Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love love poems

Let me By Elizabeth Amarachukwu Okafor

Let me lead you this way
I found thorns with honey just for you
Wishes I stroll you farther, for the intense of my instinct is all warming

While along, I was going to tell you,
But every passing sunrise, my words are rolled back to breathing you

My fume is reluctant, craving you as
oil
Just this path, Just this way
I’ll unravel my thoughts.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems Poetry

Three Colours of Love by Njabulo N

Good evening. Today I will share with you THREE COLOURS OF L♡VE poem.

In one’s lifetime one may experience only three kinds of love:

1. You love at a young age and let everything go down the drain because of stupid things
2. You fall in love and along the journey you get hurt, lied to and damaged
3. You fall in love without noticing, and you end up rising in it because of your joy and happiness

I hope you will enjoy reading the poem, if you experience any challenges as you are reading, I’m here to help out.

Enjoy the rest of your evening.

Thank You – Njabulo N.


You fall in love at a tender age,
Hoping to be loved much better tomorrow,
More than you were loved today and yesterday.
That blinds your eyes and mind,
Not noticing that you are growing apart,
Then you decide to call it quit over silly things.
Look at you now with so much regrets,
Written all over your skin and face,
Tears and heartbreak of a fragile human being.
You think that was not love.
It was love, a true one,
For what you know love to be.
It was not that deep like an ocean,
You were still young,
You were blinded by fairy tales and fantasies,
That happened in your head,
As you watched love performances.

Colour of love
You are not as hard as I had imagined you to be.
You fell in love,
You made yourself vulnerable and you got hurt,
I’m pretty sure you learnt your lesson,
You are now strong as a tortoise shell.
Fact that you passed all this,
Great pain, damage, lies and betrayal.
You have grown,
You know what you love about love,
You know what you don’t love about love.
Since you can’t read people’s mind,
You are now cautious, careful, closed and considerate,
Because you own a fragile loving heart.
This love taught you so many things,
Look at yourself,
You now know what you want and what you don’t.

The third colour of love,
Beware of the love that comes blindly,
Without any warming as it creeps on you silently.
This is the love that always get you,
You can paint the walls red,
But all that will be washed out.
Now you started to care about that person,
Without even trying to let it slide.
You don’t allow yourself to get lost in their eyes daily,
That is when you see beauty in their imperfections,
Not hiding even a single thing from them.
Look, you even want to get married to them,
Have a family together,
You thank the universe for them,
You just love them,
Without hiding your emotions

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems night poems

Distract me with love – Poetry

Tell me an amusing story
One that drives sorrows away
Laugh at me or with me
Sing a song, hum a slow lullaby
Pull my ears and call me names
Let’s ride on a train to Utopia
Grab my hands let’s elope
To fields wild as a writer’s mind
Call my name, bring me back to you
Hold my hands, tell me long stories
Distract me from a sick world
Remind me only of your love

Categories
love poems nature poems night poems Pastoral Poetry

Thoughts – Poetry

I’m memories away from you
Yet you live just in my heart
I look up the skies to see your face,
And each star glitter with your smile
I’m left with memories of us, so blessed


It’s been 15 years already and I continue to miss your love and care. For DSc Nduka Iroegbu, my father.

Categories
Africa culture/tradition love poems nature poems night poems Pastoral Poetry

A Shepherd’s Poem

Sun set slowly above the wood
Shadows appear, shepherd dreams;
Soft breeze upon evening tide,
Smell of sheep dung,
Slices of malted bread,
Songs from the wine inn,
Situated by the river bend,
Sober men drink their heart fill,
Silent hills, retreating birds,
Sally may sing her radio favourite,
Something to celebrate our countryside,
Scent of marigold and rose,
Sleepy sheep bleat gratefully,
Safe from roaming the land,
Some wish for morning already,
Sops and grapes grow wild,
Sheep love to nibble on those
Smiles bring back what are the shepherd’s;
Sweet darlings are his memories for the day

Categories
love love poems

Love Poems: I Celebrate You

Hausa Language
A greater percentage of the population in Northern Nigeria speak Hausa language. I lived in Northern Nigeria for roughly a year. Looking back to those months, I will say it was eye-opening and fun. I learned some of the culture and traditions. I met great people and made friends who were ever willing and available to teach me the lingua franca. I was impressed with the language. In fact, my interest in it had made me to enjoy discussions when soft spoken lovers interact with it. When lovers address each other in Hausa it sounds romantic to me. It’s more like French when compared to other European languages (I do consider French the most romantic language).

This poem is to the memory of great friendships, particularly the ones I left behind in Northern Nigeria. Part of my soul still lives there.

Love, tolerance and respect is all we need to drive positive change in Nigeria and Africa.


1.

I’m happy to express this with pen
Ink fade but memories live it again
I believe in love and its many hues
And that life is good when love is true

You were once a dream to me
A dream that made me a beauty

2.

Now you are like fresh rose petals
Flourishing out the morning garden
When I watch you turn and dance
Your glittering sweat trickle down
Like sparkling wine upon glass
Loving you was a sweet experience

So here’s to celebrate this love
Ina son ki! And I meant I love you!
And also celebrate the moments
And joy you brought to my soul


*Ina son ki: Hausa language for I love you

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems night poems Poetry

Poem: Love Conquers

If dreams are colourless
Then love is a magical dream
That teaches and encourages,
It trusts from the heart
Builds bridges over water
To bring worlds together
True love shared
Fear no colour or creed

I lay my head
On your shoulders
Let’s take this love to moments
Where all eyes see its beauty

Categories
love poems lullaby Poetry

Lullaby: Sing for me a Lullaby

Sing for me dear nightingale
Gather your host of voices
Rant through the early night
Tweet away joyfully from heart
Let my ears quiver from your song
Let frogs and crickets listen to it
To respond with their baritone
Sing for the sweet nectar
For red roses and hibiscus
And the traveling sunlight
Tell the stars your stories
And the wind the days you saw
Let me hear your voice sing for me,
To ring through quiet nights a lullaby

Categories
love poems nature poems Poetry

Love Poem: Dream Together

Faint voices speak,
Loud in my mind
I look in your eyes
It tells sweet stories
If I look away
It is to smile, in my heart
We live beautiful moments,
Laughter, peace, kindness,
Harmony, playful fights
And you, a perfect inspiration;
Pouting red lips
That reminds of cherries,
Hair dancing in the breeze
That spoke of dark nights,
Very light brown eyes
That talks of golden wheat,
Happy moments together;
Watching stars glitter
Singing away to hearts desire
Or the quiet gaze into sunset
Yes we dream together
Our beginning and end

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love love poems night poems Poetry

Breathe Again by Njabulo N.

Breathe again,
Like you have just gained yet another chance to live,
Life is not promised but experienced and lived.
I have grown to be a different person,
Different from normal people who do everything like everyone.

My life is not the same anymore,
I wonder why everyone is worried about it,
I no longer pay much attention,
To what the world brings or take,
I no longer pay much attention to the world ending,
I have seen it end for me countless times,
Going to my sleep with no hope left,
Then beginning again the next day.

I breathe again,
To see the darkness leave my life,
I feel like a small forest surviving off of a moon alone,
But I know that my light is extraordinary,
One that can light up the whole universe.
As I breathe again,
I have seen the world coming to an end,
My mind experiencing too many clashes,
Ideas, thoughts arguments, debates,
As my head goes in circles,
I can’t think straight no more.

As I breathe again,
I have lost trust, hope, love and respect,
I don’t believe in that anymore,
I broke the ocean in half to be somewhere,
Only to get there and I was alone,
Felt betrayed as my world crushed into so many pieces.
I lost a smile,
I find it hard to chin up,
As I bury my flower of innocence,
Because my world has shut down, crashed out yet again.

As I breathe again,
I even doubt that I still exist.
I even doubt that I have feelings.
I’m not the same being anymore,
I’m not the one you used to know before.
As I breathe again,
I learnt not to construct forever foundations,
On temporary people.
As I breathe again,
I doubt I will ever see tomorrow,
I don’t see any need of breathing again.

Categories
love love poems nature poems night poems Poetry

Poem: Man and Nature

It is pleasant to sit in the green wood,
and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold,
and the Moon in her chariot of pearl.
Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn,
and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valleys
and the heather that blows on the hill.
Yet love may be better than life,
I ask can the heart of nature be compared to the heart of man?

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry rhyme

Poem: Sail away

Evening skies – sparkle of gold,
Brewing mills across the clouds,
While it may sail to faraway lands

Categories
Inspiration/Motivation Love and Christianity love poems opinion quotes thoughts

Quote on Love

Of all the magic in the world, none is more powerful than love.

…And that’s if we accept that any other thing qualify as magic.

Love is a driving force. It can change things; perceptions and imaginations. Great achievements are accomplished through it. Great writers wrote about it. It’s something beautiful to love. Imagine what the world will look like when we love genuinely. Show love today.

Categories
lifestyle love poems nature poems night poems Poetry

Poetry: I’ll Wait

Love can be crazy
Yet I am amused
I try to figure the words
You pelt me with,
When we spoke of love
It was zenith of all, everything
Days and nights
It fell in and out
Maybe this was right,
I look farther away
Towards sunrise
A pint of love on my breast
And strong hope waiting…
To behold another beginning
So I let this patient heart beat
While it wait for you
Time will surely fade
But I will wait for your return

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry

Tender Love by Njabulo N.

Wasn’t my love enough for you?
In my mind I had concluded that you loved only me,
I thought you were cut from a different cloth,
Like you were not the same like everyone I’ve met.
But clearly, I was lying to myself,
You loved everybody like a campaigning candidate.
I could tell from my basic instincts that the universe loved you also.

You were a loaded gun and I was just a boy,
Because of lust and envy,
They took you for granted, like you were a cheap toy.
Only if I had the courage of pulling the trigger,
I’d had shot you on your head just to blow out your weak brain.

With my mind and heart filled with only love,
I hadn’t imagined my head searching for love lost,
As the absence of love was playing on your mind.
You preferred games over love,
I had promised myself to love you eternally,
I had a feeling that you were exceptional,
Like you were totally different from the rest.

I discovered that I was bluffing,
Only lying to myself, feeding my mind with toxic waste.
You proved me that my love was not enough for you,
I never imagined that you were promiscuous.
You had me believing that I mattered the most,
Of course you were buying my heart.

Our love withered so fast, before the flowers I had on my hands.
It only lasted for just a moment and nothing was left for me,
It was clear that the light was about to reach the night.
My tender love lasted for just a moment,
A moment that cost me,
Had me doubting a lot around me,
I had lost trust on everything, everyone.
Nothing was left on me,
Nothing was left for me.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love Love and Christianity love poems Poetry

Poets Corner: What is Love?

Love

As a growing Sunday School kid I learned a lot about love. Love can be defined when we explore it’s qualities or characteristics. Yet love is complex in every angle you chose to view it from. It is a mix of emotions, behaviours, and beliefs associated with strong feelings of affection, protectiveness, warmth, and respect for another person.

My dictionary offered some definitions about it:

  1. An intense feeling of affection and care towards another person.
  2. (uncountable) A deep or abiding liking for something.
  3. (uncountable) A profound and caring attraction towards someone.
  4. (countable) The object of one’s romantic feelings; a darling or sweetheart.

What is love from a Poet’s view?

Poets have different opinions on love. Let’s hear what some has to say.

Lucky Johnson puts it beautifully thus: “Love is loving those that hate, visiting the lonely, catching those that fall, being selfless to the selfish, forgiving the unforgivable, helping the helpless, and travelling long for a short visit to someone in need of a hug.” Elseta Campbell says that love is selflessness. The courage to show care unconditionally. The ability to see the person first before seeing their faults. Love is maturity. Love is forgiveness and freedom from bitterness. Love encompasses the physical and tops in on the spiritual. Love is purity of heart. This is insightful. Kiid Kgothi has this to say, “Love is hurt and disappointments that always break your heart. Love is a dangerous thing that has the power to build a relationship and a lifetime of happiness together or it can make someone give up their life because their hearts never stopped bleeding”. For Sara Elizabeth, “love is a term used to describe the deep underlying affection that is always there regardless of how you feel on the surface. To be in love is to be in thrall with one another in a psychologically and yes sexually satisfying way. To fall in love over and over means that you mean so much to each other that you always come back around to that place where you are in thrall and experiencing the release of oxytocin that draws you into that person. To love is to nurture, grow and find contentment within the lives you share. Being in love is a cycle of thrall that diminishes and swells on the hormonic wave of nature and passion”. Maybe you will agree that Sara is being too scientific with her definition of love. Tebogo Mogashoa said that love is a mystery unsolved. For Saul Mendo, love is connection. Everyone is an individual but we need to come together, out of love. Tina Layne said “the indescribable and unfathomable dance of the spirit.”

Marachimso Ajuolachi Chimenka said that love is a feeling that occurs unnoticed. Eduardo Ibacache Rodriguez opined that love is the reason poetry exists at all. Siti Atie Atka says that love is a noun and verb. Masiye Theledi supports Siti in this view. For Ntombi Vutomi Monareng, love is putting someone’s needs before yours. Love is a doing word not a naming word, you can’t always say “I love you” without action. Lulama Mbonambi puts it thus: it is starting to feel like nothing than an idea which materializes into whatever I imagine it to be. Pity most of my imagination is influenced, but the beauty in it is the infinite possibility. Like everything else in life. Joe Hall has this to say about love: “If you can confine it accurately, it’s not love. If it can be manipulated, to conform to desires it’s not love. We’ve box love; categorized, villianized, sexualized, therorecallized, all purposes of love until the purest form of love is invisible humbly before us in innocence and humanity. Steve Rawlingson says, love is as real in a poet as it is in any other person, only the poet may describe it out a little better. For Chris Hiatt, love is just a word. It’s the feelings of those people close to you that the word invokes which defines our karma. Nikki Jauron says love is learning to turn your failures into flecks of gold. Michael Munroe shared his thought: I believe that for anyone, love is when you put something or someone else above yourself. Tamar Millernas said it depends on which poet. There are as many different kinds as there are poets. As for Hudson Roper, love is ambiguous, there are many different types of love e.g. The 4 or 5 Greek words for love.

Latoya Chinnery offered that love is something you can’t explain, because words are unable to define love. No words can give love enough justice that it requires. “Love stands firm in the face of adversity… It’s not something that revels and shine during the sunshine and hide during the rainfall.” For Santa Flaviapa, love is a feeling that is usually over-imagined and over-stressed. It contains so many elements of feelings and emotions that its most important ones are often overlooked, such as commitment, perseverance, caring and caring for, union of spirit and soul, longing and needing each other. Things like joy and happiness and desire may be present or not, but are not love. Honestly I loved this particular definition. The Dreamy Idealist said that, for poets, love is accessible to all form, all perspectives side by side, love is deep emotions, feelings, for someone. Poets imagine their love in a way that no one could ever see. Unity of soul and body do not describe love in its completeness, but probably love is that part which forgets everything in the world except the soul mate. Poets imagined their love and live their own way.

Featured Poetry

Josh Gold, (untitled)

Love is not that great
Love can love to hate
Love can hurt and cause tears
Love is an alcoholic and their beers
(With all fairness there are lots of good things about love, but I think people miss the fact that it’s more like desire than universal principal of goodness)

What is love to you?

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love love poems Nature nature poems Poetry

Flight to Summer – Poetry

There’s a symphony of joy,
See it roar up bright skies!
Emissaries of the aging day
Graceful flights over Africa!

*

It float above the countryside
Leaving to fresh, green fields,
Above those endless forests
Where hope still lived ahead

*

Each journey is to an unknown promise,
Somewhere between joy and pain
But fly they must: the fair geese
Up the blue clouds, a life only known to them

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems opinion Pastoral Poetry

Courage

The breadth of earth lay wet
But the sun rise from the east,
From vague sights and mists

The dark jungles, hot and serene
Yet lions stride through the green
Fearing neither man or faun

A shriek up the skies…
Eagles soar high; many miles
Hopes high, they seeth thru’ times

The wind surfs wild oceans…
Whale’s horn blows far beyond
All tremble, sea-dwellers and stray crustaceans

Now if the skies were conquered by a bird,
And the jungle by a fearless king, crowned,
And the waters by a giant strongly revered

Then this little piece is written specially for you
To bring you a blessed combination of these virtues


This is a thank you poem for all my readers and followers. You guys are awesome. Let’s do more.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry

Sunset in Ovim

I stand by these rocks and hills, ancient
To enjoy again a beautiful moment of sunset

I’ve a new song to sing each time I behold the sun set
A song sang by my father and his father’s father

A song that echo through the hills,
Like smoke dispersing from mills,
Ancient like mud where palm trees grow
Cherished by all people who till and sow
A song enjoyed while treading this blessed path
One that my father and his father’s went
I am glad to sing for my hometown,
To make sense of everything around,
To dance alongside happy leaves of cassava
Or to admire the beautiful butterfly larva

When the skies are blue with her painting
I hear the sweet voice of evening wind sing,
With her multitude of insects, bugs,
Wailing infants and barking dogs
Happy palm wine tappers sing this song
When they wait on raw wine that trickle into kegs
Vast clouds sail across the horizon
From those heights they sing along
I watch while the blessed sun set
Down the hills that kept my path
Now familiar faces greet ndeewo
I’m ready to hear a good story or two

I stand by these rocks and hills, ancient
To enjoy again a beautiful moment of sunset


I just saw a beautiful sunset here in Ovim. Normally I would take an image. But it’s much better to experience this than to word it.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love haiku love poems nature poems Poetry

Muse: Let good paths…

Memories become tales untold
Hope are dreams in soft shield
If all passes into a sort of legend
Then let good paths never fade

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love Love and Christianity love poems Poetry

Reflection: Power in Unity

Grandma’s Cooking Stove

Grandma was a good cook. I always enjoyed her meals as a little boy. School holidays was fun for me as I had to travel home to her. She contributed immensely to those happy times. (God rest her soul.)

Whenever she made her delicious soup I usually sit by her traditional stove. I watch raging fire lick the wood. The metal stove is constructed in such a manner that there are spaces to plug in firewood and charcoal. I remember the way she worked expertly on her stove. Thrusting wood in and out, knowing when to pause, when to add more ash or charcoal and so on.

Well this little reflection is not just about my Grandma’s cooking but the lessons I got while I observed the burning wood in her stove.

Five woody brothers

Once I closely observed Grandma’s cooking method. She placed many little sticks and five strong firewood on the stove. When she lighted them the flame grew hot, gradually. It wasn’t long when the flame became fiery. I noticed that the five wood pieces had a stronger flame and whenever Grandma took out one or two to adjust her stove, the flames died down.

While reflecting on this, it dawned on me that unity is a powerful force. When the wood burned together they produced a huge flame but take them apart they can barely give much heat. I took home this lesson on the power of unity. We won’t make much progress while we are disunited. Unity is a powerful force indeed.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry

Before Moonshine

Just before moonshine
Three little mice ran,
Up the hills they went
Six pairs of legs fast,
Working tirelessly
Towards safe solitary,
Away from barn owls
And every lurking evil


This poem was inspired by A. D.
Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems

Winter Love by Robin Bliss

Looking at the plum tree.
Seeing the dark bare,
Skeleton like branches,
Black against the dreary clouds.
Stripped by Winters cold,
Of its blanket of leaves.

The ashen, dingy clouds.
Are dripping raindrops.
This fine misty rainfall.
Is moved forwards by a,
Languid, lethargic breeze,
Coming strait from Antarctica.
This bitterly cold midwinter day.

But! You and I my love are,
Sitting together on the couch.
Our arms are around each other.
Bodies snuggled close.
In this warmly heated
Lounge room, in love.
You smile at me.

I smile at you.
No need for words.
Two happy contented people.
Very deeply in love.
Deeply in love
With you.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry

Hope a poem by Ashok Gupta

If winter comes can spring be far behind?
Without hope, patience is not worth a dime!

All that seems wise
has already been said
A hundred times.
Let it stand alone
Without the need of a guise.

Evaluate it then within the recesses of your own mind.
All thoughts need some context to be meaningful
And applicable to your own life.

No thought can be absolute.
Only Truth is.
But what is Truth, who has known?
Has it ever been, in words told?

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry

Divine Grace by Rajan Varghese

Embracing beauty and power
Musical melodies of divine excellence
Grace and smile composed
By the finest artist in brilliance

Destiny follows you like
God’s will
Man often ordained as
master of his own work and
destiny to receive honour
And power!

As the divine grace
granting new life
with a new name and
blessings!

Like a shepherd
Named Jacob
determined, wrestled
with God and nature!

Through out the night
To hold on the Divine
Till the day break in
faith and meditation!

As the shepherd loved
knowing the Divine Name
The Divine in turn
Blessed him with
A new name Israel!


@ RajanVarghese
Trivandrum Kerala
India . July 09, 2020

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Pastoral Poetry

Love Poem: Let’s Dream Away

Your voice wakes the wild nature in me
When you sing the lyrics gladden my soul
I adore those moments you look over your shoulder
To catch my happy stare; as you dance away, laughing

***

You dress like tulips that grow on the farmyard
Fresh, delicate pink, lively as green bean pods
Scenting the room with your flowery perfume
When we walk on the beach, you lead this scent

***

So when night come upon our weary selves,
You make me close my eyes and dream away

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems opinion Poetry

Art of Divine Poetry By Bhagirath Choudhary (Translated to Italian, Filipino, Albanian, French, Romanian, Spanish, Serbian)

Art of Divine Poetry

Poetic imagination
Praises beauty of creation
Giving words and voice
To every human nation

Poet feels the pulse
By his poetic impulse
Bard’s heart resonates
With loving sonnets.

Loving poetic spell
When rises well
The ordinary mortal
Becomes divine poetry portal.

With sacred passions
Poets dress up naked nations
Bards like holy masons
Build temples of civilizations.

All rights reserved
© Bhagirath Choudhary
June 11, 2020


Translation into Italian by celebrated Poetess Patrizia Girardi

Arte della divina poesia

Immaginazione poetica
elogia la bellezza del creato
Dando parole e voce
Per ogni nazione umana

Il poeta sente il battito
Con il suo impulso poetico
Il cuore dei vati risuona
Con sonetti amorevoli

Amorevole incantesimo poetico
Quando si alza bene
Il comune mortale
Diventa il portale della poesia divina

Con sacre passioni
I poeti vestono le nazioni nude
Ai vati piacciono i santi costruttori
Costruisci templi di civiltà.

© Patrizia Girardi


Translated into Filipino
By: Eden Soriano Trinidad

Sining ng Banal na Tula

Matulaing imahinasyon
Pinupuri ang ganda ng nilikha
Pagkakaloob ng mga salita at tinig
Sa bawat bansang kinabibilangan ng tao.

Ramdam ng makata ang pulso
Sa udyok ng pagkamatulain
Puso ng makata ay nakikiayon
Na may pagmamahal ang bawat tula.

Gustong gusto ang nakakaakit na tula
Kapag ito ay hinusayan
Ang ordinaryong mortal
Nagiging banal na daluyan ng panulaan

Sa masagradong damdamin
Dinaramtan ng mga makata ang kahubdan ng mga bansa
Mga makata ay tulad ng mga banal na mason
Nagtatayo ng mga templo ng sibilisasyon.

Translation in Filipino
© Eden Soriano Trinidad


Translated into Albanian by Seli Murati

Arti i Poezisë Hyjnore

Imagjinata poetike
Vlerë e bukur e kriesës
Me fjalën dhe zërin e bukur
Për çdo komb njerëzor

Poeti e ndjen pulsin
Për nga impulsi i tij poetik
Zemra e Bard rezonon
Me sonete të dashura.

Dashuri magji poetike
Kur ngrihet mirë
I vdekshëm i zakonshëm
Bëhet portal i poezisë hyjnore.

Me pasione të shenjta
Poetët vishen kombet e zhveshur
Bardha si muratorë të shenjtë
Ndërtoni tempuj civilizimi.

Të gjitha të drejtat e rezervuara
© Seli Murati
July 02, 2020.


Translated into French by Gordana Saric

L’ ART DE LA POÉSIE DIVINE

L’ imagination poétique
Apprécie la beauté de la création
En donnant des mots et une voix
A chaque nation humaine.

Le poète sent le pouls
Avec son impulsion poétique
Le coeur du bard résonne
Avec des sonnets d’ amour.

La magie douce d’ amour
Quand il monte bien
Le mortel ordinaire
Devient un portail poétique divin.

Avec une sainte passion
Les poètes habillent les nations nues
Les bardes en tant que saints maçons
Construisent des temples de la civilisation.

French translation by Gordana Saric
©Gordana Saric
July 01, 2020


Translated into Romanian by Georgiana L. Gheorghe

Arta poeziei divine

Imaginația poetică
Laudă frumusețea creativă
Oferind cuvinte și voci
Fiecărei țări.

Poetul simte pulsul
Din impulsul poetic
Inima bardului răsună
De sonetele duioase.

Frumoasa vrajă poetică
Când crește mare
Omul nornal
Devine portalul poeziei divine.

Cu pasiuni sfinte
Poeții îmbracă națiile goale
Asemeni sfinților pietrari
Barzii ridică temple de civilizații.

Toate Drepturile Rezervate.
Bhagirath Choudhary
11.06.2020
(Traducere în limba română: Georgiana L. Gheorghe)


Translated into Spanish by Tony Delgadillo

“El Arte De La Poesía Divina”

La imaginación poética
elogia la belleza de la
creación, dando palabras
y voz a toda nación humana.

El poeta siente el pulso
por su impulso poético.
Su corazón de bardo resuena
con sonetos amorosos.

Amando un deletreo poético,
el mortal ordinario se eleva
y se convierte en portal
de poesía divina.

Con pasiones sagradas,
los poetas visten naciones
desnudas. Los bardos, como
santos edificadores, construyen
templos de civilizaciones.

Todos los derechos reservados
© Bhagirath Choudhary
11 de junio de 2020
(Traducción al español
y conversión a prosa: Tony Delgadillo.


Translated into Serbian by Ljiljana Samardžić

Umjetnost Božanstvene Poezije

Pjesnička mašta
Hvali ljepotu stvaranja
Dajući riječi i glas
Svakom ljudskom narodu.

Pjesnik osjeća puls
Svojim pjesničkim impulsom
Bardovo srce odjekuje
Sa voljenim sonetima.

Kad se voljena pjesnička čarolija
Dovoljno uzdigne
Obični smrtnik
Postaje božanstveni portal poezije.

Sa svetim strastima
Pjesnici otmjeno oblače gole narode
Bardovi kao sveti zidari
Grade hramove civilizacije.

Translated from English to Serbian by Ljiljana Samardzic
© Ljiljana Samardzic

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems

Gilded Rays by Robin Bliss

The slender gilded rays
Of Winter sunshine,
Brightens up this room.
Where I sit writing.
Hitting glassy surfaces,
Of bottles,glistening.
Feeling the warmth pleasantly,
Warming my arms and legs.

Your love my dearest,
Is just as these beams.
For your sweet tenderness has,
Lightened up my dullness,
And the warmth of your,
Gentleness has captivated me,
And melted the cold,coldness;
That was within me,
And I rejoice.

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Africa Africa, Poetry and Love haiku love poems nature poems Poetry

Haiku: Home

Night fall dreams
A ride through moonshine
Home may tell tales

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Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry

And So I Fly by Robin Bliss

When I am
Downtrodden.
Trampled into the mud.
Deserted by all.
Misunderstood.
Left for dead.
Despised.
Forgotten.

You! My beloved,
Are there for me.
Your love,
Lifts me up.
Rising above,
The mud and mire.
Your love is,
Unending,
And I fly.

Soaring on Gossamer
Wings so high.
You never let me down,
And I fly,
Far, far above,
All troubles and cares.
Into the realms,
Eternal I go.

Drifting upwards.
Into the infinite,
Eternal love.
Love that embraces all.

Categories
Africa Africa, Poetry and Love lifestyle love poems Nature nature poems

Sunlight – Poetale of Gratitude

Why am I so happy to see the sun rise and smell her sweet fragrance? I may not explain exactly, but this is why.

Before now I slept like a log, snoring away, unconscious to the world’s drama. Nocturnal creatures crept, birds hoot. The night is innocently quiet but may have consumed many. My windows are open, the whistling pines sang a lullaby. Soft rain drum the rooftop. Pata-pata was her fair rhythm. The wind accompanied the rhythm with an invisible guitar, addressing my bed. Cool breeze rent, blowing kisses, caressing man who slept. It wooed man to dreamland, where he could see beautiful things. All these while, I am man, bones and flesh, helpless only to Providence and her benevolence.

The sun’s glamour lit the skies, it woke man. Golden rays filter through the curtain, a welcome to new day. Blue clouds wait outside, there the green field lay wet with dew. Grasshoppers, beetles and crickets play in them. When stick insects fly, their zithering wings create a tune. Termites are busy moving their quarry. Mantises cling like monkeys to tree leaves. Trees are calm, resting from the long cold night. Squirrels play up their branches, the wind their surfboard. Egrets, pigeons, turtle doves, skylarks, bluebirds and others enjoy the fresh air. Their cries fill the horizon with hope, they spoke of gratitude and joy, of seeing a new day. Grey and brown mushrooms sprout, squeezing out of earth little umbrella citadels for ants. Some shaped like the anthill down the road. Bright flowers dance in the morning breeze. They are dressed in different schools: white and purple, green and yellow, red and pink, or blue and orange. Their stalks a perfectly sewn uniform, each glamouring in her pretty dress. The canopy of green grass expands each morning. There’s carpet grass, mother nature’s rug. There’s the guinea grass, tall enough to hide bugs and worms. Butterflies roam the garden, sunlight behind their back. Tree leaves fall in circles, to meet the wind at the foot of trees. A stronger wind gladly sweeps them all over the garden – a queer rollercoaster without wheels. Yet sunlight came in installments, watching over all.

I have a friend who checks on my window each morning. She admires herself at the glass mirror. From the other side I laugh at her fluffy beauty. Straight beak sitting on a funny face. Two agile broom-like legs holding a big body. Those legs, a perfect weightlifter, just that it lacked muscle. Black feathers, white underbellies – a reminder of me whenever I wore a black suit. ‘But why are you so pretty every morning?‘ I wonder. I smell the flowers that live not far away. Hibiscus and Flamboyant, different colours, many scents. Strength in diversity. But colour has no scent. The wet clay smell nice too, in it the bull frog family live. The garden is a big theatre – a world of its own. If I ever knew the winds tune, I will sing with her. She sang slowly, sometimes high, other times low-pitch. So I hum in my heart and whistle when I am overwhelmed. I write a song in my mind. I will let the later morning hear it and trust that she keeps my tune secret.

I am grateful for the song on the roof. For those little angels disguised as birds that wake me. For the cool breeze that makes sleep enjoyable. For night rains that sing me a lullaby. For the green garden and her flourishing faun and flora. For dew that wet my foot when I walk through the green grass. For the insects and birds that greet the morning with a beautiful song. For the love, joy, peace and hope that comes with each bright morning. Gratitude is still the best attitude.

Do you now see why I am happy when I see sunlight? For me, to live is to be grateful.

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems Nature nature poems opinion Pastoral Poetry

I am Poetry

I am needle, needless of pain, driving through fabric, to create a happy stitch,

I am dance, sometimes something sane, twists and turns, breaking within or without,

I am fury, memories may wane, trust on mere ink and paper, pale but yet transparent

I am innocence, a cry too soon, living for the weak, suns glam and joyous warmth

I am poetry, needle for needless pain, innocent cry not heard, dance within sanity and fury of many spirits


Happy Father’s day 👪

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems nature poems Poetry rhyme

Poets Corner: Why is Poetry Less Popular?

HOW I CAME TO LOVE POETRY

As an introverted teen I found solace in writing. All my thought was written in form of poetry. I also wrote poetry for my faculty and student magazines. Fast forward to many years, I submitted my first story and poetry to two different competitions. I didn’t make the shortlist for the short story contest but made third place in a National Poetry competition! Since then I decided to focus more on poetry. I made Google my friend and looked up local and international writing competitions. There were many story writing (prose) contests split into fiction and non fiction with huge cash prizes! The same went for drama competitions with mouth-watering prizes, but this was not the case for poetry. I mean there are poetry contests out there but few offered good prize money.

MY OPINION

That little story of mine formed the basis for my argument that poetry is not as popular as other literary genres. I won’t draw only from my experience. So I decided to engage my friends and mentors on long discussions. I also stayed late nights in many Poetry Groups to brainstorm with other poets. At the end I was able to collate some of their thoughts. I will share them here.

OTHERS OPINION

My first contact was Diego Donati, who believes that “to appreciate poetry you need to be sensitive and speak from the heart. And not many people are like that.” Mark Priestly provided a similar answer to Diego’s with a rhetorical question, “Because it only appeals to the poetic?” I thought so too. But must one be poetic to accept poetry? Soumya Naik supported Mark’s position as he believed that only poetic minds can understand the emotions in a poem.

My friend Steve Stone believes that good poetry makes people think and most are too lazy to be bothered with that.

“I think partially because it doesn’t get as much exposure because it doesn’t sell as well as the other genres. I think that might have to do with Rock and Roll becoming popular in the mid-50’s. Again with Rap and Hip Hop exploding on the music scene in the early 80’s. If there’s no market for it no one is going to promote so less people are going to discover it and read it.” Steve Howard aptly put.

Sarah Mulqueen quipped, “It doesn’t have to be written ‘correctly’, it has a law all of it’s own which I know drives my mother crazy.”

“I would have to say because it is often ambiguous and open to more than one interpretation. My cure for that is to write using common language in uncommon ways.” Tate Morgan supported. Kiran Sharan has this to say: “Perhaps because it’s much more difficult to encapsulate your feelings or thought processes in a few lines as compared to prose where you can ramble on and on unless of course you’re writing an Iliad an Odyssey a Mahabharata or a Paradise Lost.”

August Hill was more radical in his approach. “People are too stupid to understand metaphors and symbolism, they fall asleep with the rhythm if a poem is well done because instead of listening their mind can’t concentrate that much, honestly I’d argue mostly they just hear the rhymes. That’s my take actually.”

He went further to elaborate. “For what it’s worth the other day I was looking for a poetry circle in my city. Figured I’d look on the paper and internet and all I could find was articles about “Is poetry a dead art in my country.” So I’m not as optimistic as all the folks that say that poetry is up there. Plus if you look at it historically most poets that were historically and literary consequential died in complete poverty, mistreated by their society to the point of starving to dead, dying of disease or being chased away by their family. So this isn’t something new.

In the words of the French poet Baudelaire, “A poem never was worth bread.” I think it’s because of the abstract nature of poetry, a good poem is worthless because it cannot have a price on it, not because it is mind feaces, but because literally a good poem is world changing, and nobody could ever own a gift to humanity. Which is precisely the nature of poetry.” I agree with this. He went further.

“It’s not that poverty is part of the life of a poet, it’s just that we are forced into it and we find peace of mind through poetry. I’d say, if you wanna make money definitely don’t try to do it through poetry, now if you want to glance behind the veil of reality or if you have a message for the world, that’s a good motivation for poetry. You’ll be disappointed if you seek wealth through it, but if you know you seek something greater you’ll never be disappointed and you probably will reach it without even noticing it. People around you will tell you, you made it, and it will mean more than all the money in the world.

At the same time I wrote hundreds of poems, and what I noticed is that if you really want to write, you must write to write, not write for fame, not for money, not even for recognition… at best if you find kindred spirits you can share. But even then poems are not meant to be understood by a reader the way a poet writes.” August concluded.

“From my point of view (I am not dismissing how you see it) well admired is a bit of a stretch. I think people who like and admire poetry are few and far between and they might feel like it’s well admired because perhaps they see it more in their own lives. I feel like If I think about the entire country, football would be well admired and poetry, liked by some.” Emily Simmance said.

Akua Daps has this to say, “I think part of it is that people have lost the appreciation for the beauty of its interpretation. People want to be shown and told how to view it. Ex. Descriptive books and movies. Vs. How poetry takes your mind on a journey. People aren’t taught the literary tools to dissect poetry like back in the day.”

Luke Fallow has this to say, “Because a certain type of poetry has been perpetuated which is really self indulgent and depressing, so people assume all poetry is just writing about how sad you are.”

In the words of Steve Anc, “People prefer direct communication, but poets had twisted that already.
Therefore, they are confused.” Benjamin Davis supports this “It takes almost as much skill to read and comprehend it as it does to write it.” Cassandra Cassy added that “It’s more difficult to understand both in meaning and language. It seems boring to readers.”

For Michael Walsh poetry is a mystery for most people. “I mean, we do have the quite simple poem written about a simple subject, and anyone reading it is quite certain of what it is about.

On the other hand, we have a number of different types of poetry. Some almost never to be understood properly, and often no real idea about what it is about. I suppose in that regard, poetry is very similar to Paintings and Drawings. To some a simply painting is beautiful, whilst some you have to stand in your head with one eye closed, and still not get it. I think the ability to read poetry is probably a much harder skill than it is to write it.

In all of these matters we are talking about not just cerebral pursuits, but also entertainment. And people being entertained do not usually like to work too hard. For then, it is no longer entertainment, but work; and often very hard work. And people do not expect to have work to be entertained; those two for most people are diametrically opposed. People like to see and feel what is going on, and in the broad field of reading and writing, most prefer a good novel to read. It is there in front of you, and is relaxingly simple. Poetry, in a very general sense, is not easy, and it can be very hard or even impossible to understand. So what is the point? There is the adventure poem. I will refer here to poem about a horse in Australia. Not last century now, but the one before. Two movies about it. “The Man From Snowy River”. This is a long poem. Literally, a novel in a poem. It has an upbeat feel to it, some uncommon language, but by the end if it, you feel like you have ridden the horse. The poem literally gallop along. By the end, the heart is pumping, the breathing fast. You knew what you had done. One of my favourite forms of poetry.

And let’s face it, some poetry does absolutely nothing for me, and I love poetry.”

Ahmed Jouini gave a support response. “It’s less popular because it requires more effort from the audience than the other genres: in cinema you have everything in front of you; in music you can just zone out and keep listening as long as there is a catchy beat or some rhymes etc. This is just one of the reasons.” Abraham Conneh added further, “Poetry is either appreciated or not depending on people’s perception of it. If fuel and spiced well with some visual lay minds grasped its value. More exposure may get people to consider its value.” Also John Green has this to say, “The fact is, many people want something that is 100% tangible, direct, and doesn’t require thinking in the abstract with multiple meanings being possible.”

Nola Alvaro quipped that “Poetry is to be savoured in small amounts like the finest of wines.”

Marrero has this to say, “Cause people just don’t like to express themselves. Poets are realists. Most people ain’t. And not only that, but I believe it goes by generation. This generation is too distracting. Too many things going on around us. This is the era of modern technology, and mind altering substances. The list goes on, but you get my point.”

Colin Ward‘s opinion: “There are a number of reasons why English language poetry was entirely subsumed by song lyrics during the 20th century. Copyright law began the decline, the pseudointelligensia’s fascination with cryptocrap accelerated it, and the education system administered the coup de grâce when it ceased teaching its elements”

Ch’erie de Perrot‘s view is that lyrics for songs are written from poetry, tweaked of course to avoid copyright. “We are the inspiration of many authors, musicians, directors and movie producers. Alas, the underpaid brilliance behind so much, but for the love of it all, we keep going, and laugh when we see a slogan even on an advertisement… Smile to self.”

Tia Papillion agreed with my opinion. “A lot of non poets only seek poetry and interested by it till they actually need it or reach that point. A lot of people would rather go to get a love book v/s reading a love poem they don’t understand. Of course don’t have to be about love, but a lot of people think that’s all poetry is good for.”

‘OTHERWISE POETS’

Some poets like Benjamin Allhands thought otherwise because “Popular and or return on investment is difficult. Unless you self publish getting a book off is hard. Some spend decades trying.” Also James Horton argued that “there are elements of poetry in other literary genre.” I totally agree.

When Jay McDaid gave his opinion, it was completely otherwise. “That is simply untrue. It’s well liked. What you are thinking of is the fact that people are less likely to purchase poetry books. That happened when pulp fiction became the common denominator rather than the lowest. One need only drop into a gift card shop to see how popular the primitive verse is.”

Godswill Iren argued further; “That’s not true. Poetry comes first in the origin of the genres. Drama came through festivals and rehearsals which became adopted as a form of entertainment. But before that poetry existed through folklores and chants from praise singers. Songs and epic stories told in poetry form was the original work before other forms like prose developed.” Pretty insightful, right?

Haider Farooq opined that “Poetry is the fundamental reason of creations. Poetry is most popular. Even we like to listen to songs not fiction. We read fiction and sing poetry.” When I asked him why publishers prefer other genres. He replied “Please be informed that I’m not opposing other genres however, the publisher is a business man so he accommodates all.”

Kim Fleming bluntly disagreed. “I don’t agree! Poetry is usually about love it is the most exalted art form! Most of all religious scriptures of the world are in part or in whole poetry, and most song lyrics are poetry, look at how important love poetry is in religion and in song. Humankind has a natural desire to express the most exalted truth in verse and many songs are religious in theme. Personally I love Neil Diamond. He is my favourite singer/songwriter! I practically worship this guy. No matter who you are you have a favourite singer/ songwriter, I’ll wager!”


Knowledge is power, knowledge shared is power multiplied. – Robert Noyce.

That’s it for today at Poets’ Corner. What’s your opinion?

Categories
Africa, Poetry and Love love poems Nature nature poems reflection

Peace: Declare war on War

Let storms clap and rain fall heavily
To wash fields free of blood & grease
Let snow clog boots & war machines
Let air blow deadly fighter jets off
So darkness may turn to green fields & blue skies again
Let the world know undiluted peace
When Nature declares war on War!


I pray for peace in our lives, communities and societies, and in all nations on Earth.

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Africa Africa, Poetry and Love lifestyle love poems Nature nature poems Nigeria Pastoral Poetry

Orie Market Day

It’s Orie day here. Orie is a big market day in Isuikwuato. Everybody will be heading to the market to trade. People from different places buy and sell here. I walk through the quiet hills to get some fresh air and pick some flowers.

Thankfully I have the quiet road to myself. I also have imagined poems for these majestic hills and diverse flora. There’s a deep pond close by, it gave a sweet smell of dry clay mixed with water. I will pass. I am not a fan of ponds.

I have noticed new farms. I have seen several farmers till their fertile land. I helped tie up yams and process cassava. These past few days I have only eaten fresh vegetable and fruits grown here. I will seldom see fresh food in town.

This is one of the hills sheltering Umukwu Amune, Ovim. There are more just around the bend. This explains why it’s cold all morning and night. During noon time, the sun is hot. As I write, I sit under thick foliage to listen to different birds and draft down poems. Indeed nothing compares to quiet places. Stay tuned for more poems.

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Africa lifestyle love poems Nature nature poems Pastoral Poetry Series tips

Nature’s Kindness

Bird songs, colourful butterflies and sun rays,
Are fruits from Nature’s basket of kindness,
To man, his clan she gave tranquility and peace

Categories
Africa folklore lifestyle love poems Nature nature poems Pastoral Poetry Series

Amuse: Tomato Poem

Today I met this round twins, sumptuous red fruit
By the garden they grew, so I’ll make a muse for it.

1.

Hanging down hopelessly as their weight was a clear burden,
Close to a busy ant hole, where ants traversed without care,
Their redness portray the sun’s ire but they seem quite unperturbed
I looked at them again, they bounced about, shy, when the wind pushed
A huge fly buzzed above them, loudly, bothering me that stood far off
They stared back at me, blushing with the loud fly, I shrugged
‘Well, hello. You’ve seen enough already. What do we owe your gaze?’
‘I’m just a passerby, I happened to notice an unusual beauty in my garden’
‘Oh okay, the last time we checked we ain’t in a museum that’s why we asked’
They seem embarrassed on my presence, I also felt same too
Toh, your beauty has dumbfounded me, forgive me fair tomato,
‘I haven’t seen much of anyone, who combined both grace and grass in such beauty’,
With a wave of their leaves, I think they danced or maybe, just accepted my apology

2.

Now if I let myself ponder on their puny life, how lonely they seem,
Fulfilling though that they sat on good clay, and the wind their bossy anchor
Yet, I came to learn from them, of their benevolence to saucy and noisy neighbours,
Their humility and perseverance in stubborn winds and intruders,
Their patience in the warm sun, the embarrassing ways passersby stare at their nakedness
And their compassion as a citadel to bees, ants and man who find them a delicacy
This tomato had made me fall in love, not just with my heart, but with my stomach too

Categories
Africa love poems Nature nature poems Pastoral Poetry rhyme Series

When Waterfalls sing

I told trees of your songs and they are jealous,
When you drop, birds and the wild stop to listen,
To hear you sing a melody from the long fall
And watch you wash your garment on the rush below

Categories
Africa love poems Nature nature poems opinion Pastoral Poetry

Traveler

is.jpg

The traveler is like the sun
Which traverse the length of Earth,
Seen her people, food and cultures
He is like a blast of the wind
Blowing cold and hot at times
And fine dust is his companion
The traveler is like a compass
Searching for North pole
Seeking gladly new lands
The traveler is a big book
Though he may have read little
Pass for a walking encyclopaedia


Image taken from http://www.wiautism.com