a good poem .
keep it up.
read some better ones
YOUR PRINTS STAND BOLD
(A piece of Shakespeare)
1. Your prints stand bold in black tars of our pains,
That froths love’s rippled foams to heal our tears.
Love’s no ambition, but ambition feigns.
Love walks proud, cleansing our pains and chilled fears.
We shall sing praises to one with meek heart,
Sweet one that wipes our pains and tears apart.
2. The valleys of our lives gallop like horse
Upon the cruel rock course of envious ones.
With donkey’s wit they push on with dumb force,
That creates blind lines where idle passion runs.
The spoilers of our worth are dumb with raids
Yet stand they bold unsheathing their mean blades.
3. When with love’s dart we strike the ripples of
Their throats, calm eddies of full hope will rise,
To tame the ugly spectre of their bluff.
We shall begin to kill the envious flies
That perch unasked at our raw wounds and sores
Bland wicked pollens on weary spores.
4. Atose shall lead us with songs of joy,
His smiles, the bulbs of hope, are tales of light;
Sweet light of hope that blurts the night cruel ploy.
Who must descend like light with feathers bright?
Who must ascend like kite our pains to burst;
Our ills to cure, our aches and pains most curst?
5. Sapele stood forlorn with pains and doubts.
Doubt dug pains in gullies of our hearts,
Draining our hopes with fears and evil clouts.
We were lost slave at wicked fares and marts.
We’re serfs at mercy of stern feudal Lords:
At mercy of pot bellied Lord’s dour swords.
6. Sapele quaked, perturbed like snake-chased-rat.
Uncertainty rang brave upon her life.
Nor smart like dog, nor spright as bird - mere bat;
She sat at corners of pain, soaked with rife,
The people’s choice, full proven from above.
7. Injustice mountain tall did crouch upon
Our land, a sphinx-like being, of hideous fate,
Groomed fear like cobra charmers that beckon
Us with alarming dreams in fancy’s state.
Where can we go in time of full despair?
Who can we meet to our faint hope repair?
8. Sapele groped at borders of grim fear,
She sat beside the joy of life and time.
Caught by rude traps she groaned with pain like deer,
Entrapped with grime and cut off form her prime.
She wept the deflowered maid at Cupid’s snare:
She wept – the deflowered maid of public stare.
9. Grim pains stood tall at back bones of our souls.
Confined in poverty, we groaned in want.
Bare penury cuffed hard about our soles.
Like sober swine we wail with miteless grunt.
Our souls were nearing close the bitter world,
Where penury in python’s feat us curled.
10. We sat beside the springs with parch-like tongues,
Parched tight with burdens of our stony lives.
We crooned without restraints with bells and gongs.
Hard croons jig upon us like loathsome wives.
Upon the gruesome roads of poverty,
We sought the prince of fairest charity.
11. They cut your reputation with tongues’ sword!
Cruel wayward ones patter much your roof
Their angry words –weak rains upon the ford.
We were brute bulls – poor beasts with angry hoofs.
Poor nasty boors, we walk harsh troubles road,
While we carry like brutes, stern angers load.
12. Our lives were thirsty flowers in desert land.
Our joys were void: crushed orphans of slim fate,
In grip of foster mother’s most stern hand;
Engulfed by foster mother’s harsh estate.
Poor listless sheep, we steered our ears to hear
The words that’ll make our burdens wear.
13. The burdens of our lives were load of stone,
Rude rocks that ruck the garments of our hearts.
Blind night descends – ignorance as our loan,
Uttering cruel its words with witless darts.
Where comes the handsome angel of rich light,
Where comes the path that leads to beauty’s right?
14. Alone in midst of wealth we pined and cried,
We wept the passions that bathe us in slime:
In gutters broad, in cisterns deep and wide.
Heads stood in lines, enrobed in loathsome crime.
Hands idling time, were friends to groom and maid,
While feet dragged slow like flowers in petals fade.
15. Sapele was full bare of goody things.
Stark bare our songs at corners of fun time.
Stark bare our plays and acts in mirthless fling.
Nor dollar, rolled nor naira flowed; nor dime
Ran forth in our worn pockets to ease pain
Of ugly want in all their hideous reign.
16. Now hear the call of the applauding drum,
Of happy lutes in sync with festive tune!
Now drink the breeze of change like richest rum,
Sweet rum of hope, the creed of ancient rune.
Today we stand on relics of our loath
Smashing with zest their crudest, ruthless growth.
17. Sapele breathes the air of happy change.
Her gullied streets are sewn with marks of dawn
Sweet marks of morn from hills and lowly range –
Fine hues of morn from earth and pricest lawn.
Soft music rings, the nightmare of souls,
Prime darling of ears that calms pain of soles.
18. Sapele sighs with joy at choicest fruit -
Devouring much the sun’s full rays with zest,
Extending same to joyful lane and route.
Corrupt not now the fruit of heaven’s best.
In pains cruel shadows we were friends to none,
Now Atose smiles bold; our pains are gone.
19. The route to the path of sweet joy are paved
With wondrous light – the route of ample joy.
So many were then called, but few are saved
Still fewer the port of grimmest Devils ploy.
The choicest tree fills our full roofs with bread
With mirth and light – some green, yellow, some red.
20. Our youths are blessed by works of their hands.
Our maids no more roam in search of con men.
Our aged ones deride the boastful brands
Of pompous sheathes approved by hellish ken.
We jolly now like king with happy crown.
Joy reigns in our sweet heart blotting our frown.
21. before the throne of mightiest of great lords,
I heard the dreadful curse of filth and grime:
May fiery age prick you with its grim swords,
If your sweet town live not in peaceful clime,
May dread degrade your face in its full spate
Till you will make Nigeria our proud state.
(Olomu A. O. O.)
Chapter Six
BLOOMING LEADER
(Song for a real son of the land)
1. Bloom well in youth, lest bent age you deflower.
The petals born of youth groom like strong tower
Upon the flow’ry beds of our plum life,
Bloom rich: a silv’ry song bred of rich fife.
A new born day crows bold from panes of east;
A new born life fills hearts with dainty feast.
The flow’ry songs of noon blooms with sweet zest,
Displaying love with all the petals blest.
Like fair moon songs in a most happy night,
Atose’s colours beam with feathers bright.
2. Like a lorn mask that overstayed the shrine,
Like an art work full stale that lost its shine;
Like rare noon-moon that over used its lease,
Like day-caught-owl that cants its hoofs unease;
Like morning Hespers of long forgot age,
Our hungry minds searched for the hid sage
Like builders’ bricks in search of safest coigns,
Like full-blown pics limned bold in choicest coins
Like scalds of old that chant the songs of yore,
We sought Atose to cure our grim sore.
3. We sought the bard to bail us from this bale,
The bard, to cure our lobes from aching pale.
Sore songs were music to our doleful hearts;
The sorry tunes that sold us at poor marts.
Like fops caged in strange garbs we cursed the day
Our clothes betray our beings like common prey.
Sad grumpus of lost age, we breathe red fumes,
Hot enough to crush feathers and rich plumes.
Our fuming plumes were rays from house of Death,
Grim Angel cruel that cuts all things of breath.
4. Before this time we basked at gate of wealth,
Sweet jovial lizards, prinked in glorious health.
Our poems rise, silent music of lorn soul,
That sang the dirge that rang from pole to pole.
Our poems rise, joyous dinnings of great minds,
That rope the hearts of greedy ones in blinds.
Our poems rise, musings of prime fairest wit,
Where wisdom great and sweetest songs do sit.
Our poem rise, mellic songs of fullest hope,
That bind capricious minds with angry rope.
5. Remember now, the days slept with time -
The memories of sweetest youth – your prime.
We recollect the times cocooned in grace,
When sun of dawn did breathe your promised face.
St Patrick’s joyed like lilies of bloomed May:
You learnt, you prayed; you grew by night and day.
Elume Grammar school came with noon-crown,
A jovial school removed from baneful frown.
Sweet butterfly at verge of richest spray,
Unmoved by scorpions that attempt to prey.
6. Mere rustlers in game search; we combed the edge
Of towns, we touched the souls of verdant sedge;
We searched the pricest wisdom tales of old,
Of tales unsoiled, from olden mouths foretold.
But truth like gold slipped by in grim passage.
The silv’ry hair of truth rings this message:
“Slow lazy pride is the Herculean glitch
We must uproot like weed to be true rich”.
The echoes of St Patrick’s, large like life,
Cure our inmost stale hope from bloody strife.
7. You journeyed much like zealous champ to win;
You paved the path of Death where sinners grin.
At last the summit smiles with rays of joy,
Rare rays that all over inmost fears destroy.
The gloamy sun of baleful wasted time,
Gives way to greener life of youthful prime.
I wish you were night-skies with myriad eyes
To scan your works blest full in jumbo size
I wish you were the Saint with watchful ears,
You will save lobes from fear and baneful jeers.
8. The fireflies of the streets are wrought by you -
North, south; east, west – they fill over hungry view.
Our soles trail softly paths untouched by tar
Our feet sing bold, unstained by olden scar.
The scars pf souls were mud of olden clime,
Moist, muddy mounts we groaned to scale and climb.
Eftsoons, the voice of man speak bold with fire;
You climbed, a saint with passions’ full desire.
The fireflies of the street ring bold like gold,
Like gold of day that sings with passions bold.
9. Like glacier floe we swam your precious path,
Plum path of choicest love, unsouzed with wrath.
Base stars of fallen age scarce you with tar,
A million stars will not the moon give scar.
Foul stars sang dins to swink the slinky moon
The fairest moon ignored their dinning croon.
Sweet heavens, sullied with fumes of rich dawn,
Bless us full with joys from verdant lawn.
Today, we move to end our piteous need,
Like birds to roost, we claim our rightful meed.
10. Now we come to the end of our rich songs,
We come to the end of the song of gong.
Like drowning sun that prowed its welkin west,
We drown our fears and seek the path of rest.
To the extreme of our rich tunes come we,
With Popish pride to tame our happy see.
We rued the day we toed the lane of lies.
We curse the days of ooze and hideous flies.
We come to the verge of our soulful tunes,
The jolly path of Godwin’s gladsome runes.
(Olomu A.O.O)
Chapter Seven
JUSTICE DAUGHTER OF FAIR TIME
(Sapele In A New Robe)
(To the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”,
“Rock of ages cleft for me” or “Do your Best and Leave the
Rest”).
1. Justice, daughter of fair time,
Forthing you as peaceful dove;
Bringing you in joyous clime,
Time, most blest, from God above.
Joy in fate, your time has come;
Bid we you in sweet welcome.
2. Godwin, goodly son of day,
Bold as day, as morning bright;
’Tose’s son of forward sway;
Sway of light apart from night.
Bid we you with trumpet call,
Call of love of no grim fall.
3. Gnomic texts are hard to make!
Glassy eyes are hard to read!
Furl me up as pole-like rake,
Grudge of old in spiteful lead!
Crocus buds of ancient lore,
Cleans pure heart from guilt of yore.
4. Wox me strong in ruthless love!
Purl me now with streams of joy –
Deltan streams – in happy cove
Prow our ships with careful ploy.
Breed rare love in fairest hearts,
As your ship from crime departs.
5. Save us now from hateful teen,
Groomed in hearts of lowly boors;
Reared full curst with ugly sheen,
Like rot petals in fair flowers.
Prow us now to land of gold,
Joyous land of dainty old.
6. Keel the yacht to joyous clime;
Happy times are come with you,
Graceful times, removed from crime;
Justice rings in moral view.
Come bless us as love would do,
Bless us full with pigeon’s coo!
7. Pique me with songs of glad land,
Land removed from hateful spite;
Land unmoved by treach’ry grand,
Far removed from evil sprite
Come to us with fervent song,
Joyful songs, with happy gong.
8. Cobra’s ire is hard to tame,
Soakt in fumes of angry hood.
You are sure to know the game,
Calming ire of crime and rude.
Lo, we se your calming face.
Radiant bright like satin lace.
9. Flower in buds of gentle air
Bouncing fresh with piquant zeal,
Fruiting seeds in regal fare,
Like sweet petals in her feel.
Come, oh come, our sagely friend –
Friend of love – without the Fiend
10. Justice daughter of prime time;
Comes in rushing gusts of grace,
In sweet airs of times most prime;
Like pure silver in your face.
Now is time to leap for hope,
Radiant hope of jolly scope.
11. Do your best and leave rest,
Men speak thrash of princely sons.
Lies in pack of witless best,
Brave in mouths of evil scions.
Come lead us with knowledge blest,
Do your best and leave the rest.
AN IDEA-RUSH
1. An idea-rush comes raining down,
Full drowning us with liquid crown,
Slow wetting us with new-found-truth
Like blooming roses in their youth.
An idea-rush, comes blessing us,
In worldly rounds without a loss;
In earthen walls of mighty frame,
In heaven’s joy of priest-like name.
An idea rush from jolly heads,
Keeps pouring love on rosy beds.
2. Atose’s head with no compare
Came breeding fruits like fruitful pear.
All things pure just are firmly placed
As olden songs with lyrics laced.
When sweetest rains are done and full,
We swim like king in lux’ry pool;
To pools of yore with knowledge blest,
Like myriad shinning stars at best.
Pour down the rains of heaven’s love,
With rays of truth with God’s approve.
3. The tale of donkey’s lorn shadow,
Writ loud upon our lean sorrow;
When we dare walk the path of tears,
Lane lonely lane with million jeers.
In days of yore, not far removed,
We cried with baby’s honest zeal
And cut our weal with bloody deal.
In forgot days we sought your face,
For all knew was lonely place.
4. A place accurst removed from truth,
Like stony hearts without some ruth.
From assess to swift horses move;
Soar high to success sweet above.
Climb pallid strings to verdant rains,
To kingly thrones with sapient reigns.
Move far apart from angry lands,
And live like king in diamond sands.
Live far above accurst rude seas
And live in greens where pains decrease.
5. Your idea-rush did fill us so,
Like winds of love with gentle blow.
We see transformers dance with glee
And fireflies in sweet gentle lee.
We know you well in talks of peace,
That lace our necks with comely fleece.
When stony heads came in sad time,
You took your time to tame their crime
When thirst grew strong in parchy throats,
You poured your eau like some sweet oats,
6. An idea-rush comes blessing lives,
Full soaking us with joyous jives,
When day heralds a new born fate,
In groomed Atose’s faithful state.
Untouched by claws of forgot Fiend,
He walks with love – a zestful friend.
We read his print in golden tar,
Without the stains of worldly scar.
Your idea rush comes reigning down,
Full prinking me with witty gown
(Olomu A. O.O)
(Sundry songs)
HUMBLE ATOSE
The humble spirit is a
Treasure house of homely truth,
Destroying the ghost of fear.
The humble heart is
A measure of comely ruth,
Uprooting the weirs of doom.
The humble souls is
a flower rare of bonny youth,
Filling souls with merry rum.
The humble mind is
A Kingly throne of happy see
Preaching love in Bishop’s robe.
Atose’s visage is the
Rosy deeds of radiant love
Singing us with humble deeds
(Olomu A.O.O)
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