Mustapha Matura
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Poets Are As Poets Be.

Becomes me,
Do i become it, 
Of this we shall see,
No full blown words
I promise thee,
Simply what i
Wish you to see.

One has to establish 
Pursue simplicity,
Avoid duplicity,
Embrace intensity,
Reject pomposity,
Forget mendacity,
Decline voracity,
Ignore capacity
Circumvent complicity,
Eradicate elasticity,
And beware verbosity,


Mayan temples rise On finely chiselled stones
Down which, 
Screams unheard,
The blood of it’s victims flowed
To waiting earth, 
Or bowl,
Replenishing one,
– Nourishing the other.

Aiming at perfection

The wandering mind wonders
Along avenues
Of blossoming thoughts,
Over muddy fields
Of curiosity,
Towards unknown streets
Of mystery,
Stumbling down black alleyways 
Of blind faith,
At a large round square. 


Daily performances 
of characters assumed,
or situations presumed, 
responses exhumed,
desires consumed,
dreams resumed. 

Shattered Dreams.

Shattered dreams,
in shattered mirrors,
eyes, pleading,
Help us,
We are trapped
between wanting 
and having
i cannot help you,
you say,
i am just the same.
To Wit To Woo.

Charming is
as charming does.
When passing eyes
do meet;
Like birds, 
Unspoken words do fly
Towards tomorrow.

The Queen Bee.

Why does she
pretend to be
A queen bee
for me to see,
whilst drinking coffee.
Mist 1.

A mystic mist descends,
Enveloping us in cloaks of mystery,
In search of sorcery,
Looking for needles
in haystacks,

Mist 2.

A mystic mist descends, slowly,
Enveloping us 
in cloaks of mystery,
Shrouded in secrecy,
In search of sorcery,
Promising liberty,
Delivering f ****ery. 

Many a branch has broken 
and flower wilted,
For chasing dogs, 
and lovers jilted,
A broken vase holds no tears,
For those who grieve,


Wine and cheese 
doth please me so,
as words of comfort doth ease,
How easy the spirit lie,
When the revolutionary die. 
Crunching the Crunch.

Swimming in Recession,
Drowning in Depression.
Property for let or sale,
Two Suits go pass,
One on bail,
One to jail.


Images of success 
fill heads 
with emptiness,
To win or lose is all,
But all is not all
it’s cracked up
to be. 

When poets die,
Unseen comets blaze forth
Signalling the birth of ‘other;
For every word let fly,
A muse do cry.


Hope springs eternal,
It’s droplets quench the needy’s thirst.
Living in hope & hoping to live,
The faithful farmer
Sows and weeps.


The Old Man 

Ho, Ho, Ho,
Look dey,
Look dey,
Look de ole man,
Looking at de ho, ho, ho

Vice Versa 

Tell me Sir, 
what do you do, 
I am a poet, say I. 
Does that mean you deal with matters 
or spiritual? 
both, says I, 
You can’t have the lyrical 
without the spiritual, 
And vice versa. 

No accolades won,
Nor honors bestowed upon,
The lonely Poet writes
When I'm alone.
I tell myself 
I'm not alone,
An Ism 

Every sentence a torture, 
Every comma a pause, 
A writer’s life is never easy, 
Especially when he bores. 

he called it 
when in his cup,
And dross, when not.
His manner supreme
Doth mask fear unseen,
Of laughter derisory,
And words forgot
His spirits when high
Never harmed a fly
In soup or poop.
In Space There Is No Gravity.

Amid fluster and bluster, 
Perils lurk,
A lesson taught 
is not a lesson learnt,
The past becomes the present,
The present the past,
Timeless scores are settled.

The Past 

The lingering past,
Though passed,
Lingers longer,
Friend or foe,
Purpose unknown
a presence alone, 

Standards flutter, 
and fall,
Accommodating the dullest dreams,
of those that aspire,
Never attained, 
But for trying and desire,
A good vow broken 
is better than a bad one kept,
they wave and pave.. 
A French Beret 

I wish I knew a way to wear a French beret, 
Right, Some say, 
Left, Some say 
Back, Some say, 
Front, Some say, 
I wish I knew a way to wear a French beret 

I is I
An me is me, 
I Mee have a shop in Charlie,
And Charlie is a village in Debe.
But, you’ll never catch me Dey.
even on Four Day. 
Sound Poem 

ofay, ofay, gang, gang. 
ofay gang, gang. 
ofay gang, gang. 
ofay gang, gang. 

gang gang, gang gang, ofay, 
gang gang ofay. 
gang gang ofay, gang gang, ofay. 


A timely interruption was had,
When the off-break hit Worrells' pad, 
Weeks shook his head an said, luck bad, 
Walcott stewps an said, umpire mad, 
The crowd was not glad. 

Lithe limbs, lumber longingly,
Towards pleasures unknowingly,
a caress, between,
a kiss, beyond,
a joy, found.


Mustapha Matura 2020