Ode to Death

There is no passion to be found in playing small – in settling for a life that is less then the one you are capable of living.

like an assassin, will you creep up on me in stealth?
when my lungs have run out of breath. Oh death! Oh death!
when the black wires on my head have turned to grey
and my bones have not the strength to face the day.
will you come and sweep me off my feet, like a broom?
into the glad gloom of an everlasting doom.
or will you simply strike me down like the lightning?
even before my adult years reach an ending.

Oh death! Oh death! i know the vas of my body
will decay with time. but please let it not be today.

Oh death! Oh death! whatever shall happen to my mind?
when my warm and pulsing body it fails to find.
will it wander around, a lost child in distress?
looking for the guidance of one who’s a compass
to point north in the direction of salvation.
or will it find a homey accommodation?
within the grand walls of the universal mind
that controls everything from the blowing wind
to the growing greenery that sprouts from the earth.
do not let my mind wander around. Oh death! Oh death!

when my psyche has reunited with the universal mind
and the vessel of my body is in the ground.
will the human essence of my being remain whole?
Oh death! Oh death! will the cradle of my life, my soul
be born again into another lifetime?
or will it too, suffer the effects of an eternal death?

© The Poets Peace 2019 – Lazarus Shatipamba

Ivette to the vet

There isn’t enough darkness in the world to snuff out the light of one candle.

Ivette Ivette Ivette Ivette
You who went with your pet to the vet
Even tho twas raining and you got wet
Together with your pet.

Oh! Ivette Ivette Ivette Ivette
Twas night when out of bed you climbed
Got dressed and from the sitting room grabbed your pet
(Who many mouths have described as a rat)
From the mat.

Oh! Ivette Ivette Ivette Ivette
Who went to the vet with your pet rat
To collect the debt owed you
On a bet made concerning bats.

Why have you not come back yet?

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Mother of Four (An Ode To My Mother)

Happiness doesn’t depend on who you are or what you have, it depends solely on what you think.

Dale Carnegie

Hard life you lead but still you give,
Not just to those you gave birth to.
But also to those have no clue,
How to in your tender womb live.

Oh! Mother of four-
There in my greatest hour of need.
To my hungry, empty tummy feed
Something yummy and not so sour-

That it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Oh! Mother of four : three girls and a boy
That have grown into adults from their youth.
Though you bought me not many a play toy-

In my younger years, I shed bitter tears
When I felt the pain of my many scars
Which like cop you came to lock behind bars
Just so I would not suffer from my fears.

Oh! Mother of four : three girls and a boy.
Though you bought me not many a play toy-
Know i love thee for giving me much joy!

© 2019 The Poets Peace

An Ode to My Muse

You are the only problem you will ever have and you are the only solution.

Bob Proctor

When my creativity wears a noose
Around his neck I pray to you, Oh Muse!
Who since ages long ago played your lyre
To inspire poets to write satire.

You who artists describe with much fondness,
And is known by many as a Goddess-
Blessed with an incomparable beauty
Though they saw you not in reality.

Oh Muse! Hear the sweet cries of a poet
Who in the night, and the day wants to flirt
With you for you shot him with an arrow
Laced with love that was released from your bow.

He finds himself wishing that one day you’ll-

Sing to him. Oh Muse! Of the mighty men
Who in their fathers den picked up a pen,
To write the poems you wish them create
Wielding the forces you give them to aid-
In composing what could never be said,
Only felt within them it made them glad.

Never saw you. You and I never spoke
But when the time came for me to invoke
Your talent, you walked straight into my heart
To help me in crafting beautiful art-
So I know you’ll always come when I call
Even if I’m trapped behind a stone wall.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

An Ode to Meditation

Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.

Benjamin Franklin

I sat, cross-legged like a monk
Preparing for his session
Of mindful meditation
In the comfort of the park.

I begin to close my eyes
Whilst bringing focus to breath
Of body, and that of earth
Out of which grow the lotus.

Deeply, i start to inhale
Gathering all the tension
In my lungs till retention
Of air i fail, so exhale.

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Oh meditation! the guide
Into the realms of my soul,
Teaching me better control
Of my emotional state.

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Oh meditation!

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Are you aware how i feel
When my thoughts begin to clear
And i start to lose all fear,
Being tuned into what is real?

Oh meditation! I feel;
The light breeze cooling my skin,
The warmth of rays from the sun,
That my scars begin to heal.

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I sat, cross-legged like a monk
By the ocean at sunset.
Waves crashing into feet
That are accustomed to walk.

With a mantra in my mind
And strong intent from my heart
I loudly begin to chant
To the rhythm of the west wind,

That blows distant sounds my way.

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Oh meditation!

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You blessed me with the present
Of practicing my presence
So i could grasp the essence
Of the now present moment.

Oh meditation! my thanks
For opening my chakras
And for reducing my stress
Levels from more to less.

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© 2019 The Poets Peace 

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A Prayer

O Thou, 
who's beauty be comparable to none.

I pray in hope you grace me with thy presence
For ever since you left, my heart is a desolate one;
For it has taken to hiding behind a fence
So as not to take offence
When thy love i cannot sense.

Has Heaven from me stripped her favour
That i no longer revel in thy splendour?

If indeed it be so,
Then truly i drown in sorrow
And look not well upon the morrow
For in it, you i never saw.

If indeed it be false
Then to me return, despite all else
And once again witness, the rise of my pulse
When you enter our house
And within me arouse
The desire to make you my spouse.

Oh, My Love;
Who's beauty be comparable to none.

I pray all else turns out right
So to me you return at once
For ever since you left
My heart is a desolate one.



Nothing is stronger than habit.

Ovid