For Vernon James
We bust leafy lyrics over the speakers
Over the campus Wall Hall
Where we built and talked our walk
Drank till we were stoned
Ate chicken and went to the Carnival
Gave you my collection
Your appreciation of paintings
Was new to me, poets and paints
We wrote with peacock feathers!
The grey shirt with matching
Loafers after your smart attire
Is what we chose for the open mic fire
In Camden, the intrigues played!
Hitting up the bars with lyrics.
Commentary: This poem comes out of the time I rolled with Vernon James, (the subject of the poem) and the times we spent while at University of Hertfordshire at the Wall Hall campus. We hung out at The Carnival, where there were brears blazin’, listening to the hip hop there. We used to bus’ freestyles on campus and I produced a fair few beats on the QY20 sequencer…
© Zubyre Parvez 2016 All Rights Reserved
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WRITER BIO: Zubyre Parvez (BA hons) studied English Literature at Hertfordshire University. He writes song lyrics, poetry, short stories, reviews, and articles for The Taoist Crucible. His poetry won runners up in a competition judged by Simon Armitage and Margaret Atwood. His poetry has been published in Kobita. His articles have appeared in The Epoch Times as a journalist for the newspaper. He has worked for New Tang Dynasty Television as a journalist. You can catch up with his tweets @TheEaghams
Putting The Words Together
On my own I have been putting the words together
I been meaning to show you what I can do, what’s new
Does it take longer than we first think when we go
Along a course of action I’ve learned what I know
Trying to piece it all together to find my way in life
And I hope you find your way here, like a passenger
On the train and train conductor communication travels
My stop fast approaches the rhythms are jazz drums
Good to see you time for me to catch another train
Another song waits in construction of lines we plan.
There are poems that I write that revive my interest
When I’ve read enough from my books, when the air is full
Of my heart, conjured imagination, the impact
Of full books of full story outside the pub the drinks
Take away the spirits of some though the dreams appear
When you’re not in the mood so I turn to the page now
For all the times I’ve not had a clue, this is how it’s told.
I’ve wanted to write and wear the culture
I’ve reaped and sown fine seam, casual and loose
Where the apartment blocks of the past
Lack definition I’d say
Although like building bricks
I read read more than just cover to cover
I build the stores of my foundation
Reading the paragraphs under
The lamplight, for ears around
The corner of the book I recall
You look at the record sleeves
Of your fashion statements
That were true to the person.
Wine-tint glasses were turned
Away to read more closely
And to write of what
Springs to mind, a fountain
The refreshment from the
Banks of memory to rejuvenate
To get back to some of our flow
Away from the incongruence.
Renaissance Man Part II
Back to the drawing board
Brushing up against the past
The painter reflects on the scenes
He made his peace with old friends
And turns to the Old Masters.
Conceived in his watchful calm
Never turning his back from
The canvas though his back
Was a picture of the years
That rested squarely on his shoulders
Congruent with the town square
In which he lived and breathed life
Into his paintings the clouds and sky
From within, a real air to it, and city,
And landscape and all his canvas
Became a painted mirror watercolour.