My Third Book Of Poems – front page book cover


My Third Book Of Poems – I am circling around the Amazon so far, for I am thriving to hire a professional graphical designer -for I am intending to create a more suitable design – you can follow me on WATTPAD platform. I will post some of my poetry there.. regarding this book of a bit cryptic yet intense poetry, or at least, I would like to think so 
soon I am going to open FB artistical page.
I hope some amongst you would like to join me there.

fb3dQuotes90

The Punisher


Version 1 
Ah, to hell with that creature.
Desert everywhere, unending for the last human soul on Earth.
Each feather is rosy from the inner tissue degradation,
as if a crafty carpenter made tiny bones in my flesh,
making figurines from past dreams with a brush and a chisel.
And then there were the patterns which bubbled after a sleepless night
that were on the back of the hand of that greedy beggar like an undead spirit.
What kind of powerful shriek is that?
Exhaling painfully and clasping my throat, I jolted up.
It’s a fear that boded the upcoming unrest.
More is deserved! And the gods have seen fit to deliver more gifts
for the people of Gateshead and the British jackal! No more than the barbaric getae.
A mockery, on all accounting! A SLIPPY COIN is the glory you deserve.
What name does the rich man carry? I never cared to ask.
But to defy the wishes of the human in need, it’s not wise.
Up Punisher, you drunken goat, and lend your men with horns to the noble task.
166490-primary-0-nativeres
Aaron Douglas  
The Judgment Day
Version 2
Stone the Lordling! Parched wilderness,
incessantly breeding the Talisman ashore!
Decaying tissue falcon feather apiece,
as if a beardless carpenter
brewing bones tiny in my beef,
forging fair maiden figurines
from bygone fantasy brushing and chiseling.
Whispered howbeit the drowning merchant,
wagging tail grappling Outrageous Zeus,
such forlornly the alluring fair maiden?
The sobbing tongue hanging in a scabrous well, forcing a jolt.
Ah! The hell of fear! The chaotic Hades! Looming like a bee.
The skies rumble with agreement, justifying innate deliverance:
higher thunder, growling bolt and the lightning!
Bless Gateshead and the British jackal,
Caricatures abound, all intellectuals say, all fools agree.
Gold-plated lead is the glory sought on the cradle of faithlessness.
What designation is borne by the puffy pockets?
Too unconcerned lay I, never is prudent to disregard
the want of endangered seeds sleeping in burnt lands.
Up Punisher, you drunken goat,
and lend your men with horns to the noble task.
***

all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019

edited by: Obinna Eruchie

www.allpoetry.com/Obinnex

https://www.poemhunter.com/obinna-kenechukwu-eruchie/

My poetical journey – Follow me here, too – Wattpadd.com


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I will continue to write my poems (epic poetry genre – for this book) for the book “Poems from my travels”

Untitled

Poems from my Travels – The curse of Helena of Troy


1

By the Shield of Heracles and

the four realms of lesser Asia-lands  and

as for the unseen rocks this it fell not unto me to say

But swear, Traveller,

On the turves from the horses’ hoofs

In the great battle that is to come

In danger, I am, and in the courage that welcomes danger.

That all the poison ran about

And many little deaths are to be written

dismayed with aghast and the dread,

in the legend for the unseen rocks,

describing stop by stop

2

Each numerous passages take on cargoes

of magic as an ear of wheat from this island

and there are numerous sugar legends as well

. Traveller, from hence may you unbind, give your detail

Are you of the Boetian heroines who gave birth to demi-gods or heroes.

Or a mortal passenger?

First Priam came, lest the din of to meet this madman’s rage;

They’re loud and long

Where serpents neverending sleep

Clothe me naked, devotee with naked feet

Undress me here and named I will spring up  – Quick.

Alas, you came down to me through curtains

Such a lit onward in such a way as not

Abrupt a lion in his den for you are more skilled in your hides than Paris,

as ghost, tricky and I, tricked out, greatly daring…

And thus I see you, may I see you

As whatever lurks beneath your hood and long hair.. ah!

The goddess, bide not, I rarely have seen

A fervid woman, for you, are a woman,

Traveller’s image of vesper lips through midmost azure..

eyes.

Tell me more about my dress, woman

Deftly now and girdle your loins,

just look at my cheek that felt a tear, a kiss,

To Lesbos, for through the poisoned wine will be

no the maid off mine

Will hail your beauty more worthy than my prize.

We must hide you for Paris is looking always

Looking always to awake a vision of love and beauty

bearing their way

Traveller, The straining doves fly fly to the nostril

where under the scented fume of tortured fame

Whisper at the future in the passions past. Yet

in my despairing and in my boredom..

Purge through all my corporal pores

And stuck adherent in sword and tye

Supply my every want.
3

And the Traveller answered her:

Is it too much to ask that, Helena?

To supply each cringy whore

To groop with grace every needy harlot

To owe my being to this blessed night

One claps my wings for eternal travel

I fire my muses to harder joys

For deeds and arms prepare, for Troy

I taught for a hero and made a boost of

my travels  that grow supreme

For through your boredom queen life’s tides renewing bring

The bucolic

wreathless

the vigor of heart bewitches

the Prince

the Troy

the man

the woman

a clearer picture of the untrodden shore

I seek everything but passion

mood all they lie and appease you

but the Traveller obeyed more apt command

From sable on to roaring roar

This passion is searing me!

From out of the dainty heather in the country places

like master sailing with oar and boat

Only brood and willows

Fire and the windows

The true word of welcome in Ur Nammu’s ziggurat

Lone let it stand, the true word

of the first pirate of Tortuga

of the Spanish fleet,

feared not storm this grand ship

in the magic chariot through

The clouds

To reap advantage

As good bosoms are found aboard were set ashore,

and the vessel to the spirits and to the gods I made!

Yes.. – I, rode the caravan roads

and wide Arabian deserts

from the mighty Sheba[1]t

to the magnificent Gaza which they ruled.

I drank ginger ale with the Queen of Sheba,

bringing her spices and herbs from Cana

and many a treasure by sea, from India….

(Traveller continues to ramble..)

4 Helen

Traveller,

talents into jewels brimming with Sheba’s gemstones

Drink your fill, join me

In this aweful council

Of bright pure water from life’s poisonous chalice

there won’t be any war under that sky

Hear me at once, for I am a messenger from lust

And that ‘s enough, for lust is vanity, I, Helena,

Selfish in her beginning as her end

Seal delicious saffron lips yet

their covetousness and the extremity they were blazing

my temper to made me venture with ghostlike ladies like you!

Whose tempter’s tongue never knew nor rust tarnish

Burn Troy cry in anguish

smooth floored maddening spirit

Will not escape as captives

With kingly scourge to lust that stings

Tomorrow, musick the fair of wars

Inherit your sick palaces

And thus in virtue I, sea sundered harlot

Bathe the bare naked along with ministers of tears

Long must elapse by the plunging night

Beautiful beautiful Paris in his manly might

Gaze at last I yield to be caressed, come Death…

Such good wives throw their good spouses

Sages and arts and the next rattling dice

But I? – never.   Her dress stains with a sterams of blood…Her dagger…

 

5

I told this tale of Gudea’s powerful teaching

to Chaldean descendants

in the city of Gerrha,

where I did trade,

to which the Gerrhan folk ridiculed me.

The moment they were about to stone me out of the city,

I turned and raised my arms, telling them this.

– Descendants of Chaldeans,

the masons of Babylon,

you who have torn down the temple of Solomon:

in two hundred years you will be wiped from the face

of the earth in pools of blood. – with cries,

by the curse of Helena

for not paid his mental worship first

for not paid fort the remnants of Troy

I brought to you as a gift

Thus dishonoured and dismissed the lady seer

Helena, a slaughtered bird on even feet

Arose to the greater glory

Her lips with water first bedewed I did not

For I was a Traveller, not a man or a woman

The sacrifice decreed in greater good sacrifice ordain

Now Helen is a Traveller, too!

how small this name to you to what you now know

she picked up her cards and counters

she never saw the city of whose fate I sang

if such a city ever existed

Calm and enthusiastic; tired, but not depressed

an Obelisk its Shade arise

and depths of despair remain

—restless at the night.

In breeches freely lies

how can I get a night’s rest, you ministers of disturbed mind!

She killed herself and thus she saved Troy

And prince Paris had started afresh!!

On jarring matches turn

On her needful twirls

To conquer the Traveller’s dapper waist to ranting Dame

In danger, she was, and in the courage that welcomes danger.

 

As I said this, I vanished and hence missed seeing their astounded faces. I convinced myself of my own prophecy when I returned to the massacred city, sometime around ninth century

To this, the ghost of Traveller went ablaze with bright light. He howled and announced victoriously – I ground Babylon to dust!

[1]The capital of the ancient kingdomHadhramaut, Hadhramout, Hadramawt or Ḥaḍramūt (probably “Death has come” or “court of Death”)in Genesis 10:26 and 1 Chronicles 1:20 in the Bible. Hadramaut was where exotic goods trade took place.

And before you go…


Untitled

***
And before you go, may a powerful word shake up everyone’s hearts,
and let the famed cities weep in despair – for the devil had come to Jerusalem!
The holy arm of the Lord cannot touch that tale – I mock you– but only the devils!
The devil, satyr, the shaitan and
may black foreboding link the passages instead of sentences.
All of the trees around Jerusalem had been long cut.
Days collide and go by, shackled by the thick adamant of swelter.
I breathe through my pores, bleed with the desert stones.
The hills of Judea crumble and get washed away in stuffy, grey dust.
But I remember a cannonade and explosion of a force unleashed
as I squint under the heavy, blinding light
I remember…everything…every drop of blood…with nostalgia.
And not to be misunderstood – this is hell.
***
all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019

Poems from my travels 2 – Jerusalem


As I crossed my hands, leaning towards the scroll and gazing into the gelded ring on his left hand, adorned by cameos.
I met a furious passenger knight who slammed the pitcher of mead against the table.
‘A bloody mess’
while descending down the stairs of the tomb with a lit torch.
You messenger who mounted upon white tombs
with no desire to do evil but good,
the history of your work may explain my faults
and deeds and strength to fulfil
how I act in hostile daring heat,
had vowed to treat my enemies as harlots with splendour art.
Of tombs and shields and gentle ear
escaped by strange occurrences to be long live forgone
to meet no one but you, yet further on your way, where art thou going?
Traveller, why mount the weary soldier’s cold corpse,
for this cavern sake that my bones hold?
I travel to blaze all who bears a mortal shield
’tis exposed my poor unfortunate, afflicted,
I best for whatsoever in the world I found
a captive as I am, usually they crave in graves from that,
to add another visit to the dead seed by herbage dukedoms,
I long to see the things attempted that never bleed.
Then go ask the tombs’ gallants, not corpses speed,
O daughter of Samarra, they reeked of rottenness,
as my valour was ill-fated, not a heart has remained in this dead body
and my casket of a noble form packed up with silver
and the caskets were surrounded by massive, bare stones.
One of the doors led to the secret chambers.
Try to pay your debt through that part!
“But what has happened to you?”
Wide-gaping lion of Judah towards a canal of Divinity
drowned in the woe of burning adamant,
next to a blue shield depicting a menorah
there lie the corpses, like thoughts I loathed,
they rot below the great ball of fire,
while one more favoured higher placed SHOOTING STARS
on the crystal pavement beneath Mount Zion’s.
Here Siege has ceased, irreparable blustering vote
Arabian Googles are… up for proffer or if in my rising
I seemed called by the tar of my throbbing leaves,
for such another field, her name was Via Dolorosa
surrounded by olive branches.
Simplified 5-Step Approach to mesenteric blood flow
swing with Cross of Lorraine from trenches,
the hollows of erstwhile eyes are filled
with mindless thirst an acorn cup in light and shade.
Ooze, like tears, trickled down them in thin streams,
or was it, perhaps, blood?
Swaying on the scorching Sun.…miserable wretches, goodness gracious I died! ~
For bold to rest by fate arriving in the sore tide there,
my captive arc, Isis, Osiris maimed my brute shield,
my hauberk, my gaunt, the half-clothed hauberk alone,
the dreadful voyage, the dreadful for the penny of hazard;
as for the honour of Charon’s boat aforesaid and impregnated form in the air,
go ask amid a dune.
O daughter of Samarra, through the forest highs
nothing is so beautiful than thirsty lips enemies stranded ashore
bid them farewell with gunshots.
And for my spirit – mild voice persists,
capable of rejuvenating hearts and souls,
for fire burst among the bare castle stones,
swallowed the black crows and toothless witches,
and then died down the same moment
Ask how I aflame the dreaded fire to ingle and ash.
Fire tongues of my enemies a huge bonfire of spirit consists.
Geysers of blood are bursting out of the flaming masonry.
I treat my enemies like harlots,
for the devil follows those on Earth
who build their churches in graves, dust and blood.
Ask how I act, burned by the sun,
the ancient rage I bore in my heart,
the wrath of the gods from the beginning of time,
through the centuries brought to the boiling point,
a wooden statue of an angry Arab god
shaped by blows and insults, by time itself.
Yet sometimes I stepped away,
dismounted and threw open
an expensive canvas before me,
and sometimes I ran out of breath.
I fell to my knees, facing the hellish building
of the Mameluke ruler Baibars, whose symbol was a Cheetah.
I believed that if I were to touch the illusion,
the dream will dissipate and I will again be at the battlefield.
Maybe even in front of the Lion gate itself…
Ask, a spark of surprise in her eyes –
I drank ginger ale with the Queen of Sheba,
bringing her spices and herbs
from Cana and many a treasure by sea, from India.
I broke bread with ancient Chaldeans
who taught me the secrets of science.
The magical force rules over the wicked jokes,
the learned Chaldean is sworn and ordered to vengeance.
If this all isn’t a dream, I can hardly wait to tell God of all of this nonsense
And before you go, may a powerful word shake up everyone’s hearts,
and let the famed cities weep in despair – for the devil had come to Jerusalem!
The holy arm of the Lord cannot touch that tale – I mock you– but only the devils!
The devil, satyr, the shaitan and
may black foreboding link the passages instead of sentences.
All of the trees around Jerusalem had been long cut.
Days collide and go by, shackled by the thick adamant of swelter.
I breathe through my pores, bleed with the desert stones.
The hills of Judea crumble and get washed away in stuffy, grey dust.
But I remember a cannonade and explosion of a force unleashed
as I squint under the heavy, blinding light
I remember…everything…every drop of blood…with nostalgia.
And not to be misunderstood – this is hell.
***

all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019

edited by: Obinna Eruchie

www.allpoetry.com/Obinnex

https://www.poemhunter.com/obinna-kenechukwu-eruchie/