Commonword Blogs

Its like someone switched on the light recently and I've been going over some poems and working them so i came up with this oral thoughts, so what do you think? am i a listening student or should i hot foot it out of the house?

WEEDS IN MINE HUSBAND'S STRENGHT

Mo le jo l’ori oko mi o
Mo le jo l’ori oko mi
G’oko mi gbami l’aye o
Mo le jo (2) l’ori oko mi
G’oko mi gbami l’aye
K’ori ope!

My husband’s strength is an Italian tower
Tall, proud, standing
Leaning a bit to the left
Still magnificent in every way

My husband’s strength is an oak tree
Brown, thick, jutting high
Weathered a bit from over the years
Still lordly in circumspect

Mo le jo l’ori oko mi o
Mo le jo l’ori oko mi
G’oko mi gbami l’aye o
Mo le jo (2) l’ori oko mi
G’oko mi gbami l’aye
K’ori ope!

My husband’s strength is a prickly shrub
Closely knitted, wiry, not right
Tend the weeds, the weeds tend, husband mine!
Mine husband is too proud to call
The gardener to his patch
The weeds grow fast; fast grow the weeds
Mine husband is ill
The gardener struggles to tend his patch

My husband’s strength is the dying grass
Dry, lifeless, dying
My husband’s strength is weak
The gardener packs up his shears
There is nothing to tend.

Mo le jo l’ori oko mi o
Mo le jo l’ori oko mi
G’oko mi gbami l’aye o
Mo le jo (2) l’ori oko mi
G’oko mi gbami l’aye
K’ori ope!

MA WO'LE

Hurried feet to the house of plenty

The provider of plenty dies.

We see no one.

The straggling visitor, we

welcomed with open arms has

followed his steps.

Better, the morsels at the provider's feet than

the platefuls from supplanters.

We tried to be better than our legacy, but

who are we to question our heritage?

Delightful one, they say your hands

held the knife that slaughtered

your throat

Even so, you shouldn't have died that way.

How were we to know, that our dreams are

the harbingers of death? So,

walk that road, slowly, with caution, for

we never sent you there.

If it frightens you, turn round and return!

You may come as you wish.

Either to me or the other who loved you more.

Never stay cowering in the cold

For you are wanted here.

Very much wanted here.

FROG

The long throated one
thinks his greed is a show of wealth!
Ha! Bloated frog that burps the loudest
some flies are not for eating!
Didn’t anyone ever tell you
amidst your gloating colony
where you preen.
The praying mantis is no saint
he is just saying grace.
Beware, soul relative
the very melodies you lull yourself to sleep with
could be the dirge that precedes you
to the waking call
softly roll your eyes around that table.
The wise ones say;
it is not every bug that the frog swallows
sometimes
strange but true
sometimes, he closes his bulging eyes
and prays that grace passes him by

ACHILLES

Hey
my message is for the bald headed eagle
Tell him, vultures, ready for the picking
Tell him to fly high
Till the sun dries his brain
though the road of the lioness is long
she is strong
Hee ya!
My song is for the long necked vulture
Tell him, sweet doves, of innocence
Tell him to eat well
To eat till he swells up
the hunger of the lioness is not picky and
she has strong jaws
Hey! heeya!
My tale is for the sweet dove
Tell her, you masters of the air
Tell her to listen hard
the heart of the lioness leaks her song
her song is truth.