"tumults" poems
Lick the words
from my lips
let them slide down
your throat
like fruited jewels,
dark, hard candies
that melt into cream
a healing liquid
oozing into my
ventricles,
pumping milky beats
out through
your cells
permeating the deep
of my wild
My syllables will
wrap themselves
around your syntax
frothy hybrids
of buttered silk
and irony
heart-to-heart
conversations that
flow into the ether,
as heaven's night
endlessly begins
We twirl our tongues
into guttural utterings,
lustful verse
that glides from
slick-fervored ice
to an outpour
of lava
We feed each other
dreams
our saliva like honey
dripping with dawn's
tender glow
as we open up
like baby birds,
begging to be nourished
at all costs
Here,
in this lingual forest
Your breath finds a home
on my tastebuds,
my tongue
in your
cheek
In between the tumults
of our
exploding oceans
This
is how we
love
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Nigeria our great and beloved motherland,
where multitudes of tribes unitedly stand.
Our land of hope by two rivers divided,
with lush vegetation by nature provided.
Nigeria our home of people resilient.
A land of great icons in works diligent.
We hail thee our great and revered black nation,
our land of human dignity and redemption.
God arise and take your place as sovereign Lord.
Enthrone Thyself in Nigeria's seat of power.
Make her edicts and laws Thy eternal word.
Let justice prevail in her courts by the hour.
Our flag will peace and industry symbolize,
whilst our history will always immortalize
the deeds and sacrifices of our heroes past.
Help us Lord to serve our beloved land with zest.
Nigeria the blessed will pervasive peace know,
even when the threats of tumults seem to flow.
Her crops and yields will neighbouring countries nourish,
from her fields that inexhaustibly flourish.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC
Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised,
With idiot moons and stars retracting stars?
Creep thou between—thy coming’s all unnoised.
Heaven hath her high, as Earth her baser, wars.
Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fray
(By Adam’s, fathers’, own, sin bound alway);
Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say
Which planet mends thy threadbare fate, or mars.
2.8k
When I share two or three days of the week to compose poetry I find myself on the
exam session when severe merciless teachers ask us to write about “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard!”
Elegies mostly are unprepared and never find time to turn to the appropriate types!
They ask me on and on...and I ask them in the consulting area that how can we turn my blossomy song to elegies unwritten about the parish of those people, long time ago had been lost exactly on the exam time?
How could you expect me to turn my naïve feeling to one of the catastrophic ones?
>
<
>
time is over
time is up
time is running
time flies
>
<
>
Teachers shout, “ HURRY UP” when will they shut up?
I usually haunt by the bundle of words and circled with tumults of ideas as shining and variable as stars that like the savage river rush out to make me drowned. Very rarely I could find a way to breathe out. Elegies swirling randomly again and again to pose the question about whom shall we very soon defined, Mum?
>...O darlings...<
…motionless corpse, wandering ghost, dead people around,
>.. not stars..<
>...O… no..<
Is there anybody nowadays to think about the “Country Churchyard” and elegies very appropriate to them at all, what a destiny! what a force! while a long time ago they were bestowed to the grand history of all mankind.
O…no…
Poor elegies remain unborn and sad in my thought…not forever…
they laugh…and laugh…I can hear them, time is over and I’m a failure.
<
<
<
The blank sheet is going to be filled by songs wearing the long red robe of emotional loves or lust…they are tired of black mourning cloth of demise!
they laugh
and
laugh and
laugh
since
>
<
I 'm a murderer…tapping with dirk ….or strangling with a heavy rope of my heart….bloodshed everywhere: drops from my fingers to the height. shout, scream and cry, they were innocent, don' t want to die. I can hear them.
>
<
They are killed not to stay further in a cemetery of churchyard but to be born with a new style, either failure or corrupt…
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:42 AM UTC
Agape unconditional love
leaves world's mouth
agape (wide open).
Love unreservedly
and lavishly with
unrestricted abandon.
Forgive everything
and be free.
Contentment comes
from within the
heart of the freed,
and a soul that
is truly beautiful,
happy and full of grace
with joyful tenderness.
Without striving but
thriving in prosperity,
full of light
and the living ions.
Powered by the
force of the spirit.
Even though surrounded
by numerous tumults,
immense profound peace
engulfed such a one.
The unforgettable and
unusual unspeakable elixir
of life is unleashed
to comfort him.
Delightful with
a grateful heart,
pleasant and pleasing,
so easy to placate.
A comforter full
of wisdom and knowledge.
Versatile and eclectic nature
is abundantly lavished on him.
His presence heals.
Not judgemental but
full of unimaginable
tenderness and understanding.
Such is the way of love.
Agape love.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
Give me a smile, that I may build on your assurance,
Kiss me, that I may have to thy kind heart entrance,
Love me less, and see how tumultuous life could be,
Give thy command, and see my loyalty to thee.
In thine absence, mine heart cannot from thee depart;
A moment's departure would rend my world apart.
I recall that very day I beheld thy face;
A lasting memory I will forever retrace.
That Sunday when thine eyes did my emotions disarm;
The day mine heart responded to thy Love's alarm,
The day you sat upon mine heart's epicentre,
To govern my feelings from their very centre.
Josephine my love, I bequeath my self-will to thee,
Let me thy world share, and make thine own tumults mine,
And come in to my own world, for all I have is thine.
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 4:56 PM UTC
5/29/20
He had a disconcerting posture, one that
makes people feel uneasy about themselves.
And the days seemed to roll over— obedience to the
incessant pounding of violence and tumults.
Makes the people feel uneasy about themselves
when they lie down instead of uproar. When silence is
the incessant pounding of violence and tumults.
When the hush of a mouth becomes asphyxiation.
When they lie down instead of uproar. When silence
becomes weapons. Days roll over— obedience to the
hush of a mouth— becoming asphyxiation. When the word “breathe” becomes the last one.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 11:28 AM UTC
A few titles
A few songs
A few artists
Combine
for compound fractures
of my consciousness
For, lo, the ulcer just by nourishing
Grows to more life with deep inveteracy,
And day by day the fury swells aflame,
And the woe waxes heavier day by day—
Unless thou dost destroy even by new blows
The former wounds of love, and curest them
While yet they're fresh, by wandering freely round
After the freely-wandering Venus, or
Canst lead elsewhere the tumults of thy mind.
Yes, a swollen skin
fragmented bone
I walk
and flee her capture.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
A lone gray bird,
Dim-dipping, far-flying,
Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
Of night and the sea
And the stars and storms.
Out over the darkness it wavers and hovers,
Out into the gloom it swings and batters,
Out into the wind and the rain and the vast,
Out into the pit of a great black world,
Where fogs are at battle, sky-driven, sea-blown,
Love of mist and rapture of flight,
Glories of chance and hazards of death
On its eager and palpitant wings.
Out into the deep of the great dark world,
Beyond the long borders where foam and drift
Of the sundering waves are lost and gone
On the tides that plunge and rear and crumble.
1.4k
"home"
...
you could say it, sway to it, pray for it,
shake it away, it could take it.
if you stay, though, you might never embrace it.
It's the cold and the crash that strike
holes in the soles of your feet as you bash
and enfold into lichens and teeth,
and the places you breathe,
and you stop for relief
and the places, the places...
you were hanging on branches, raining long faces
singing sad praises of things that you wasted
and wish that you stayed for and felt some remorse for
and took to the graces encased in the
graves you've returned for,
days that you've paid for,
ways to pass pain over
tumults of things that you changed for
and all along, whistling a song,
wistfully thinking of a place to belong
sighing and singing of places to roam
you find yourself in this space you've been shaping
and realize you're home.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 1:56 PM UTC
Wind - well, a whisp whipping
Weak and wet wights
Woefully waiting and wishing
Weeping while we are without
When will we welcome wafts,
Whispering whisks wilting over,
Wrapping the sweltering
Trapped! Tricked to take
Time's tedious torture
Telling turbulent tumults
To tarry, tolerating terrible
Ticks trained to trip towards
Typed twos and twelves
Too tardy am I to take
Thought to tend to time's
Temporary turnabouts
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 4:38 PM UTC
Fall
U
1 somnambulant princess
from
heaven dearly
creaking
hushed
tumults
U
leaking flashes
in Paris
U have a wry lipless smile
struck leaning
against a church playground
smothered
in you child dying
Ur a playful
hair seriously
sets the dirt on edge
and all trees
inU
are nudest
by bell ringing
in a church yard
leans the fair
mushy
uglywonderful
body of
U
Fall
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 3:17 PM UTC
Every slightest gasp of breath
that clears my shoulders of their weight
belongs between the slightest space
that grip the letters of your name
and all the running, shouting sounds
of children playing in the street
the sanctuary where they bound
bears a shadow of your frame
You’re thick inside relief, my dear,
the air hangs flat- its languidness
in awe of piercing shafts of light
which knife them at their brightest core
your coursing spate of energy
tumults the dust, reshapes the room
encapsulates the shredded mass
and leaves the fragments pleading more
As I have pranced this newborn space
and shed my skins of weariness
I’ve ascertained a whimsy fact
that I have found forever true:
I cannot cut the air, my dear
without delightful consequence
of lacerating you
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
I still stand here,
though terrified of falling.
slight breezes amplify,
becoming gusts to the mind;
slight sways to tumults,
upsets threatening demise.
remembering advice
of sage and wise -
never look down
when perched up so high.
pretenders will lie,
saying heart beats speed,
pounding in ear, but fear
homes in there.
it slows, knows
every pulse, a potential push
like butterfly tempest
to certain death
waiting below.
fingers freeze, unable to let go
anything steady
'till eyes fix to blue sky above.
precarious positions
feel a lot like love.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 9:04 PM UTC
Eyelashes can be so crushing,
The way I look at yours and
feel them brush against my cheek
remember tears dripping off of them,
rushing off of them,
in tumults and falling to the floor
where they pooled with mine.
The way they draw me in
framing perfect beautiful soul eyes
and pull my heart strings,
and CUT my heart strings!
when I think of being gone away
with a mirror and a face you just introduced me to...
Uncertainty, unfortunately,
only gets stranger with familiarity
up to a point, where I hope it might
collapse and combine with our tears,
another color in our painting.
Eyelashes don't mean anything
except that I can't imagine
not seeing yours, and I'm scared.
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 5:11 PM UTC
Handed down through the ages,
Humanity in hearts and reverance for the sages.
This place is more like a heaven on Earth,
Myriad of religions are taken here birth.
Our emperors were too kind to invade any country,
Million of channels telecast it's documentary.
Jai Hind and Satyamev Jayte resides in our heart,
Our sand handles both a motor and a cart.
The holy Ganga flows from the bottom of Himalayas,
So is worshipped for being called a gift like Matthias.
The Himalayan is fit like a crown on our mother's head,
Climatic variations and monsoon rainfall are so evenly spread.
World's economy has an immense eminence of zero,
Invented by Aryabhatta; Ramanujan- the Maths hero.
Bhagat Singh, Laxmi Bai had been an epitome of strength,
Education is vastly spread and immeasurable in length.
Variety of raiment is seen in every state,
Twenty two languages and each with a feel of sedate.
Vendors working daily amidst tumults on roads,
Poetry scribbled by poet as their respectful odes.
Colours of rainbow is reflected here well,
Luscious cuisines grabs heed by the smell.
Geeta, Qur'an, Adi Granth and Bible,
At different hours, they worship their idols.
Vaisakhi, Christmas, Holi and Eid
we stand together as a pillar in every need.
Writings are not only read in books,
But scripted on walls, painting on hooks.
Folk arts, tribal arts, feet beating on rhythm,
Dance forms are many, depicting their vision.
Here, women are treated equal to men,
Delhi and Mumbai got their place in the list of wen.
We treat our guests as the heavenly God,
One can visit here either by plane or brod.
Weddings are held by following every ritual,
Our ways may differ but our hearts are mutual.
With so much of glory do not mistake it as Neverland,
As this Golden bird does not fly but stays on land.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 10:51 AM UTC
Its for the redemption of Man that I tarry still On this mortal plane.
Its because The lord has filled my mouth that I still Speak his words and sing his songs.
Songs of Love and Faith.
Songs of atonement and redemption.
Songs of hope and cheer
for his next coming!
Oh How Joyous the occasion will be! as I stand in judgement, Before my lord.
My face is smudged with the dirt of Righteous service.
My hands, are cracked and tired from Long days of hard work.
My body aches
and
My clothes are torn.
beside me are snakes in suits, with fancy words and tumults aimed at the purpose of weaseling their own way to Salvation.
But not me.
I offer the lord my best, my worst. My all.
I offer up my mortal service, and my Missionary experiences.
I offer up my pocket-full of Souls I've touched, and wait for judgement.
I can see the worry in the serpents eyes, the doubt and fear.
they're dressed perfectly, their hair is perfectly greased back
and their disposition is fancy to say the least.
Oh, ye fools who look heavenly for most part, but have no trace of it in their hearts, for Life is not about the love you appear to show, or the lives you appear to bless.
Life is about giving everybody and everything
YOUR ALL.
ALL your Love and all your Glory.
And such is the Kingdom of God.
Made up of Men like me who are meek and humble. made up of the weary, and the lowly in heart. Real men who did Real work.
Men who served
Lovingly, Faithfully.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
Rigid, unlike, softly, more like, she's coming a rough god riding the stocks of
bobbing withers robed in music. she's quick static spark sore tips of fingers
just meeting with my tips of fingers just with grooves barely braying over
one or the others me we sweetly are tumults of sparks raking ***** nails
over backs pinions extend fully kissing free air and up into shaking
clouds her minute jiggling abdomen i'm home there in between the beads
of startling clarity and rush of sudden acute blissful angles (more like
delightful swirling clutter, her hips are like) turning back and forward
back and forward writhing sails of pleasure billowed skin her
ultimate final tongue that staggers magnificently like a doe in the striped
coat of furious tigers she has fanged jaws gently stabbing young
blades my neck (a short column of stuttering electrons flickering
against her blazing article of so unpure purely purring muscles
slick and sinuously bound limbs an angelic fist's arm on my
teeth suddenly flush with blood.
she is many
she is one
she is a multitude
she is a slight twist
to the hairs on the
the back neck (of my) . A
neck meekly
scratched with
nails abruptly
slaughtering quiet
disheveled minutes
in her merry cavern
wails
May 29, 2011
May 29, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
There is a beauty in my life like air--
that is she follows me and fills me up,
and when my lungs in joyous mirth erupt,
it is by her my song is even there.
And should the gathered throngs around me stare,
or try to cease my song or interrupt
the rhythms of my heart, and so corrupt
the flowing of my verses, then beware.
The tumults of a love perceived too soft
may soon upset the sails of those too near;
these very winds hold eagles' wings aloft,
cause waves to break, and on a lesser tone
may carry whispers, tho it be a mere
few inches, saying "you are not alone."
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 1:32 AM UTC
I strove for success
Did it with civility 'coz I had no haste
She called me Dr 'coz I knew how to handle her anatomy
But now she doubting me
Heard all the tumults that followed with insults
But our love was ordained by the Gods you could hear our orisons
Now who's being indolent
Got the nerve to tell me about our denouement
When I found you, you were banal
Scavenging for Mr Right
So I gave you the keys to my heart
So how could you expect me to surmise that this would be my demise?
Thought you had the occult mind
Able to resist the mockery
So I guess this was all gnarly
But now I heave to the next one
With a lesson learnt.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
They said: "She dwelleth in some place apart,
Immortal Truth, within whose eyes
Who looks may find the secret of the skies
And healing for life's smart."
I sought Her in loud caverns underground--
On heights where lightnings flashed and fell;
I scaled high Heaven; I stormed the gates of Hell,
But Her I never found.
Till thro' the tumults of my Quest I caught
A whisper: "Here, within thy heart,
I dwell; for I am thou: behold thou art
The Seeker---and the Sought."
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Great spirit drawing . . .
Eagles fly under mountain,
. . . Earthlings in tumults.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
Just like you can tell how old a tree is
By counting the rings on its cut belly,
These older ladies' age can be guessed
By the number of grey hairs
Bearded on the muzzle
Of the dogs they walk.
Loyal companions, on they stroll
Past tides and tumults
Through thick and thin
Until, at last
The lead is hung up,
For that one final outing.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Your sharp tongue
moving behind your teeth,
I felt it roar and clamor
in tumults of confusion,
In a hullabaloo of
hurly-burly upheaval,
The wickedness is as
heavy on my shoulders;
As it is on yours,
Against my mouth
yours did beat and bicker,
This flickering bedside-lamp
of bedlam disarray,
Revenge is ice-cream
when you and I scream,
Too sweet and too sticky,
I feel full of sickness
and sorrow,
Don't we deserve
our just desserts
A little less
nauseating?
-Jamie F. Nugent
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
Unprecedented
unlike the storm which rages
or the volcano that shudders
before its release,
or the tsunami that warns
like the tornado which
tumults everything about
wild fire is unprecedented
a strike of a match
a careless fuse
an unwarranted gust of wind
spreads a wave so large
it consumes all,
and kills everything.
wild fire, I have inside.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC