Poems

Literary scribbles.

BUSH WOMAN

Don’t ask me why but I can tell a lie
I choose not to because it’s easier to fry
It’s simpler to pound the yams and fix the mound
Than mend the frown that takes fed-up men to the ground

No space for pancakes on my face
No time to spend gazing at who I am
I can’t go peeling off the glow he gave as skin
And claim I do Him service by looking now like a rainbow

No need for claws on my fingers
To do engravings like witch Samadora
But sure I can rub him smooth and soft
And free the hands that cuddle nature

No need for extensions on my crown
Well you sure know I’ve a forest to my own
It’s thick and heavy and yes is bliss
It’s gold to those who know what it’s worth

That loin that goes far beyond, it’s bliss
I can run and skip in it, yes, even blink to let in the seed
I can take it turns and never let him beg
I can carry and let the seed blossom, it’s my joy to do it, to see us many

I don’t think you need to see the lines up and back
Even if he wants, he’ll sure not see it so
I’m all covered and yes, I’m glad I am
Whether I stay at home, my office or the farm

I don’t think I need to squirch on 6 inches heels
Do I really need to sign a blank cheque for such a sprain?
Well, maybe my floor has no tiles or cement though I walk bare
And maybe I don’t need those to stand tall and face him square

It’s good, no offense, it’s good to look good
It’s bad to say you’ll fix you cuz He who made you made you wrong
It’s right to go clean or high and no one says oth
It’s bad to say you know it all when someone isn’t you
It’s good to go buzzy and trendy and chick
It’s mean and shallow to think that’s all there is to life

No need to look like a borrowed maze
Where you find yourself looking for yourself
Oh You took yourself to and lost yourself in that maze
For fear you’d be called a bush woman

But hey, a bush woman I’m proud to be
I’m not swinging high or rotting low
I’m simply who and what He made; I glow
More than anything in the world, I’m proud to be me.

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How Annabella was killed

Annabella from her earliest years was set to be a priceless pearl

She took her ink and paper well and made it spill to her brain so dear

She made it work and earn her pay and papa saw his gem so rare

Just live her dream and spread her flair until from her was snuffed the air

 

And while she meant to take her flight, the cuckoo missed his way

He zapped his life and mortgaged hers and lo, it was no play

And lying there, Annabella looked and saw her blood being frayed

And all along her papa here could nought, but simply prayed

 

And while she tried to stand the fight, the vultures saw a chance

To make some coins and toss their lives and lo hers was on stance

And lying there, Annabella looked as that her hope was chopped

If only all the sharks around had consciences that hadn’t flopped

 

And while she fought the extra mile, the whitened robes were nigh

All ready-go to make the dough and lo her life was sighing

And lying there, Annabella saw how cruelty was below-high

If only GPs and sharks and robes had chosen not to look by

(c)spreadshirt.com

 

And while I think and scribble this, I see her gentle face

I pray she finds eternal bliss, if she did run the Race.

And I wonder how Annabella would’ve been if we hadn’t all the haze

All the cocktail of their impish hearts that puts us in a maze

 

 

 

And that is how Annabella looked and saw how she was killed

And that is how I am telling you so more blood wouldn’t be spilled

And sitting here, I look and see how bleak the future is

Cuz what would change if all they do is sit and feign peace?

 

 

PAPA GOD NA YA HANDWORK

Had this been in those days, we’ll be saying “… with stringed instruments…” or maybe “… with drums and gongs…” in these days. lol. Trying it out in 2018 in Cameroon pidgin English. Savour, gratitude to God for his manifold handiwork all around us. 

Na ya plenty handwork eh, papa God na ya plenty handwork eh.
The life we di live eh, the air we di breathe eh
The chop we di chop eh, and the bed we di sleep eh
The pikin we di born eh, and the ones weh dem die eh
The birthdays we see eh, and the old age we reach eh
The work we di get eh, and the pay we di spend eh
The smile we di show eh, and the tears we di shed eh
For the sleep we di sleep eh, and the peace in our minds eh
For the foot to waka eh, and the nyash to de shit eh
For the mouth to de chop eh and the head to de think eh
For the voice to de sing eh, and the eyes to de admire eh
For the body to de fix eh, and the selfies to de take eh
For the airtime to de call eh, and the apps to de use eh
The famz we belong to eh, and the frenz wey be we own eh
The holes and the hills eh, the trees and the streams eh
Ya Son y blood eh, and the life Y di give eh
Oh na why we di thank you eh, for Ya plenty handwork eh
Na ya plenty handwork eh, papa God na ya plenty handwork eh!!!
Happy New Year 2018

#Oneday

One day we’ll make a toss at the moon

And thank the stars for their fiery zoom

That’ll be when we see that all the gloom

All the slum and rot have stopped to boom

 

And then we’d sing the famous song

That song that tells of praise

Of promises of lands of peace and glory

The glorious peace our fathers failed to bequeath

 

Then they’d hear how foul their voices have been

Their voices so full of all their vice

They’ll feel how sorry their lungs will taste

As it draws its air from the blood they’ve shed

 

Then I’ll sit and toss with my son

I’d tell him how windy the tale has been

Perhaps he may,  just may come to see

How it all comes to be on that fateful day

 

On that day when the sun will salute the moon

On that day when our  gray spirits would be gay

On that day when our glorious peace wouldn’t fray

How I long for that day which sure will come, one day.

 

84

Grandmamma saw him standing

Mama did same; and so do I

Baby soon is coming

Still no hint of him leaving

 

He says he wants to talk

His mouth self-bridled as a horse’s

Yet he continues his red walk

Just as sly as little foxes

 

His knife at hand is one

The smile of his devilish band

They’re ready to see him stand

Even when he’s been too long a-one

 

Yeah, Bob was swiped out

By his friends, no, sorry fiends

But he’s got them here to pout

Cuz they work out their dirty ends

 

He’s eighty four today

And may still stand till a hundred

And I’m darn sure that just one day

He’ll drown himself in my dread

 

FOR THE 30

I pray for the thirty, for the thirty who are thirsty

For the thirty who are thirsty of the justice of their land

Of their land which is smashed and dashed about as nought

Which is dashed about as nought as though they really don’t matter

As though they really don’t matter because they never really did

They never really did because their fathers wrought it so

Their fathers wrought it so because their brains had so been milked

Their brains had so been milked because they looked more at their breasts

They looked more at their breasts because their tummies needed fat

Their tummies needed fat although their children were growing hungry

Their children were growing hungry for the fatness of their soil

(c) jtbarts

Hungry for their fatness and thirsty for their flow

 

Hungry for their freedom and thirsty for their glow

Hungry for their children and the need to see them grow

Thirsty like the thirty who are aiming for their brow!

 

 

LOVE ALONE!

She lay across looking at me,
She felt so warm, so full of glee.
And I, my heart could not contend,
That LOVE that love alone can tend.

An inch apart, yet close at heart
Her thugs like hugs that start to bud
That super pull, her gentle pat
That strike the strings of nature’s cord

Ouuuccchhhhhh, puuuuussssshhhhh, she’s such price gem,
This love’s long pearl, lovelier than ’em.
My LOVE, my joy, so full a gleeful friend
This LOVE that love alone would tend.

(c) dreamstime

Image: dreamstime

OLD BEN’S STORY

A Minister passing through his church in the middle of the day,

Decided to pause by the altar to see who comes to pray.

Just then the back door opened and a man came down the aisle,

The minister frowned as he saw the man hadn’t shaved in a while.

His shirt was torn and shabby, and his coat was worn and frayed,

The man knelt down and bowed his head, then rose and walked away.

 

(c) gallery.com

(c) gallery.com

In the days that followed at precisely noon, the preacher saw this chap,

Each time he knelt just for a moment, a lunch pail in his lap.

Well, the minister’s suspicions grew, with robbery a main fear,

He decided to stop and ask the man, ‘What are you doing here?’

The old man said he was a factory worker, and lunch was half an hour

Lunchtime was his prayer time, for finding strength and power.

I stay only a moment because the factory’s far away;

As I kneel here talking to the Lord, this is kinda what I say:

 

‘I JUST CAME BY TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.

SO, JESUS, THIS IS BEN, JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

 

The minister feeling foolish told Ben that it was fine.

He told the man that he was welcome to pray there anytime.

‘It’s time to go, and thanks,’ Ben said as he hurried to the door.

Then the minister knelt there at the altar, which he’d never done before.

His cold heart melted, warmed with love, as he met with Jesus there.

As the tears flowed down his cheeks, he repeated old Ben’s prayer:

 

‘I JUST CAME BY TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

I DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.

SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME, JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

 

Past noon one day, the minister noticed that old Ben hadn’t come.

As more days passed and still no Ben, he began to worry some.

At the factory, he asked about him, learning he was ill.

The hospital staff was worried, but he’d given them a thrill.

 

The week that Ben was with them, brought changes in the ward.

His smiles and joy contagious; changed people were his reward.

The head nurse couldn’t understand why Ben could be so glad,

When no flowers, calls or cards came, not a visitor he had.

 

The minister stayed by his bed, he voiced the nurse’s concern:

No friends had come to show they cared. He had nowhere to turn.

Looking surprised, old Ben spoke up and with a winsome smile;

‘The nurse is wrong, she couldn’t know; He’s been here all the while.’

Everyday at noon He comes here, a dear friend of mine, you see,

He sits right down and takes my hand, leans over and says to me:

 

‘I JUST CAME BY TO TELL YOU, BEN, HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP, AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN.

I THINK ABOUT YOU ALWAYS AND I LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY,

AND SO BEN, THIS IS JESUS, JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

 

© Anon

Someone sent it to someone, who sent it to someone, who sent it to someone, who sent it to me, who’s sending it you. Shalom!

 

 

LIKE WAVES IN MARCH

Going through my poetry recollections, I stumbled on this, once composed for a boon friend. Words have some power in that they rarely fade, rarely go out of touch. Persons may, but words keep their splendour, the moment, the mind. Like then, like now, march into March like waves on a seashore. Stay positive, always!

k

DESIDERATA (2)

ollA few months back, I found myself in an amiss situation with my father, and he told me to « Go back to the Desiderata, read it as though it was for an exam, carefully; thoroughly”.

And so I did. I often did. Had I missed out on something the previous times? Well, I did, the words were the same, the meaning I drew, the same. But, yes, but…

The lines, though simply a reminder, speak a truth so carefully and quietly they cut through the mind and even the soul. Simple things that are desired, desired by all and for all –the desiderata.

Guess in the part of the entire poem I posted same time last year, one of my creams is “As far as possible, without surrender; Be on good terms with all persons; Speak your truth quietly and clearly, And listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; They too have their story.”

I strive and am learning to do all I can to be on good terms with all persons and to respect people’s truths though I may not share them.

And with that understanding from my father, the following are quite poignant, once again

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

 

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

 

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.

 Max Ehrmann 1927

Yes, strive to be happy, despite the all; despite the odds -Strive to be HAPPY.

TO MY DOORSTEP

babyIt’s crazy hearing them again,

Hearing how they screamed and cried, how they begged for life;

It’s tearing seeing them again,

Seeing how they’re smeared off life, and caused to sleep like lice;

It’s disturbing considering again,

This is done with rice, and food we slice and dice;

It’s nerve-racking knowing again

They were not considered better or worthier than mice

It’s heartbreaking imagining again

How another would beg, would hope and really be so nice

For just this beauty wasted about by sons of cowardice

 

I’m wondering if it wouldn’t sound well, their footstep;be

I’m asking the sower and bearer if it was just a misstep;

I’m thinking why not bold up to a counterstep;

I’m pleading; please bring them to my doorstep;

 

THAT’S HOW IT IS…

That's just how it is...

That’s just how it is…

The sun looks beaming, but casts its shadows;

One never knows all why or all for every why

Summing up the bitterness that climbs up each little gut

The envy and the hate, the sense of no way around

And when all these draw nigh and ring; the scream, an ample ding

To yell for help and leave the rest, and expect all’ll be well

 

It comes like the wind, rushing through the door, like angry waves hitting the sand

As though it had done it harm, or caused it pain.

It happens severally; oh the wish to vanish

Or perhaps clone oneself; every you for every it.

Bu this even makes it tougher, as tougher trials stand

They stand in zest, to yank your chest, to put you to the test.

 

Indeed that’s what they are there for, to bring out gold from brass

Who told them that in everything, one ought to make out gold?

Leave the dust, for brown it is, and never could be white

So it is, so it was made, you churn your silent sack

For dust is brown and grass is green, and you are who you are

None is you and you are none, and that’s just how it is

 

It gets so slimy, climbing slime; it gets so rocky, climbing rocks

It gets so prickly, playing with prickles, and cold beneath the ice

It gets so smelly, touching carcass, so dirty with the dung

So un-Santa when the heart leaps out, but jumps back with a bump

Too yellow an earth to stay in, too slimy for the climb

Too achy to get the feet on, the feet upon oneself.

THE EMBER DUST

The ember dust that settles on our ever grumbling lives;

It’s pure, it’s fine, it’s sweet and sound, it makes you come alive!

It is upon no plane or hill, but lies within our being;

From He who knows the end from now, the One; the all-seeing!

 

The ember dust, the one made sound, the firstborn of the dust;

It lived and toiled, went back to dust, bust simply could not rust!

It is within no gold nor dough, but in the human hive;

From when we know we now believe, we make her glow alive!

 

ember 2The ember dust, the glowing alp that knows our Zee from Ey!

It is the plane that plains our pains, it knows the squirmy bay!

It stretches up the high and low, the glow kicks out the grey!

From when it glows, it blows and grows, it glows our everyday!

 

 

TIME TO REVIEW

I often blame the world, but now I know it is my fault

I focused on the go-ahead, and failed to take a halt.

The grass was green, and true it is, the flowers and the trees

But lo, I didn’t get to see the fiery lake and bees.

PRAYER 2

My world, my mind, and all I had, was laid upon my goal

The time to sit and think is gone, and now I’m in the hole.

I’m left but with my body soaked, with still the grass in view

I pray next time I won’t self-cloak, but take time to review.

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2014

For yet another new year

We thank God for the bread

For being there to bear

The weight of our dread.

I wish a very Happy and prosperous 2014 to all and sundry, especially to all my followers on POSITIVE SCRIBBLES, not forgetting those who have once taken off time for a visit, or are still to do so. You were part of making my 2013 a positive one, and I pray 2014 be a very positive one for you as well.

SHALOM!

LOVE IS…

new loveSomeone once said love is what it is. I’m sure you have your own definition of what love is to you. So why don’t you tell us what you think or know it is, and perhaps help someone else understand and appreciate better what that four-letter word means. Let the images inspire you, or let someone else do it.

For Patience Strong,

Lost in time

Lost in time

homely teasures

homely teasures

“Love is more than passing pleasures, love is happiness;

Found in home and homely treasures, that the years would bless”.

 

Happiness

Happiness

For me, LOVE  is LIFE.

For you then, Love is…

NO HARM

It seems the world is going gray, I cannot tell a lie

And if it is, I wish and pray that I and Mine don’t die.

Cuz everyday we sit and think and end up with a cry,

For every water trough we filled just ended up a-dry.

 

He smiled and held my hand and said “My child don’t give a damn

I make the grass to grow and sure I own your every farm.

The water trough you think is dry is only but a balm,

Fear not, He said, I am for you, and none would do you harm“.