‘Oh Ear’ a Sonnet

When your body moves, your brain grooves.

Jim Kwik

Well hello there friend. How are you doing today? Very well I hope.

Thanks for stopping by, your presence here always fills me with gratitude.

This year, I shed a tear not only in honor of those who lost their lives to the global pandemic that’s taken the world by storm, but also for all those times I missed out on blogging.

I won’t beat myself up too much for not blogging as much as wanted to, instead I’ll prime myself to be a better blogger next year.

It is exactly because I haven’t been blogging consistently, however, that I’m really appreciative for the fact that my blog has kept on growing.

It is because of people like you who take time out to visit even when I’m not here. For that, I wish you all the best for the coming new year.

For today, I will be sharing a sonnet I composed recently in the hope that it enhances your day in any way whatsoever. If it does don’t be shy to let me know in the comment section, I’m always happy to hear from you.

So without further adue…

Oh Ear!’ how happy I am you are here.
I know you’ve been by my side my whole life,
But before I could never see you clear,
So I’d not know if you could hear my voice.
But now that I can see you I can say
That without you my life would have been dull.
I don’t know without you beside my skull
If I’d even be able to dance for joy.
In fact, I’m not sure I want to find out.
I can’t imagine my life without you.
A life where to listen I have no clue
Will surely lead me to kick the bucket
For life’s a song and it demands dancing
But I can’t dance if I’m not listening.

To a Lady whose Heart is not Beautiful

Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.

Henry Ford

To you, my lovely long-legged lady.

Who makes all men, to you want to come near;

For your eyes are green and your hair’s sandy.

Making many a dandy shed a tear,

Because they want to talk to you, but fear

To awaken the monster within you.

Even though they know, how to fight with spear

Against those who want to give them the flu.

Do you sometimes wish, you had a clue

How to turn your inner world into Art

That will make sure everyone is not blue?

If so, then please do open up your heart

So that your much admired outer beauty

Will be congruent with your personality.

© Lazarus Shatipamba 2021

The Poets Peace

Buy me a pen and paper?

A Good Samaritan

Don’t let yesterday – take up too much of today.


Shall i thank thee for being good to me?
When times were tough and most men were quite rough
In stuffing ideas of who i should be
Down my throat so that i will want to cough.
When times were tough – like a desert in drought
The oasis of my dreams started to dry
Up faster then a speeding car on route
To clinic for there’s an emergency. –
You were good to me like the men that bring
Items of aid to the victims of war,
So i know in this poem, that’s the one thing
I will have to thank thee deeply for, for
You were to me a good Samaritan
That warmed my life, better than summer can.

© 2019 The Poets Peace


Sonnet #4

Being strong means rejoicing in who you are, complete with imperfections

Margaret Woodhouse

Pen to paper

one day, a mistress not in distress-
in her fine red dress, walked down the road.
to address the man that made her glad-
was robbed by men and left in distress.

she cried out for help, but no ear heard.
the cries of a damsel in distress.
when lesser men robbed her of her dress.
and left her nude in the winter cold.

when the man’s lady came not on time.
he got scared and set out to find her.
but after some time searching, lost hope.
of ever finding his dame alive.

until a sound, crept into his ear.
and led him to her, dressed in her shame.

Lazarus Shatipamba is a wormy bookworm that rarely ever sees the sun(except through the eyes of many a fictional character). His days are mostly spent stuck between the pages of a good book.
When he isn’t busy gathering dust in…

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sonnet #3

Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.

Arthur Ashe
For forty years i felt the beating of my heart.
The rhythm of which i compared to a broken drum.
Till in my life you came and made it start to dart.
Like strings from a harp when the bard makes them thrum.

The music it makes, makes me want to sing.
Along to the song that you inspired with your love.
A song fit for the ears of many a queen 'nd king.
As well as the halls of GOD's in the sky above.

For forty years i felt the beating of my heart.
And i knew not whether it would be made to dance.
A merry jig the masses would consider Art.
Or one that would make many want to shift their glance.

For forty years i felt the beating of my heart.
Which before you came, was clearly being torn apart.

© 2020 The Poets Peace

Garden of Beauty


Walk with me, into the garden of beauty
And smell the sweet scent of flowers in the air
When the way roses sway take thy breath away
And leaves the mouths of many men ajar.

With daisies, basking in the warmth of the sun
Making light of thy intent to sit in shade
And in thy mind; image thyself having fun
That was in the midst of the heavens forbade.

Tread carefully among these thorny weeds
That with their stink, surely make thy eyes weep
So that thine tears, bring hope to the growing seeds
Of misdeeds that thy mind was tasked to safe keep.

     As thou was once thyself a seed that did grow,
    So too, will thee reap the fruits of what you sow.

He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.

Epictetus

A Dream of Spring

Image by 【中文ID】愚木混株 【ins-ID】cdd20 from Pixabay
Shall i, compare thee to a dream of Spring?
For when i entered a state of slumber
My melancholy mood, began blooming
Into a mood, that brought fourth its flower.
Thou art more sweeter than a buzzing bee.
A conquerer; more regal than a queen.
Pollinating my sadness into glee.
Turning the dry desert , of my heart green.
Of you, the very air must be jealous.
Scent from heaven; thou aroma will lure
Many men to come your way and make fuss.
In illness, hoping you will be their cure.
But alas; i awoke from my slumber
Feeling cold from the bold bitter winter.


When anger rises, think of consequences.

Confucius