giving to takers
is a Sisyphean task
~don't be a doormat
TO THE TASK AHEAD FOR OUR WRITERS
No one can write our story but us;
His story merely footnotes us:-
In the culture of the penned word,
We must personally ink ourstory;
Footnoting history’s keloid pains:-
In doing so, the rules must be ours
As opposed to those of anglophobia:-
In our midst, do we not have
Our own Prophets, Scribes, and Seers?
Do we not have our own worthy Griots?
Let us not write for their critics, but for ourselves,
Demonstrating mastery of the enforced language
Through which we must uniquely cipher flowing lines;
Deciphering coded lies from undeniable living truths:-
Can an indigenous fruit be a “native” of one that’s not?
(To the tune of “Jingle Bells”)
Dashing through my tasks,
In a cubicle so tight,
I hear the coffee slosh,
Another deadline fight.
Bells from emails ring,
I can’t ignore the sound,
Oh, what fun it is to sprint
Through tasks that come around!
(Chorus)
Single spells, single spells,
Typing all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to pray
For lunch to save the day—HEY!
Single spells, single spells,
Bosses want it fast,
Why did I say I’d stay this late?
This day will never pass!
A week ago today,
I thought I had it done,
But then the boss exclaimed,
“Redo it, just for fun!”
I clenched my teeth and smiled,
(That’s what professionals do),
Then daydreamed of my holiday
And flights to Timbuktu!
(Chorus)
Single spells, single spells,
Typing all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to pray
For lunch to save the day—HEY!
Single spells, single spells,
Deadlines never end,
Guess I’ll sing this little song
Until my sanity bends!
The Day is not done.
We have a lot of work still left to do.
Grab another breath and I will show you what to do.
Don’t raise your arms and fly away.
There is more left to finish the day.
We always work together side by side.
Even when it means we make the path real wide.
My archangel please tell me it's not so.
I'm so happy here I don’t want to go.
Just one more hour until it turns to night.
With you by me I will never give up the fight.
I promise when you fly me home I will hold you tight.
Thankyou for the day to get this task done right.
When you lay me down to sleep at night.
I will wake again to continue the fight.
I'm wasting words and wasting time
Trying to explain this heart of mine
No easy task to understand
So take my word and take my hand
"Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it. " Quote by Rumi
Seek not the right person
Seek to be made right within
Travel to your soul's depths
See what is wrong, repair
Stay long, search, take deep breaths
Seek not the right person
Pray for help in being right
Search your soul, then love comes
If you love at all times
True love will overcome
Seek not the right person
Learn to give of yourself
Freely share worldly goods
Love others as you should
Stay away from falsehoods
Seek not the right person
Learn to build souls up
Reach down fill empty cups
With kind words each day
Let us all be grownups
Seek not the right person
But right within your soul
Not self-righteous and proud
We can be wonderful
A heart just ploughed and sowed
The jury’s duty is impossible.
They have to decide who is lying.
The defendant says he is innocent.
Police say he is guilty.
Defense lawyer says he was falsely accused.
Points out his ex-wife works for the lab and wants him imprisoned.
Police detectives are leaning on the DNA blood evidence.
Who is lying and how many of them? It is a quandary.
If a task is difficult, tough, laborious and hard.
Give it to a singer, a dancer, a poet, a bard.
Let them change it from troublesome to something fun.
Before you know it, you will be dancing, and the task will be done.
Taken to task by a hot tripwire trap
hitting the ground I fell flat on my face;
My legs were totally frozen in place;
Landmines sat all connected to gift wrap,
charisma always leads to a mishap;
Explosions beneath that feather surface,
taken to task;
I fell down but then I aquired the map,
believe me I too left more than a trace;
I left my mark on this volatile space;
Remember a cornered cat too can slap;
Taken to task.
when we have to ask
what will be our assigned task
go to beach and bask
Every day, I wake up to pray;
To God, to guide my way:
I do this every morning,
Like, over the night, I got a warning.
I talk to him like I do with my father,
And this grows our relationship farther.
This is the sole source of my peace;
For every smile and confidence, every piece;
You may not agree with me unless you give it a try,
And when it seems not to work out, it is not wrong to retry.
I was taught, when I was still a child,
To tell it to Jesus even when the pain is mild;
One day, at church, pastor said that it does not hurt to ask,
So, I pray at dawn, during the day and even at dusk.
For the heavenly goodies, I never stop to search,
And when it is my turn to receive, I get much.
I am not one of these angels of the dark that to you, I should deceive;
So, I guess, today, you have learned more reasons to believe.
Please persist
With poetry,
Though you stand accused
Of wasting precious time
On the silly art of rhyme.
You have a task,
You poets.
Of re-presenting life,
The essence to attain
Thus making real again.
You live for others,
Via poetry.
Watching with all senses,
Hearing with emotions
And feeling through expressions.
You forge a link,
Through poems.
With lilting turn of phrase
And silky sequinned word
You make your reason heard.
You sow a seed
With poems.
So whoever cares to read
The slender lingual links
Will grow as your heart thinks.
You share yourself
In poems.
Laying bare your inner life,
Engaging our humanity
And so voiding your inanity.
You shift our views
With poetry.
Evading common sense
And using verbal dancers
To question all our answers.
So don’t give up
On poetry.
You owe it to yourself
To probe your mind with artistry
And weave your oral tapestry.
Cooking is not a simple chore
In a closed up world of a woman
From purchasing, preparation,cooking
To cleaning up
A one-man-job
But ask for food varieties
Boiling,baking,steaming,roasting
Frying,pickling,seasoning,decorating
And a nutritional balancing
All are not that simple
To please
Not only the tongue
Choosy is the food
Choosy is the work performance
Choosy is the input
Choosy is the output
The so called an outstanding task
Of a simple woman
Waiting to be admired
If not by a man's heart
At least by the taste buds
And the eyes too
Maybe the miser
As there are no sale's tax
And consumer's tax too
Why would one ask,
If the carving of a mask
Is, indeed, a task
When to simply this question ask
Is itself a task?
Mask carvers in their job bask,
Their wine glasses beside a cask,
Their African salad in their flask,
Their own faces a beatific Mask…
Sweet styles of reducing the heat
From a long sitting on a seat,
A surer method of catching ones breath
Man’s enacting of the lion’s stealth.
He never believed in love at first sight!
Spurious hogwash, or so he thought.
Yet he felt a magnetic fascination,
Seeing her alone, sipping a cool exotic drink,
Dressed impeccably in local folklore attire.
He was deeply attracted for she was
The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He felt stirred by emotions supernal,
Like a bee sucking nectar from every glamorous bloom.
Nature unparalleled had a way to provoke him.
Drinking at the bar, what was supposed to be
One for the road, his next air flight.
It was not to be. He cancelled his trip home.
Back at the bar she was not to be seen.
Ah luckless love, what devious tricks it plays
On most poor mortals! Had she not smiled at him?
Pierced his heart, provoked intoxication of love?
In his exalted admiration of her, he vowed:
He would never leave until she's found.
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