Love · Poetry/Poems · The Daily Post · Weave that Dream

Ah What a Rainfall….a love poetry.

falling rainPlip, plop, tlop tlop, goes the rain drops…

Sweet memories swirl in my mind
Of young days spent
getting soaked to the skin
With nothing akin to worry in sight
Just children, playing in the rain
Wiggling tiny waist and skinny bums
Ah! What a rainfall.

Of rainy days and hair gone nappy, spongy wild from wetness
Of mother dear telling us to hold our ears and listen well
We held our ears and listened well to the chastising
Not to play in the rain again
Until the next fall came.
Quickly forgetting our pulled ears,
Yet again we went. Little urchins we were.
Ah! What a rainfall.

Nostalgic memories of rainfall
Transport me to grandma’s detached warm kitchen
Of the earthen clay pot that contained the cool, refreshing water
Water so clear from the stream, with smoky sweet unique taste
Sitting on little stools watching the drip drops of rainfall
As it gathers in puddles before us
The chicken comes to roost and dry its feathers
Of the smell of roasted dry meat, spices and the sound of pounding mortar
Even the nanny goat likes the homey kitchen, it was warm for all.
Ah! What a rainfall.

Wistful memories of rainfall
Of the days of a blooming damsel
With hair woven in neat cornrows and powdered face to illuminate her glowing self
Rain drops avoided with care, cornrows must be kept in place.
Ah! What a rainfall.

Delicious memories are here with me
Of lying in your arms and listening to your heartbeats
They seem to rhyme with the drip drops of the rainfall
Of cuddling under the covers, as the windows mist over
Whispering sweet nonsense and laughing softly
To little jokes only known by the two of us
Ah! What a rainfall.

Dreamy memories of dreamy moments
Of wondrous yearnings and many birthing
As we clung to each other
Excluding any other
And basked in the warmth of our own dew drops
Ah! What a rainfall.

Desirous moments, may the rains fall
May they make pitter-patters all over the roof top
As you design your patterns of love all over
No longer soaked to the skin am I
yet I feel the drops of the rain within your heat
and it seeps into my heartbeats.
Ah! What a rainfall.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to The Daily Post prompt singing in the rain
Safe inside, toasty warm, while water pitter-patters on the roof… describe your perfect, rainy afternoon.

Devotions · Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Poetry/Poems

Have You Met Lady Grace?….

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Let me tell you about Lady Grace.
  Fine one that arrives wearing filigree lace,
Everything done with Grace always changes the race,
When she comes, she must surely leave a trace,
For your outward expression will certainly change pace,
Reflecting inward harmony of soul around your space.

♦♦
Wields a lot of power, she does; our Lady Grace,
Her power consumes, you wish not to be a disgrace,
She can shape-shift just in case,
You ponder how she will fit into your space.

♦♦
Grace is not blind even if she keeps a straight face,
As she watches your scramble from low grass to trophy case.
She is clothed in dignity with warm human face,
Encouraging arms she extends to thee embrace.

♦♦
Should you ever seek to replace a false face
A bone deep desire to erase can take place
For there is always a meeting place
To invite the mighty Lady Grace
And she will touch base
In your living space.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Lace

Inspiration - Motivation · Love · Poetry/Poems · Weave that Dream

LUST at first SIGHT..

LUST-Be-With-A-Man-Who-Allows-You-To-Unravel-Your-Soul

Thrumming heart beats, with butterflies in stomach pits,

Entangled in the first kiss,

It’s simply sweet bliss,

Hurtling off to the bed sheets,

A hurry to meet,

It’s a tangle of feet.

The ardour cools off and off goes the heat,

They sigh and ponder, where is the love beat?

Off to search for the next hit,

Becomes a habit,

To satisfy the hungry lust,

Seems to be a must,

Failing to realize

That lust

Is just

not

LOVE!

♥ 

Devotions · Family · Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Poetry/Poems · The Daily Post

Chosen Treasures…

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The term prized possessions sounds like I simply purchased them from a supermarket, which actually places a finite value on these treasures of mine.

We do not own our family/children but we are mere custodians of these young souls who decorate our lives and our families are gifts bestowed upon us.

The elixir obtained from experience shared, the roads traveled and joy from loved ones can neither be bottled nor sold.

My family are my pride and joy.

They are my treasures of inestimable value and for these beautiful ones, I am exceedingly thankful.

Every other material possession is disposable and replaceable. It’s simply there to satisfy a specific need.

Below is a short related prose that I wrote earlier in the year.

Life on a short lease….

meditating-sunrise-natural-living

 

In deed, nothing I have is truly mine,

I am simply a beneficiary,

Of the benevolence of a Supreme Being: God,

I am only a conscious receptor of goodwill and grace,

I am simply a custodian of blessings bestowed upon me,

A mere guardian of gifts innumerable.

Not to be taken for granted.

However we look at it.

I know this.

I am just a sojourner, a wayfarer.

Nothing I have is truly mine.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to The Daily Prompt Pride and Joy.

What’s your most prized possession?

 

Creative Writing · Devotions · Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Poetry/Poems · Weave that Dream · Writing · writing ideas

A Love That Endures…

Life well-loved is a chosen treasure!

A singular shot to blissful existence!

Benefits we get with utmost pleasure!

He fortifies us with desired persistence!

When his face is sought with fervent endeavour!

Huge burdens becomes less of a pressure!

For he adorns us with unquantified favour!

Which takes us up to a higher measure!

God! Your peace is ever so soothing, your boundless love reassures!

Taking our misery to mirth, taking all our pain to gain!

Your faithfulness is forever as Your mercy endures!

The best gifts of life are all given free in the bargain!

Don’t be poor in spirit! Please cast off those chains!

Hurry! Do, come and join His Train!

Image result for image quotes of Gods love

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 – Poetry Day 10: Pleasure, Sonnet, Apostrophe

Creative Writing · Humor - Bellyful of laughter · Life · Poetry/Poems · Writing · writing ideas

Dear Madam Winter….

Snow goddess

Dear Madam Winter,

An appeal to your Bitter, Blustery Highness,
As your Icicled fingers of Frigid coldness,
Begins to drift in and it gets drafty,
Could we appeal to your Foggy, Frostbitten senses?
Could your Frozen Flurries and Freezing Rain be few?
We spend tons on Flus, Flannels and the Fireplace too!
Heating our Hearths to halt Hypothermia!
Expensive jackets, gloves, leggings, woolly mittens, caps, scarves and socks,
Long-Johns, Overcoats, Parkas and the entire shindig, cost a huge packet too!
White Christmas, Snowman and Ice skating is nice we know,
But Ma’am, we could do without your,
Foggy Overcast which forebodes Ice-storms and Hails!
We could survive without your Slippery Black Ice too!
We Turn Blue from the Huge Heaps of Knee-deep Snow on our doorsteps,
Where we are forced to Seek Cozy Comfort, to Bundle, to Hibernate and indulge in,
Copious cups of hot chocolate and Warm Soup,
Until your Dreary Frozen Highness,
Thaws from the Fingers of the Warming Sun!
Please, Your Frostbitten Excellency,
Do not get gusty and nip at my Chimney in annoyance,
I simply utter a shivery request!
Thank you, Your Chilliness.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry Day 9: Cold, Concrete Poetry, Epistrophe/Anaphora

Image courtesy: Pinterest

Family · Life · Musings · Poetry/Poems

Tints of Poignant Flavour….

Flavourful life

Flavours come in coloured tints,
Likewise emotions leave imprints,

They leave taste of euphoric dopamine,
Especially then, when you were mine,

They leave a taste of not so bright,
When everything is just not right,

A dash of joy, of peace, of faith, of hope and patience too!
A pinch of pain, of aches, of sorrow, of fear and trouble too!

With a tint of colour, each lives in our minds,
Always willing to leave something behind,

Of love that died or went away; it leaves a flavour mound,
A poignant taste of things all gone and never to be found!

You left our lives with quite a bang!
You left us behind with a lot of pangs!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Miss you dad! Happy birthday. Its 2 years on, since you left!

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry – Day 8: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio

Life · Poetry/Poems · Travel · Writing · writing ideas

On Fiery Banks of Sand…

My view from a 45th floor at Dubai Marina
My view from a 45th floor at Dubai Marina

Though Dubai may sound like Mumbai,

In influence as well as affluence, different they are!

On feisty banks of fiery dynastic sands,

Mighty men bank dynastic dreams and hold their hands!

Where waves of heat, rolls down in sweat,

Here baked in the sand and down your hands!

Built on incessant backs of hardworking peasants,

Who faced from afar seem hard-paced and unpleasant!

Yet behind shrouds of bright coloured rags,

Are found bright eyes like yours and I!

Gigantic, architectural feats dots skyline for miles,

Every mile and feet spots your face in awe and smiles!

Houses are like daring sprouts, hugging the clouds with a lot of clout,

A twinkling feat and an attempt at tickling an Angels feet!

They flower so fast these beaming towers of concrete,

With crescents of moon carved into very fluorescent beam!

Beneath emissions of incandescent beauty,

Belies penchant for pedantic duty!

Flowing robes and thobes of white,

Slack beguiling robes of black and black,

Dots every spot, every crook and nook!

Dazzles and sparkles of gold to be sold

Beckon to you to come and behold!

A mix of the saintly saints and the saintly sinners,

The stoic-faced faces and the sunny-side faces,

A potpourri of cosmopolitan, metropolitan lifestyles

Mingle in this restless, sleepless city for miles and miles,

Resplendent in the banks of feisty, fiery miles of sand!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry – Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance

Random pictures in Dubai

Creative Writing · Poetry/Poems · Writing · writing ideas

TwISTED FaCES…Day 6: Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus

eYES look.

Black eyes

………….;

                                 Macabre their faces………………;Twisted faces

TwISteD……………;

Inwards turned out………………;

Outwards turned in………………..;

In goals of pursuance……………………;

Vapid, Vacuous, Rapid, Raucous…………….Faces;

twisted face

Enthused, Sick, Happy, Disjointed, Elated…………………….Faces;

TwiTsED FaCEs……………..;

walking feetbackwards walking

To all things see………………

Popping eyes

…………………To see all things!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 poetry – Day 6: Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus

This poetry was constructed from bits and pieces of my articles scattered from WordPress to Facebook and Twitter.

Family · Love · Poetry/Poems · Uncategorized · Writing · writing ideas

The Famous Poem ‘My Mother’ by Ann Taylor

There I was thinking I had a holiday from Writing 201 this weekend, alas! Mr Ben Huberman says it ain’t so.

I guess Ann Taylor’s poem stuck in my mind because it was one of those poems that I learnt and recited as a child and coincidentally, as my young son was having a bit of allergic sniffles this weekend and being a bit irritable, the poem came back to me, since I sought ways to make him comfortable and ease his distress.

The line that stuck in my head is: ”When pain and sickness made me cry, who gazed upon my heavy eye?”

It is practically a self-explanatory poem. Enjoy remembering it with me. Kind regards

My Mother – Poem by Ann Taylor

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry potluck for the weekend.