Tag: Kids

Killing an army #stopWar

The thunder of petals of metal flying in and out of pallid flesh,
Wading in the arid sand in a throng caught in the enemies mesh
Of flying petals of metal, clouds the air in a rare Tarantino moment
Where Beethoven serenades the splashing of blood, the torment
Of the dying shrouded in the music deafening the ears of those
Waiting to die, while their leaders watch on sad but jocose: 

It’s just war.
It’s just war.
It’s just war. 

I remember how Harry killed an army, and it wasn’t just war to me.
Nor was it to his kids who only look to him in a framed army
Picture of a man they didn’t meet, nor will meet, but whose name floods
Their home, and their mother’s eyes, with his only presence being sods
In a cemetery of white crosses dancing away in the silence of silent souls
Waiting for their Maker’s call to walk, but acclaimed by drum rolls
And gunshots, and eulogies and a flag, and a medal they will never wear,
No more salute, not tear to or be tearfully thankful for, nor hear. 

But Harry killed an army.
Killed a whole army.
YES HE KILLED AN ARMY! I’M TELLING YOU! 

Thronging the streets were strong arms, clenched fists and teeth
Swearing in black, masked, calling God’s name swordless the sheath
Seeking blood to bathe the arid air sweeping up the desert dust
Where rubble hid shrapnel from the bones and bodies it had bust
And Harry crouched to flee, taking in rays from every direction
While the air whispered death to the bullets and their deflection

It was war,
It was war
It was war,

Then the glass showed him even worse than the deplorable showed
In fallen humans, hacked, charred, chaffed as if freshly mowed;
Orphans looking for dad and mum in each others terrified eyes
Hurdled behind the next door to be rammed, basically they were dice
Waiting to be tossed in front of a beaten soldier, dreaming of home
And the pregnant mum of the one he’ll share his wheels chrome
On the sedan he bought but barely drove, the house he repaired
But barely owned as duty called beyond the sea, beyond scared.

But Harry killed an army
Killed a whole army,
With a single bullet…believe it!

With a prayer for his family soothing his parched lips,
And adrenaline rushing through love he knew won’t survive this last trip
He lifted his metal friend, and let out a round of death toward
The raised foot and screaming soldiers (Harry was no coward)
Turned to respond as they dropped one by one, as Harry closed in
Bashed the door in, as the voices turned to his direction, and in
That instant, he took those kids through the back door, through the streets
Bullets leaving him, bullets seeking him, solace seeking many weary feet

It WAS war
All out war
But still war!

The buildings played their part, and Harry knew them well,
And sought their cover, as he moved from junction to junction
Knicks on his face, rushing the kids past the arid but bloody hell
Shouting into his radio, adrenaline rushing in every function
But he knew, Harry (he was no coward), he knew where the journey would end
And the scythe hung over his neck, but his objective was at the next bend.
Revenge like a poison had his assailants blinded and slowly dying
But the bullet straight through his neck came had his spirit flying.

But he kept on
He kept on Harry
He kept on…

The thunder of petals of metal flying in and out of pallid flesh
Wading in the arid sand in a throng caught in the enemies mesh
Faded into the distance as the bullet hole drained his life fluid
But he saw his comrades as he let few more bullets, that druid,
And as the kids, crossed the secret camp gates, and Harry hit the ground
The snipers had a field day. He will not hear of the number of rounds
That ended the assault on him and the kids. He will not hear the praise
The thanks. He would not consider that his trap ended most of the frays.
His spirit slowly ebbed away, and the enemy fell, regretting that bullet,
That revenge they sought. Harry was no coward! He stood up to change a bit
But changed the war, getting in death’s way to extend the lives of those kids.

It was war,
But Harry kept on,
Yes, Harry killed an army…with one bullet!

(c) nyonglema

 

 

Across the bridge #Soweto #Sharpeville

                                        RIP to the fallen but: Non sine causa mortis. -Nyonglema

Why didn’t the police throw flowers instead,
As our Master recommends when your cheek gets beat
And you need to turn the other side of your head
In a Stephen forgiveness prayer in the battle heat?

See the children crying the tears of the future
They wished they had, fighting for generations to come
To see freedom and more, to dream of more than manure
And dung, to aim to the sky, but just that you stay calm

And listen. Why didn’t they throw flowers instead
Of gas to rose-prick the eyes, and blows to nose-bleed
Innocence, fighting back with stones, staring scared
But not afraid to give, give, give and sow this seed

Which was to be sown not in blood blood bloodshed?
Why let those lethal tubes let lead lash out
At Ndlovu, Hector, more, while others ducked, the floor red,
Life floating around clothed flesh wide-eyed open mouths.

See….see the children crying the tears of the future
Dreamed, which the next generation finally received,
And smile the smile of 100 years, sitting on pure
Bliss on a porch, like watching your eldest getting free.

(c) Nyonglema

Limericks #Wiriting201 #robinhood #birthday #monster

Robin Hood

You say my sword, arrows, arc have skinned your pouch to the bark
And all your sorrows are fruit of schemes of my men, so hark:
You claim I’m the worst of the lot,
Well I tell you, sir, I’m Not-
Tingham’s worst fellow, and I’m proud o’ the remark!

My birthday

Today’s the day I first breathed, first saw the sunlight,
And I’m moping unlike a birthday person might,
For all have forgotten my bday
And sad, I get home …then “heeey!”
“Surprise” screams at me from a cake crowned with candlelight.

Monsters under my bed
I know I shouldn’t be scared right now as the lights are off
But I know too that they are only scared when the dark is off
And once the switch has gone
The other way, they are prone
To start jumping at me from under the bed and make life rough.


(c) Nyonglema

Sleep Wars #bedtime #tantrums #kids

It’s 8pm again, and by my clock it’s time to shut eyes and dream loud

But, by the clock of who run this place, it’s not that time yet…no not yet

The butterflies have called a meeting with snails in a crowd

While the legos still have to drive up the air to the mountains

And the ideas keep flowing out their youthful fountains


And then everything is a reason to complain in shrill air waves

And contort when grasped, then toss the toys to care’s arms

And while we count on Reason to make them behave

We are at war with forces beyond our deepest understanding

Kids who feel it’s not time yet to go to the land of dreaming


(c) Nyonglema

After meals #kidsEnergy #Energiser

When energy has been injected into the atom,
The electrons start jumping from level to level.
In the case of kids, that’s table to table,
And round the whole space, making mum
Wail inside with the noise, while dad cringes
Each time they miss a dangerous fall by inches.

(c) Nyonglema

Whispers in the Night #supportWidows #supportWidowers

This is a poem I submitted as a submission to a competition on Poetry Soup. The idea was to write lyrics to the instrumental Life story by Peter White. Maybe you’ll hear me sing to this soon :-). But you go ahead, have some fun with the words, and share to your friends. Who knows, this could be your The Voice moment.


Whispers in the night, longing for your ears
To drown every fear
But the sorrow sleeps with me tonight.


Whispers in the night, saying a bitter prayer,
Gone the summer cheer,
Only cold snow fills me deep inside.


Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared;
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.


Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.


Whispers in the night, saying our favorite prayers
Seeing you everywhere
Your smell still lives painfully in this house


Whispers in the night: “Oh why not a few more years?”
Still so much to share!
Nobody to hug and care for life!


Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.


Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.


(c) Nyonglema

New Life

Hiding in mummy’s tummy, kicking happily away
I’m kissing you warmly, clapping and singing in play
They say in a few weeks
I’ll be able to kiss  your new cheeks
I can’t wait for the morning I’ll lift you in a sway

(c) Nyonglema

A DULL THREE aka Adultery

This is a real story by the way….

Love lived in the hearts of Him and Her,
But distance shrouded fear over Her
And to punish Her reluctance
He gave another girl a chance
And she brought triplets nine months later.

WHERE ARE YOU (PEACE) (2007)

Trudging amidst littered corpses resulting from fatal blood baths,

I asked myself in the middle of one wade: did Peace walk this path?

Did she, in her crystal beauty pause to hold conversation?

No! If she did I won’t be knee deep in human body parts!

 

Then I thought me, maybe she’s off to walk the holy paths

Wherein many kneel to walk closer to He who in Heaven art.

But the squabbling and quarrelling as each said his was the right one,

Made it clear she’d surely set off stealthily amidst their word darts.

 

Certainly, I told my weary self, she’d be found in family hearths.

But lo, the father scolds, the kids into devils moult, and that

Mother weeps, heart pierced by innumerable despicable horrors.

Poor me, I thought the quest past, but I must now restart.

 

Oh dear me! I’d forgotten those tender things she could fancy, children’s hearts!

What more jolly and jovially innocent? So at the door I knocked and dropped my hat

And then dropped my jaw, as all sorts of abuses walked the place.

I ran off discouraged , my energy spent. I lay on a mat.

 

Maybe what I have so sought was here in my heart?

I say to myself with confidence. But amidst my silent fights

Between right and wrong, the conscience bites and cloudy darkness

I knew for sure, I’d never see that fine lass.

 

(c) Nyonglema Pisoh