Drunken Life
Drunken Life
I wake up on a Sunday Morning
To the sound of cars horning
Smelling of booze
And a particular ooze
No wash, no breakfast, no amount of food
Can put me in my desired frame of mood
All dressed
From yesterdays mess
I am ready to visit my favourite spot
This is where I once fought
A pub with loads of alcohol
Where I can stand up all mighty and tall
Six pints of lager
And I stagger
But hold on it is not yet over
For I am in Dover in my Rover
Prepared for a sleepover from any type of hangover
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Gently my Friend
Gently my friend
Gently gently my friend
For your words only tend
To extend
The moment I descend
Upon you with the truth
Look at us
Let’s examine our personal fuss
That’s dissolved our years of harmonious union
And created total fusion
Of distrust and tension
How can you question my loyalty?
And condemn it as utterly faulty
When only yesterday
You pronounced me
As the best friend you ever had
Oh! My friend, how sad!
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Addictive Gambler
Addicted Gambler
This is a sad tale
Of a man who gambled and failed
His desire was to get rich quick
But he ended up being a losing freak
Daily withdrawals from the cash machine
Yet with money he was so mean
Never ate hence so thin and lean
Smoked away with bad breath and skin
He had other hidden talents
Which were vividly silent?
He was creative
Very imaginative
But none of that ever became lucrative
An addicted gambler
Who tried his hands at everything?
To see what his luck might bring
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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So what will it be?
So what will it be?
What will it be?
What will it be?
When the sun rises
With life hitches that you try to stitch
In your everyday struggle
So what will it be?
What will it be?
What will it be?
When you try to analyse
Instead of embracing
What’s been thrown before you?
You may think you have the answer
But whatever it is
I get your point
Let me be blunt
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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O! Caroline O! George
O! Caroline, O! Caroline
What are you doing on the streets of Leicester square?
Sitting and soliciting on the road for loose change
Wearing tattered clothes and flying smelly careless hair
Why is the elegant lady I once knew acting very strange?
O! George, O! George
Maybe it is because you left me
Forgetting to pay me
An annual maintenance fee
Maybe it is because you left me
Without leaving behind your Ferrari key
Maybe it is because you left me
Bare all alone, after sex behind the Iroko tree
Can't you see, you were my only golden key to be free
Until you did a three hundred and sixty degree!
O! Caroline, O! Caroline
I have no one right now to make me
My early morning cup of warm tea!
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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O! Cardiff
I recently took a weekend trip to the country of Wales. I stayed in Cardiff and I was simply blown away by the beauty of the countryside of Wales that I decided that it was about time for me to take up my pen again and write a little poem about Cardiff and Wales.
O! Cardiff
In a twist of tales
I took a trip to the Country of Wales
Slapped from side to side by windy gales
I could not help but bite my finger nails
O! Cardiff
I speak with love blindly
You taste like a sweet wild cherry
The never-ending hills of houses are a beauty clearly
Through the land of valleys known as Methyr Tydfil
I saw sights of green imposed on me without tariffs
There was the largest city called Cardiff
Enticing me luxuriously to a weekend of mischief
A parcel of Castles
Castle Coch, Caerphilly Castle and Cardiff Castle
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Miss Cinderella, sing my song
This is one of my poems in my current erotic poem book I am writing to publish later this year. And please it is all based on imagination!
The smell of her strong musky fragrance
Imposed on me a certain disturbance
Clearly in the air there was no romance
Perhaps that was a sign of its entrance
That night I slept but a little
My fingers in a constant fiddle
Tossing and turning
My imagination running
Wow! She was stunning
Her lips alone I couldn’t dismiss
Even with a single kiss
I simply do not know how to ‘take the piss’
Those delicate rosy cushy red lips
Needed seven times seven daily kiss trips
With special tantalizing nurturing from my lips
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Social Classes
The Social Classes
I tried to measure my individual status
Against this worlds benchmark
Pondering on common open remarks
Researching from newspapers
And listening to the media
Learning from decades of history
Some of those events remain a mystery
Trying to unfold the logic
Of the class differences in today’s modern society
Upper Class, Upper Class my foot
These are merely wealthy tycoons
Most of them born with golden spoons
Luck is needed to belong to this ring
Its liking flying to the moon
In a hot aired balloon
Or trying to sing
Through a key ring
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poem by Sylvia Chidi (17 October 2005)
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