To bully the other to commit to something
Or humiliate them to instant submission.
REMINDER
I may be a century in age
But I am still Mom
And Mom always knows best.
You may be of golden or diamond jubilee
But to my eyes you are still that child
I nursed from nothing.
Don’t take me wrong
For children never grow in the eyes of Mom
And Mom still knows best.
I may not be wiping your nose anymore
For you might be doing it to me instead
But you are still a child to Mom.
You may be well learned
Compared to Mom,
But Mom still has invaluable insight.
It’s the nature of life and nothing can change it.
Your turn will come and you’ll feel the same
For nature stated so since days of yore.
CONTINUOUS INSPIRATION
I am an artist by day
And by night I dream art.
Fellow artists inspire me to do more and
I thus get invigorated and ready to go.
A singer’s emotions give me a kick
To play my part.
A painter’s details
Tickle me to do something.
An actor’s versatility
Sends me thinking.
A designer’s product
Is a marvel to my eyes.
An innovator’s ingenuity
Makes me feel halfway.
A craftsman’s finished work
Causes joy to my heart.
However hard I try to remain idle
It doesn’t work for me.
The urge is in deep
And I just can’t ignore it.
My pen does it for me
But I still thirst to accomplish more.
Writing gives me adrenalin rush
And that is my dope.
LITERACY AND IGNORANCE
Casting a ballot was a right.
One got a national identification
And a voter’s registration card
For a particular polling station.
Schemes sprung up among parties
That killed democracy to the core.
Agents emerged and pounced
On unsuspecting voters on D-day,
With conning to go with it.
Not knowing how to read and write
Became very dangerous
For one’s vote was in jeopardy.
Paid agents
Bullied illiterate voters
As allies held their hands
And they were made to X names
On pictures they did not like
Choosing them over who
They wished to vote for.
What a sad day that was and still is!
Back home they boasted
How they eliminated so and so
Only to be told that
They actually backed
The wrong horses.
Agents had given them
Two pounds of sugar or meat each
To beguile them, as a thank you gift
For exercising constitutional right.
What a world we live in!
COLOR BAR
Desperate to get things cheaply
In a designated store
Shifa rushes there every Saturday
When she is off duty.
Shifa has shopped here for five years
And she knows the cashiers by looks and name tags
Yet, she's asked to show her picture identification
Every time, to prove she owns her credit card.
Her fellow privileged shoppers on the line
Go Scot-free without the infamous question
Except those created like her or
Another color of minority.
One shocked privileged observer saw it all
And when his turn to pay came, asked
If he was required to produce the same
And the answer was thro’ a head shake
That said it all and when he asked why,
There was no answer because
Shifa was still packing her wares
And she would hear the negativity.
This prejudice is unjustified,
Demeaning, inaccurate and bothersome.
This image of her you create in your mind,
Is only in your imagination.
THE LONG AWAITED LETTER
One hot Saturday afternoon, the dreaded letter arrived
To spell doom on the expectant whose inner selves
Had shrank overtime to a point of being painless
As it was no harbinger of first foul news
For a few others had preceded.
All the same, opening it was no merry making as
All limbs trembled and the temperature rose.
Even deep breaths couldn’t hold one still
For the heart throbbed uncontrollably
And resurrection was impossible.
The contents were short and to the point
For it gave little room for maneuvering.
Fate was determined negatively and
Action was swift and appropriate
As pitfalls hang precariously.
MIND RECOVERY PORT
They come broken, frail and disgraced.
They come with no dignity
as they have no self-reliance capabilities.
They come isolated, afraid and timid
to start a fresh in this new land.
UHHR, a trauma haven comes in handy;
welcomes, rehabilitates, provides therapy
and many more endlessly facilities
gain self-control and learn to face life again.
This is a sanctuary for sobs, moans and wails
depending on individual state of psyche
for their pain is right underneath the surface
and relived every time they tell their ugly stories
or a reminder of sorts comes around
and will live with them
so long as they are above the ground
as it is only possible to heal slowly
but not forget.
Rehabilitation helps them pick up the pieces
to enable them get involved in cultural activities:
creativity, art, dance, song, play, cuisine and dressing.
Some become volunteers, translators;
others teach would be visitors to their former nations
their national languages or mother tongues.
They learn English language if they don’t know it
in order to get immersed in the new communities.
They train, get employed and gain their dignity back.
A shoulder to cry on is the staff of this institution
without shading a tear however sad or bad
for if the therapists become vulnerable
then who would console who!
The pains vary from physical to mental or both
and attention is to all regardless of weightiness
for ignoring is haunting and devastating.
They sign for the jobs as a calling
knowing how patient they must be
lest they become failures to the wounds
gaping at them every day they report on duty.
Moral support to court they provide
and arrangements to medical care they make
for they deal with people who know no direction
in this new home of development
as most emanate from less advancement
and with language barriers
the problems become compounded.
POOR TREE PLANTING
It’s no wonder that huge trees fall unexpectedly
Due to windy situa
tions or rough weather
All over this developed part of the world.
I have noted with concern on television
When experts are busy planting trees
Near buildings and anywhere else.
The size of the seedlings appear
Too big for transplanting
And the permanent holes look too shallow.
The roots get no chance to form deep down,
To create base and hold the fort;
They simply remain lateral and weak
When Mother Nature makes a rough call,
Trees simply come tumbling down
As the centers, cannot hold.
Structures, vehicles and other items get destroyed;
People are killed, injured, maimed
And the process continues over and over.
CALAMITIES
Developed nations have the capacity
To warn their own of coming calamities
In order for them to move to safe havens
And sometimes with relocation assistance in
Transportation, accommodation and sustenance,
But stubborn beings refuse to obey the know
And decide to remain in their quarters
As if they are above Mother Nature’s
Destructive mannerisms.
One can’t compete with calamities
Like tsunamis, floods, landslides, fires,
Tornadoes, hurricanes and whatever else.
This land is vast; one can shift to other areas
And start anew instead of insisting of going back,
To rebuild yet history keeps on repeating itself.
Even if you moved and nothing happened
Doesn’t mean you’ll be spared again
The coming season or another.
It’s merely gambling with life
Yet somebody isn’t a rock and even
Rocks get eroded through weathering.
TECHNOLOGY AND MAN
Creation provided no technology
But gave enough know how
For life to be viable;
Man’s desire for more and more
To enable him live luxuriously and lazily
Has made him invent danger.
Through the technology he so loves,
Guns are used on each other while
Trains, cars, ships, planes et cetera kill people.
Sometimes, people wishing to commit suicide
Use transport systems above
To finish the job under disguise of accidents.
ICE RAIN
Thursday, January twenty fourth, twenty thirteen
Is a day I’ll always remember!
The day it rained frozen water,
Folks woke up to a strange phenomenon,
Not familiar to many.
With piles of snow on the ground
From previous storms,
One would have thought it was black ice,
But far from it.
Cleared slabs at entrances, pathways and roads
Looked like greased trays ready for baking.
It was impossible to walk while looking up
For eyes had to scan the ground.
Soles of shoes one wore didn't matter
For shoe grips held no ground
As it was spinning and slipping all along
With skating and sliding.
Babies in first few months of walk or
Centenarians, move faster.
It was gliding and skimming the ground
Besides slinking and sliding.
We did the dance of tiptoeing and slumping
And serenaded the ground with our bodies
As our voices cried foul, but
Continued daylong skidding and sliding
In the end, many were injured
And some hospitalized
With broken ribs, joints, arms, legs
And sprains all over the battered bodies