Just like a philosopher can never throw away his stone, the poet can never toss his pen out the window
The most valuable thing i have learned in life is to regret nothing.
Somerset Maugham
Hello
And welcome
To my blog.
My name is
Lazarus Shatipamba
And I’m a pensive poet.
The poems
I’ve written
With my left hand
Are almost as good
As the ones
Written with my right.
© 2019 The Poets Peace
A room without books is like a body without a soul.
Marcus Tullius Cicero
Be grateful for.
If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog…
View original post 10 more words
that has not yet, rested since the day i began.
as I’ve been working, harder then a buzzing bee.
for i wanted, to be better as i grew to be a man.
i spent, more time in my father’s den.
comparing things to a growing tree.
since the day i first picked up a pen-
i grew older, and began writing for fun.
using the names, of things the eye could see.
so i b’came, good as i grew to be a man.
i now receive, much praise from the village clan.
saying that their eyes, did…
View original post 130 more words
There once was a man from Windhoek
That had never read a book
Till in the library he set foot
With his unusually big feet.
He left, unable to stand the librarians odd look.
A generous man forgets what he gives and remembers what he receives.
Old Proverb
Ellen Melvin had a problem with his left ear
Which left him unable to hear
Whenever he was near his hearts desire.
This led to the rise of his ire
So he cut it off to have one good ear.
Nothing will work unless you do.
John Wooden
They call it the black and white jungle
For you might not live for very long
Here, were danger lurks in every corner.
Always be ready for a battle
And watch out for dangers in the throng
Of this place they call the black and white jungle.
You will need to be a Grandmaster
Or in the very least, very strong
Here, were dangers lurk in every corner.
Safe, sound and secure in your castle
Is the place you should always belong
Not here in the black and white jungle.
Perhaps one day; when you are older
Looking back at days when you were young
In this place were danger lurks in every corner.
You will see everything clearer
And realise there is nothing wrong
In calling it the black and white jungle.
This place, were dangers lurk in every corner.
The great and glorious masterpiece of humanity is to know how to live with purpose.
Montaigue
Bradley, Brandon and Butlet
Bike beneath bridges
burn't by being bold.
Bradley, Brandon and Butlet
Banter badly,
By the back of black alley.
Bragging brazenly,
Because they
Bonded with blondes.
Boys believing babes
Be the bane to their pain.
Bastards! Busy blessing brothels.
......................................................................................
Bradley, Brandon and Butlet
Brothers, from another mother
Became blue beneath bland weather.
Bradley; became bored
Before bothering bottles.
Bellowing; for beer in bars
Beating bunks, before basking
Blissfully behind brews.
Brandon; broke bones at random.
Brought, back-handed blows to foes
But believed benevolence binds brothers.
Butlet; brushed blushes aside
Braked busses beside bushes
And busted better then before.
...............................................................................................
Bradley, Brandon and Butlet
Breathe by breeding bread.
Bred by bleeding blood
Beware, the banner
Of bad manners.
But be-aware, that these boys
Don't play fair.
........................................................................
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take,
but by the moments that take our breath away.
Anonymous
Did i really,
Dream of you?
Or was it simply
A figment of my fantasy?
Did i really,
Caress your lips with my own?
Did you and i really roam,
These sandy beaches hand in hand?
Did i really?
See you through the moon,
And hoped to see you soon?
Though it was still afternoon
And you'd just left;
Was i right,
To moon over you?
Like a satellite
Hoping you set my life alight.
If indeed i did,
Really dream of you.
Then i pray
That you eclipse my dreams
And sweep me beneath the tide of reality.
Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues,
but the parent of all others.
Cicero
Today
Was neither good
Nor bad.
I woke from bed
feeling slightly sad
that my dream went mad
but was more than glad
That i still fed
From the fruits of this land.
This land, that offers a blend
of mend and bend.
Eyes open to the skies
I see the immense size
Of this dome
Beneath which lies my home.
This unforgiving land
On which grow the trees.
Where one might sail the seven seas
Was never made to keep you on your knees
Nor to please you in your ease.
Try to set sail
And you’ll return to regale-
Us with a tale
That could make the masses wail.
In this land
One needs a strong will
To sail the seven seas
That can easily seize
Your wish to arrive-
Home in one piece.
When the High Seas cease
To appear pleased
That your ease
Was blown away with ease
By a mighty breeze
And the storm conformed
To tread thunder your way
Hoping that you blunder
Your way out of wonder.
This land will make you ponder
Why you decided to wander
Outside of your border.
This land is chaos and order
In no specific order
All geared towards making you stronger.
But what happens when
You’re standing by the stern
With waves ready to condemn
And sharks circling in?
When waves of worry
Wash away visions of glory
And crash against your sure
Seeking to keep you from shore
And to leave you on the sea floor
Drowning in your flaws?
You may feel like throwing in the towel
When the land makes you scowl
As you prowl-
With eyes of an owl
How exactly to keep the ground
Beneath your feet sound.
When the sky rumbles
And the earth trembles.
You’ll find yourself wanting to grumble
And muffle a mumble when you stumble
Upon the bundle
That stayed you from the mantle.
When your hopes fall prey
To the predators that stray
Into the place were we stay
Till way past after we lay
For having a good day.
You’ll find yourself wanting to say
That nothing will ever be okay.
This land is old.
This land is proud.
And also very loud.
It will crowd-
You beneath a cloud
Of your own doubt
So that you might-
Opt to adopt
An attitude of negativity
Towards reality.
This land is a force, it is gravity
That cares not for pretty or witty.
Kind and greedy
Independent or needy
You will fall to its gravity
Because it knows no sympathy.
This land is clay
It will mold-
Your plans for the future
Into a sculpture
That remains unsure
Of its pure nature.
What happens when a forest fire
Leaves your crops dire?
When it raises the level of your ire
Until you tire
Of growing them any higher?
Will your mind sire-
Sentiments that hire
The services of thoughts
That leave you in a mire?
Or will we be left to admire
The will of your desire to inspire.
When dawn decrees the rise
Of your perceived demise
And makes you realize
That what your eyes
See for truth is lies
That leave you wanting a disguise
So you never see the skies.
Will you accumulate dust
When dusk
Tries to bask
In the hardening of your task?
Or will you mask your lust
That from here you want to bust?
What happens when
The lightning lights
Your peaceful night
And sets your dreams in a fright
So that you want to take flight
And just end the fight
Thinking that perhaps the light
Was never ever your right?
When the peaks of Mountains
May seem too far to reach
Coz you’re no longer rich
In mental clarity
And deprived of the physical energy
Needed to keep yourself upright.
And when finally
You sag your shoulders in pain
Falling boulders-
Seeking to crush you in shame
So that you want to blame
The land for your pain.
Know, face with an unknown name
That that pain will one day be the bane
That aids you gain
The STRENGTH to
STAND UP
GO AGAIN
AND WIN THE GAME!
No one can give you better advice than yourself.
Cicero
Hey guys; thanks a milli for visiting my blog and taking the time out to read these figments of my imagination. I know my rhyme schemes are silly and perhaps a little willy but i really appreciate your appreciation for my passion.
In the name of silly things, make me the giddiest poet alive by following, liking and commenting on this joke of a page.
