I listened to the year of songs
Wondered on what to sing
A song of choice and preference
From Africa of my childhood
I stopped to laugh at the sound
My baritone booming big
In dialect songs of stories
Of folk lore and moonlight tales

It is now a year of poems
I have a handful inscription
But none of them has got a rhyme
To decipher my native ways
Of African thoughts to English
Like the struggle of the hopeless
A malfunction reflects the dearth
This terra firma bereft of text

Teacher and schoolgirl ran away
out of the playground he wanted to play
for a long time she was groomed
in his presence, she bloomed

Teachers pet, lots of treats
extra stars and tasty sweets
he boosted her self-esteem
believing she shared his dream

He forgot about his loving wife
thought they would build a new life
he took her away to a hotel
thoughts of their activities, I quell

KEEPER OF THE FLAME

I am the setting sun
bleeding crimson-red
Into blue horizon.

I am the moon riding
In a midnight sky
shrouded yellow pale.

I am the Keeper of the Flame
with a prophet’s name *
and when I forever fall
I will have kept it written all.

*Jeremiah= Geremia

Trudging through cold winter rain
shoulders hunched against the chill
all the trees now bare and plain.
How long 'till they don leaves again?
Easy to think they never will.

For year and I have both grown old
my long trek soon will reach its end
like a ribbon near unrolled.
This old poet can't pretend
that much of my story's untold.

You must forget me

As to do otherwise
is to tear wrench torture
what's left
of me

I'm left on promenades
walking in straight lines
but not reaching
my destination
jutting out in rough seas

I float a firm footing
over boiling cauldrons
but we all know
the soup is now
spoiled

I can bear all
if you are erased
bleached
whitened
out

Remember to forget me
Who
are
You?

On those cloudy early evenings of
winter months is conjured up a certain chill,
even in the steam of this tropic place.
Unlocked are stored up memories
of other winters long forgotten.

There the sounds of evening traffic and the city’s
passing life are muffled deep within a wintery baffle.
This quite broken only by the occasional and
repetitious clunk of a carelessly fastened snow chain,
against the undercarriage of a home bound car.

I

Floudering in many Plaices,
flat like Ray fish 
that Skate across the sand, 
as odd Cods glower at gaping mouthed
Sticklebacks in the backwaters,
Haddocks in the paddocks of Sea Horses, 
Anemones with friends and few enemies,
Kippers, kipping to themselves
under Mackerel skies.

She’s a man-pleasing dresser
Women’s envy does not stress her

Short and tight for her is right
Women’s lips purse tight

She’s got a bust
Show it she must
Wants a man’s lust

She smirks with delight
At every wife’s plight
When her husband can’t
get her out of his sight
Try as he might

She’s here to please
She’s every man’s squeeze
Touch her, if you want to please

Married, single, give it a try
For her all men apply

She’s a tart with a heart
from your money you need not part

Close your eyes.
Let me lead you by the beach,
As the wind takes your hair
Along the velvet skyline.
Let me lead you by the beach,
As the wind takes your hair
Along the velvet skyline.
The sun visable..
Thought a minor figure
Compared to your beauty.
Your very essence appeals to those in doubt,
And misleads the portrait of itself
To see you smile, priceless
As even my vision isnt perfect
I can see you 20/20
Your my hearts rival,
And in that can do no harm
Thought a minor figure