledge,
And the leafy pattern of china-ware
The hanging plants that were bathing there.
‘By night, by day, when it shines or lours,
There lies intact that chalice of ours,
And its presence adds to the rhyme of love
Persistently sung by the fall above.
No lip has touched it since his and mine
In turns therefrom sipped lovers’ wine.’
2.7k
Because our talk was of the cloud-control
And moon-track of the journeying face of Fate,
Her tremulous kisses faltered at love’s gate
And her eyes dreamed against a distant goal:
But soon, remembering her how brief the whole
Of joy, which its own hours annihilate,
Her set gaze gathered, thirstier than of late,
And as she kissed, her mouth became her soul.
Thence in what ways we wandered, and how strove
To build with fire-tried vows the piteous home
Which memory haunts and whither sleep may roam,—
They only know for whom the roof of Love
Is the still-seated secret of the grove,
Nor spire may rise nor bell be heard therefrom.
2.5k
And now emerges white bits of sunshine;
Eyes urged to wake, and tongues to pray;
To Lord of the worlds and of nights and days;
That we be pure in the heart and mind;
Feet saileth lower amongst one another;
With such admiration that lasts forever;
Faithful heads bow and touch the pious floor;
Pearls of rewards doubling behind the door.
And His beauty is deeper than solace;
More luminous than desire and grace;
He asks for love, chastity, and firm abstinence;
He longs for faith, modesty, and true penitence.
Praises and glory are floated to Allah;
Mouths recite and phrase la ilaha illallah.
And claim their very peace upon beloved Muhammad;
With dear respect from the deepest roots of hearts.
Winds might blow and grass might be green;
But we fear still, the restless Might of the Unseen;
He who watches and renders all our affairs;
He who breathes our blood and strands of our hair;
And do fear Him and seek His Abode;
For we shall cease and retreat to our Lord;
As this earth fades, where His end starts therefrom;
And sees our deeds since we dwelled in mothers' wombs;
But Allah is ever fair, filial, and loving;
He is the Keenest, and the Most Heroic king;
He rules perfectly the East and the West;
He listens to what flows within every chest;
And He is All-Forgiving and ever Merciful;
He is swift to both the living and the dead;
He relieves tears of the believing souls;
He lives and sparks, within our very breath.
And He is but ecstatic like the rainbow;
Nothing is more countable than His tomorrow;
His Warm Hands are what we all rush for;
His Words are a poem, like never before.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.
************************************ ****************
1. When the heaven is cleft asunder.
2. And when the stars have fallen and scattered;
3. And when the seas are burst forth;
4. And when the graves are turned upside down (and they bring out their contents)
5. (Then) a person will know what he has sent forward and (what he has) left behind (of good or bad deeds) .
6. O man! What has made you careless concerning your Lord, the Most Generous?
7. Who created you, fashioned you perfectly, and gave you due proportion;
8. In whatever form He willed, He put you together.
9. Nay! But you deny the Recompense (reward for good deeds and punishment for evil deeds) .
10. But verily, over you (are appointed angels in charge of mankind) to watch you,
11. Kiraman (honourable) Katibin writing down (your deeds) ,
12. They know all that you do.
13. Verily, the Abrar (pious and righteous) will be in delight (Paradise):
14. And verily, the Fujjar (the wicked, disbelievers, sinners and evil-doers) will be in the blazing Fire (Hell) ,
15. In which they will enter, and taste its burning flame on the Day of Recompense,
16. And they (Al-Fujjar) will not be absent therefrom (i.e. will not go out from the Hell) .
17. And what will make you know what the Day of Recompense is?
18. Again, what will make you know what the Day of Recompense is?
19. (It will be) the Day when no person shall have power (to do) anything for another, and the Decision, that Day, will be (wholly) with Allah.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
Spaces distance themselves--
to isolate the purpose of longing.
A depth where memory forgets
itself...spaces backwashed
lucidly.
Genuine seeing sets in--as if a
searchlight disconnected from
its lighthouse...swimming toward
the horizon's conclusion.
Longingly, as it is to bleed and
be bled for...the exchange of the
heart's chalice.
Eyes are lit by the asking of
salvation...so many eyes...tenderly
placed for their hapless duration.
Spaces distance themselves--to
isolate the purpose of longing...it
is therefrom a genuine seeing sets
in.
How else may emotion unfold...how
else may this temple stand amidst
the wilderness?
A temple destined to die into life...
as life is irreducible from a genuine
seeing.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
Breath is never
baited, its sea has
already parted.
In its place a mountain
stands, a man lain across
its peak.
There exposed, what bone
may box a breast, O dear Mother--
never off kilter.
Therefrom a thread so gold, marrow
met skin, up and away...
a steady pull by the tail end
of an angel.
Relative as the bent forefront of love's law,
where all reunion leaves no remnant.
To find a faith so becoming, space leaves
room for space verging on itself.
How blue the pearl, how circular
the sky of its sea...how golden grows
the thread that breaks with every breath.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
As though the breeze would carry
Her words across the sea
Right from within this cosy bower
To some far away places
And be heard also in the palace
Of the Queen of England,
When she whispered to me--my grand--
Delightful dame, in the raw:
"Art thou a one-trick pony
In play, my stallion honey?"
"Nay!" quipped I with guffaw.
I can mount fore and aft,
Thy fount, as it's apt.
Then did I turn on the shower--
The showers of blessing on her with care
From the station she did to me declare.
And therefrom I did hence perspire,
Besides, in deference to her soul's desire.
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
I want to say "Morning" to you every day,
When I wake up sweetly at first light,
To drink coffee with you under lilac
On the open terrace, laughing on sight.
I want to plunge into my thought darkness
And get only major of them therefrom.
They mantle my day, and it'll be cleaner.
And happiness will be my master for all.
I want to throw out all foul thoughts
About my fierce fortune in whole.
I want to revive, to cheer up, to uncover
And get off meek beggings forever at all.
I want to stop making the Deity from pain.
But I've got nothing work out at full.
And I continue to kowtow to my pain,
Begging for save as the latest fool.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 4:20 PM UTC
It takes on deaths horrible form thereunto,
Breaching the seas pensively askew;
Spun brutally from troubling winds of false accord,
Ignored by expression but surely explored.
O 'tis madness, voices beat savagely in my head,
Upon quiet of night as insanely they wilfully imbed.
Through mortal fear I am awakened,
There's nowhere pleasant to run 'tis my chastened.
Of life's despairs nor demons wrathful hold,
Hast thereof nightmares foretold.
In the chilling air, killing heedful wisdoms impaired,
Had I faltered, I'd been sadly unprepared.
Pressed onwards I could only dream,
With care it'd be a future supreme.
Deep in my bleeding thoughts I tried to grasp it,
Yet every brutal bound 'twas likely unfit.
Ah, let evil echo through my disrupting mind,
The faces, that blushed mostly unkind.
A hideous desire inexplicable, entombed from within,
Hastily it beckons thereunto an original sin.
The voices, whose horrid duty I deplore,
Of the old vast despairs it will implore.
But alone I am 'tis surely surpassing a realm of rage,
And all I seen, mattered naught offstage.
Regrettably in the valley of despair I have always lived,
Therefrom I am truly a weltered child deprived.
Onto the rough cobble stones bloodied and quite torn,
That tragic wind, caught in hells uproar forlorn.
A sea of red, kept in an eternal twinge,
Through to agonies I'd impinge.
Ah how they weep, the mystic fools they weep,
In fake smiles these too rustle forth and reap.
Though I'm stirred I cannot follow,
O'er endless toil I as wallow.
Unto violent passions, soaring in tempting extremes,
Of pastures buried, a life in poor redeems.
For nothing concerted I came thereafter seeking,
Every question asked it begged a haggard beseeching.
Thus in a dim labyrinth of lies I found some solace,
Here in the direst valley of despair it's my disgrace.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 7:25 PM UTC
as an earthworm touched
by a twig, a string curling
wildly to refuse the knot.
raw and sensate, dotted
with bits of soil like ellipses
of motion.
the same light's kept on in
the darkened ends of its
tunnel.
as your own.
a pulse in the earth, enriched
by a blackness that contains
immovability.
to surface therefrom, putting
the best of nakedness to shame--
streaming the gravity of
enlightening experiences.
turned continually over, as
if to freefall to the sky.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
„...my men in moleskin caps and generally envested in the kind of shabby paramilitary fashion in which one pictures the advance guard at Teruel. Upon proceeding inland, we encountered teams of what I declared native-cannibal-warriors, who, despite being outwardly quite docile, were clearly displeased with the unannounced invasion of their little isle. I began pointing my finger at the savages and emitting ‘pow’ noises, causing the natives to rather cooperatively collapse to the ground by heaps. Having cleared the beachhead, I then realised my love for our apparent guide to this strange paradise, an ermine-like species without any name that comes to memory. I held her close for perhaps five minutes, stroking her luscious, snow-white pelt and ignoring the jealous glances of my subordinates. An anxious look told me she had something to tell me. I bent my ear close, only to receive a sudden impact of her delicate, immaculately carven jaw. Shocked, I relinquished my hold, and she immediately bounded to a low-lying tree behind me, pawing the fruit dangling therefrom with a feline relish“
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 8:32 PM UTC
BIRTH OF SORROW
1995
From my life
I gave in
Surrendering to
A sudden
Realisation
Of such
Serious Sorrow
That so wrecked
My once
Secure life
And therefrom
I did
Suffer.
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 6:47 AM UTC
an unmade bed
captures an out of body
experience.
the marbled habit of
Bernini's: The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa of Avila.
whether in a lover's arms, ones own arms--
are the arms of sleep...held by the only Lover.
pillow case, bed sheet and blanket...
crease an inescapable faith--where you
for all the world, and all the world for you...
disappear.
faster than peopled dreams, losing their mark
and place...off they-you go in dreamlessness.
therefrom to rise at your fixed height, warm in
the cold light of day--looking down at an unmade
bed.
parallel and perpendicular rungs stripped
clean with a stretch.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Dream a dream in leather-bound
Sheets as white as wedding gowns
Trace endless streets as riverrun
On alleys, veins back and down
Cigarette mornings, sun’s crown is passed
Onward! To destinations!
Calmly, into nothing goes on the last
And ever on so fast.
Steam does lift off the shadows cast
Off the blinding sky, perfect, pale-skin white
From my empty room Troy-maiden appeared
Verse tattooed on belly white, limbs so lithe.
Ere long, the throbbing thing, the pen
Passed and rent the soul to send
My crafted love in the sallow morn
The devils therefrom that are born
Knows not best torture me
With outright attacks and battery
But that time and brooding are
Whips and chains—evoke his dignity
All it took to collapse his frame.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
And the God of gods seperated a Spirit from Himself and created in it beauty.
He gave to it the lightness of the breeze at dawn an the fragrance of the flowers of the field and the softness of moonlight.
Then He gave to it a cup of joy, saying:
"You shall drink and of it except that you forget the Past and heed not the Future."
And He gave to it a cup of sadness, saying: "You shall drink and know therefrom the meaning of life's rejoicing."
Then He put therein a Love that would foresake it with the first sigh of satisfaction; and Sweetness that would go out therefrom with the first word uttered.
And He caused to descend upon it knowledge fron the heaven's to guide it in the way of Truth.
And plantedin its depths Sight, that it might see the unseen.
Therein He created Feeling to flow with images and phantom forms;
And clothed it with a garment of Yearning woven by angels from rainbow strands.
In it He did put the darkness of Confusion, which is Light's image.
And the God took fire from Wrath's furnace, and a Wind from the deseert of Ignorance, and Sand from the saeashore of Selfishness, and Earth from beneath the feet of the ages, and He created man.
He gave to him unseeing Force to rise up in fury with madness and subside before lust.
And God of gods smiled and wept and knew a Love boundless and without limit, and He mated Man with his Spirit.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
With baffling reticence these limbs pour--
were they the scream of their creation...
space would about-face.
A clarion call issued them as stars to
constellate a soul.
Secure a God's temperament--and of the
mind given them, what to derive therefrom?
Their wound is not wide from their reticence,
the presentiment of their journey is a steady
creeping...the inching forth of termless conscription.
As pastoral confines bled out the lamb by the
Hand of necessity, these limbs have so
gathered to impart their sacrifice.
A single push of an unfathomable nature sees
them thus and thus.
What center they contrive's amiss...one
cannot take hold the Agony and Ecstasy
handed by One so great.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
A joyless tale
Turn into appearance
To this vitality...
That lipped to mouth the letters
"Wait.... we'll come across once more"
The era's peel of the skin...
Till it turn into a ossein
By season to season...
Therefrom... nevermore reunited
Hence, one relinquish life...
Not allowing us to embrace once more...
That joyless tale
This poet mouth's that letter's.... one by one....
Is mine.... joyless tale
That came into vitality....
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 11:56 PM UTC
There is something, a more perfect flame
Born of the cold of its self-destructive Same
As all fire in every iteration.
Why does it consume, a being therefrom
Ash, budding in envy and infantile,
Itself? Where shall it return? Tragedies
In waves and yet I’m so affixed
To those weeping, weeping lost
Amidst themselves, wanting completeness
Or one leaf to survive them
Through the Spring. Here, amidst
The tragedies, red-eyed, disheveled
And hoping for rebirth.
I will stand here, bury it in earth.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
a void can be felt akin to
a spherical ice sculpture,
suspended by space--but
where space cannot follow.
its surface teems with fly-like
suns, where apathy melts and
falls into blackened mouths.
that utter far more torturous
things than thirst, one being:
goodnight...with no relief.
an end as sight, seeing therefrom.
Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 1:51 PM UTC
The pursuit is in vain
the journey a fantasy
to my inner sanctum I should return
where resides the true me-
everywhere is the clamour
' this is the true philosophy
do not walk in error
this will set you free'
the public well is poisonous
drinking therefrom leads to malady
give me the pure rain-water
it will keep me healthy--
alone in the deepest silence of night
untainted by the voice of rude humanity
with the moon and stars as company
I am content and blessed in my serenity.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 4:40 PM UTC
You came into my world and ignited my thunder.
You are the salt that sweetens my day and the moon that brightens my night.
The fire you ignited burns like a candle and the glow therefrom shakes the rubble in my heart.
Call me by my name and let me unleash the catalogue of emotions I have consecrated for you over the years.
I might not be your first everything, but please let me be your last everything waxing strong in love till fade.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 1:25 PM UTC
Bewaji "Omo Jogunomi"
"Omo Odua, Omoluabi"
Your simplicity intrigues me
Your six "Shuku" braids
Adorned with petals of royalty
Fit for a royalty like you
Represents all Oodua enclaves
In a fortnight, I shall bring you gifts
From the evil forests no man dares
Therefrom, I shall bring you "Ori Kiniun"
In your name shall I conquer territories
And name them after "Eni bi Okan mi yan"
I am the "Ogboju Ode Inu Irumole"
The only man fit for a goddess like you
Bewaji oh!
I shall call forth fire upon your foes
Even without a degree in water engineering
I will I pave a way from the stream to your house
Build you a fortress as high as Jericho
Because you Bewaji are my treasure
"Eledumare''s" greatest mortal creation
Don't cry for me if I die in this cause
You can put it on love so deep, so true
I strongly desire and adore you my "Bewaji"
My World who wakes up with beauty
Give me a shot from your *******
And my life will not remain the same ever again
Now, tell me, who is your "Bewaji?"
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 7:07 AM UTC