Tag Archives: Poems

The Reverse Has Flown Down To The Seas


Down the hills on the river that flows, a poem lies there, and whatever
That soul of mine reminds me of the lost wanderer
of my thoughts, of the grand memories of my time
with the night-wind, the trees and their lonely presence;
where the sun would rise to the sky now and then.
For the wise said the soul of men will never fall asleep.
And I believe it even now that they fly to the skies often
To meet the Divine and the dearie’s,
And more than the dense forests the secrets they hold may be greater;
And they feed on food from the Heavens.
In my own heart and all my day awake
I see you, as a man born in a fantasy world
Where stones flew; the spirits in a never ending smile
In trees and seas you live, and white clouds..
There the master of many floats.

Your thoughts, cometh through the clouds into the street and beyond,
and I read it as it sets sail
and with a belief that it will never be wrong.
So addictive, the shapes thee maketh for me,
But at weird hours I hear the strange sound of thy hands,
Keep the pace, shall say that little spirit of mine for the fire keeps glowing
And I keep believing.

I will not be lessened amidst the tall and glittering worldly things.
And you all see in me the dying days, the youthful yesterday – the reverse.
She was a menace, you say-
When I walked the thorns, I entered a light, a lovely place to fly and rejoice.


Letting Go…!

Shadows of agonies
blunt and frozen
in icy-memories
Espousal’s the dusk
not to bewail of sunflowers falling
rather a celebration of blooming of water lilies
upon the dawn of moon
to kiss infinite stars on the sky.

You may write it down in the history
as some bohemian’s rhapsody.
Oh oh! Thy fellow being
It’s not just, just prosody
It’s the Buddha Poornima
Day of emancipation from all illusions
Beacon of enlightenment
Under the Bodhi tree
When the young Siddhartha
Was deeply moved
After seeing the four passing sights
It’s the concept of acquiescence
to unfold the truth, to unwrap life
of living a moment fully.

Letting go is the divine flow
Of the rivulet called life
For go ego, jealousy, hatred and all sufferings
Nurture and nourish the saplings and seeds
Of love, peace and joy.
Letting go means to be chivalry
With time, nature and with all beings
to flow with the flow simply
like a serene brook in its own rhythm.

Invictus

From ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Carrying lantern in the darkest of night

Diffusing swirls of coriolis and vortex

On the way of pulchritudinous soul

The invincible soul speaks of thy glory

Of thousand splendid suns

Of infinite universes

Least knowing the concept of Darwinism or Lamarckism

Ready to write, re-write destiny

Profusely on the sky

As an euphoric playing some jazz’s

rejoicing every inhale-exhale of breath

Ruminating and reflecting the moment’s momentum

The spirit is high on swing

managing all turmoil’s ,tragedies and tantrums

believing in the power of secrets, beyond the secrets

The’ invictus’ warrior make’s a self promise

After ramification upon the majestic sea

Sea that is sycophantic

Bolstering of its own unfathomable depth

But who knows the unquenched thirst

Every drop screams off

Yet every drop lives in compassion

as though if gulping the ecstasy of divinity

And the immaculate soul smirks

To live and to live

, Again and again…

With every breath

                                                           © 2015 by Maaya Dev

A World Without Poetry

A world without poetry,
The concrete hammering of mails
The infusion of programmed chores
A day, yet another day shedding it’s leaf
In parched, scheduled coldness.

Collective tangling of prosaic voices
Barbecue in the summer heat,
Disjointed company of drunk folks
Stinking of the corporate fumes.

Shattered raindrops, where do I hide you
In the luscious spread of weekend delicacies?
The shrieking yells of perfumed bodies,
The flashy make-up of the powdered night
Hides you like submissive dirt.

The deep chasm of naked arms bleed
My unwritten lines buried under
The daily litany of unanswered applications,
Unsolicited proposals, boxed and sealed
Never caring for a reply, a nod, an assaurance.

A world without poetry dies and lives
Every day, crafty, stoic, plastered,
Waking in hopes of a startling twist
Of a delicate, lyrical opulence.

To Those Who Sit In Dark Places

To Those Who Sit In Dark Places

To those who sit and dark places,
To plot the downfall of the just.
To those who gather with hidden faces,
To cause nothing to the righteous but a fall.
Posterity says it has not slept or forgotten;
Nemesis has just one message: “I am coming.”

To those who sit in high places,
Looting and stealing collective resources without care.
To those who fight and leave in their wake broken maces,
And promise to wreak more havoc without fear.
The law of ’cause and effect’ says: “I am still active,”
The grave says: “Inside me is where you’ll live.”

To those who gather in religion’s name,
To destroy, maim and kill.
To those who deceive the people with clause and phrase,
To keep them perpetually in need.
Scripture says: “The triumph of the wicked is not for long,”
Life says: “Remember Abacha and return.”

James Ogunjimi
Ogun State, Nigeria
March 2014

Chained Tongues, Imprisoned Minds

Chained tongues, imprisoned minds,
People who have lived their lives their humanity trying to find,
People who would rather give up than stand up and fight,
People who have lived too long in darkness they can’t see the light.

Chained tongues, imprisoned minds,
Birds of a feather; they’re one of a kind,
Burdened with problems, living daily in fright,
Freedom seems now distant, there’s no hope in sight.

Chained tongues, imprisoned minds,
In rudderless ship, the blind leading the blind,
What else will unite us if not our plight?
When will we understand that in unity lies our might?

James Ogunjimi

Public Servants

If This Is My LastPoem: Public Servants

We call them public servants,

They are meant to tend our lands,

But it’s here that the servants eat and are fat,

While their masters look lean and sad.

 

We asked for food, we asked for shelter,

We asked our servants to make our lives better,

But rather than give us meat they threw to us bones,

Their only answer to our requests is NO.

 

For how long can the masters bear the insolence of the public servants?

Will the time ever come when the masters will take their stand?

It does not have to be tomorrow or a later date,

The first step to freedom can be taken today.

 

James Ogunjimi

Ogun State, Nigeria

February 2014

Monsoon Blues Again

Once I wanted to die in the rain,
But today, I stare out the window
And no such beautiful pain
Touches my heart, no such tow…

Despite the emptiness in my chest,
The earth drinks her share,
Leaves me to listen, but no zest
Dares me, like I’ve not a care…

Now pain defines its own absence,
And how much I miss what showered
When pain coupled with elegance,
While hurts towered, poems flowered…