Philosophy of Life · Poetry/Poems

Get OUT of My Bed! You’re Such A Poor Lover!

Poetry, Depression, Peace, Harmony, Life, Balance

 

Depression wants to sleep with me tonight
but I ain’t having none of that!

I told him that I don’t cheat on Peace
‘cos he brings me Joy, Harmony, Balance
and lots of untold goodies.

I told him that he’s such a poor lover
who leaves me all wound up,
empty and downcast.

That our tumultuous relationship
has me faking orgasmic satisfaction
and that has simply been a lie.

I kicked him out into the cold night
and wedged the door tight with a chair under the lock.

He sulked and begged and cajoled to be let back in
he even promised to be more gentle in his loving
but I ain’t having none of that.

I have listened to his sleek lies in the past
when he used me and put up his feet by the fireplace
having a good smoke while I cried my eye’s raw and my heart bled.

I told him that he’s a Baboon
and he’s not going to get more handsome soon.

His spots are embedded in his thick skin and
can’t be washed off with soap.

I quickly called Peace on speed dial though it was late,
even the birds had gone to roost
but I had to so as not to cave into Depressions whiny voice.

Knowing Peace, he’s such a good guy
he answered once he saw my repeated calls.

He called his companions
Joy, Harmony, Love, Hope, Faith, Music, Laughter…
and they all came along.

They played and danced in my living room all night long whilst
I had a goodnight’s rest in the desired arms of Peace.

©  Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Poetry/Poems

The Sound of Silence…

Solitude, Divine, Silence, Thinking, Poetry, A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales

Divine is the sound of silence

actively, I seek solitude

to hear myself think.

©

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Poetry/Poems

Taking It All…

Image result for images of reaching for the star

You told me to reach for

a star,

I stretched and took

the entire galaxy.

©

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Poetry/Poems

The Dying Cries of Men…

History, Wars, Conflict, Cannons, Dying Men

My son, sit beside me and hear my tales

though my eyes are rheumy with age

it is said that age brings sage.

I hear the echoes of booming cannons

we fought these wars

we won by blood

yet victory rings hollow

‘cos I still hear with sorrow

the dying cries of men

who went before their tomorrow.

©

Jacqueline

Poetry/Poems

Alternative Facts…

Related image

My brain states one fact,

while my body states a different one,

but you know what?

I’m going to go with my brain,

and simply take my body along.

©

Jacqueline

Check out my YouTube channel 

Poetry/Poems

You Don’t Smell Good…

Quit Judging, Quotes

I have no patience
for those who spend
a better part of their time
judging and labelling others.

You’ve never worn
the other man’s shoes,
how exactly do you know
how undersized and pinching they are?

Quit being obtuse
You don’t smell like roses yourself.
If we look hard enough, I bet
there’s are loads of manure in your garden.

Tend to your own garden
called your life.
Concentrate on being the best you
that you can be.

Concentrate on being a supportive anchor
for someone who might be adrift,
but leave your judgment at the doorstep
otherwise, you’ll wear out your welcome.

Remember that not all who wander
have truly lost their path,
they are simply in search of a beacon
to help them find their way back.

©

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Poetry/Poems

The Waterside Bloom…

Walking by the waters calms me,

it humbles me to see the expanse of nature’s’  beauty that abounds before me and

to realise that, I’m one of nature’s beauty and bloom.

©

Jacqueline

Flower bloom, waters

Poetry/Poems

Your vibes…

Image result for images of happy dance

Everyone has a dance inside them
have you found yours?

Just listen…

Even if you have two left feet
Move them to the beat.

©

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Poetry/Poems

Hidden Secrets…

20161105_172234

Secrets they hid away

their perversion no one saw

yet the perched little birdie watched in silence

he knew it all.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Photographs · Poetry/Poems

Finding My Fingers…

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I just fell in love again.

My fingers danced over the keyboard

flitting and picking the notes

my notes unsure at first till they started coming back in spades

I played till  my fingers cramped

losing myself in the notes belted from the keyboard.

They sounded broken, like some pieces of me,

yet soothing they came out, like the throaty seduction of the nights siren,

like the insistent squalling of a quibbling toddler.

I revisited old tunes long stored in the belly of forgetfulness

the came tumbling out, a piece at a time,

the jumbled sound of music from my own fingers sounded so beautiful.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

 

An early Christmas gift of a keyboard from my darling Himself has become a piece of peace and joy.

I haven’t played in almost 20 years and I can’t even remember the reason why. I think when I left my parents home, I was secretly waiting till I could buy a Grand Piano, that must be it which seems such a poor and insufficient reason now.

For now, I shall covet my keyboard and enjoy it thoroughly while I wait for The Grand Piano that will surely come in time. Today, we play.