POEMS: Piggies, Tempestuous Tranquility, Death, Waters, Wean, Santa, This Fear Of Joy & Man


When I go to market, another stays at home.
If you had roast beef, another had the bone.
Funny how all cry (we); and still end with none.


The wisdom in every beauty
Is not buried within its scenery,
For its goodness and overt sincerity
Consoles every form of misery
And looses every kind of enmity,
To love its sheer sight and merry.


Cruel, cruel death
We have never met.

I only just heard
Of the fear in tears you said.

You’ve been about the herd
And oh the wonder you fed.

Who tells if you’re sent
When you only just left?


Look at the waters, compare and see
How like man it turns out to be.
With substances or matters joint,
It changes form and focus point.

Piffling people see evil before it reveals,
And all good only after it has surfaced.
From unlikely substances pain heals
And old valuable matter, are defaced.

No action without its consequence,
Then this love is basically insanity.
Take a dip and the source is essence;
Faith’s indulgence keeps humanity.


Bo! Little weenie, boo!
Has Mama whispered the scores?
Love draws its busy bow
Over the horizons of many bores.

The taste of many sowed
Weaponed you for battle, yee ha!
Your taste buds tempted and woed
Cried your resistance thus far.

Shh, little one sleep.
You’ll know good won’t always win.
Flesh for teeth, yet grass for sheep;
You, surely Mama will wean.


When you say yes or nay,
He beams okay and offers to pay.

Your nappy ever neat and white
To his nostrils, wit and sight.

Though sheared, running all naked;
Of all to busy the streets, you he mated.

Put the (n) behind at the end;
Lucky fellow, you know your friend.


Bleeding trees don’t all die.
Into our lives a lot will pry.

The driest seed will germinate,
Its pains would compensate.

All leaves die, dry and fall,
Surely will those today so tall.

The little shoots rises we know,
So will all small people grow.

Every growing bud has its own day,
Eluding this fear of joy is our way.


Man is built and made to a form,
Yet he so searches to end this norm.