The Eaghams Weekly: Poem: Intrigue

Intrigue

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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The EaghamsWRITER 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

The Eaghams Weekly: Poems: Putting The Words Together

 

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.

Untitled

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.

Music Sleeve

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.

Fount

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.

Poetry Lines

Poetry Lines 



 Baggage from the long haul it's in what we got that we got
 What we got and that we get to get what we will get
 
 We followed like a latter day Stuart, the real story at bay,
 There is a name that I know and name is my own of my own
 
 The creative spark from chopping woods in the forest
 To do away with what got passed there is a fire in life
 
 I know when I have recovered what was more lost than my past
 Is to me, the truth is what we call home is why we are here
 
 Chances are for chances I know legacy is what some
 Would give an arm and leg for what you write is what you keep.
 
 I write to uncover the poem found in the lines, the original
 I won't jump to your tune just cause you want me to
 
 I won't walk your talk just cause you say create the crates
 Once again of late, wound up in what we unravel serene
 
 Spoken word slam poet we come out with a bang
 So as to drum up and round up my beats stick, taking stock
 
 What makes up, the imagination we make of it what we will
 I set about my wanderings watchful you miss everything
 
 It's high time you saw yourself out of your own ivory tower
 The words echo through time, the words echo through time.

 30th April 2017

Poetry: Real

We’ve made sense of the past few years
The image of some vanity and that’s an
Ambition they may have had, I am me

I don’t have the same background
What it all looks like to me
What it all looks like as you

I did not stand for your canvas
The legs stood by the chairs
on can’t be the legs of paintings easel,

No I don’t ask for that mantelpiece
Fixture, that’s an imitation of
What is not the true architecture.

Poetry: On Paintings

On Paintings

by The Eaghams
 
Here's a brief piece on paintings.
 Paintings straighten out one's thinking
 I think it's measured lines like poetry

That restore things to their former glory
 They are to be treasured,for another thousand
 Years! It's because their sentiments are

Had by all, they are universal, a rave
 They're not, but I won't go on, and on, and on
 About them. They've taken place of my sense

Of reflection but they give us thoughts
 About what that past was in the first place
 Some of the paintings remind me of a particular

Face, the same fondness for characters
 And the type of people I know. Our relationship
 With the world, extends to these paintings

In their affinity and likeness to ourselves
 They are the type of person some people painted
 Them in the past and whose manners and

Gestures I can really imitate and that's
 What's so cool, from the paintings comes a lot
 Of history, a lot of geography, a lot of landscapes

Of scenes and movement. A lot of satire,
 A lot of character reading, a whole lot
 Of character reading the actual fact.

Poetry: Soldier to Soldier

Soldier to Soldier

It had been hours of gruelling violence,
he could feel a aching tiredness in his legs,
and his back was giving him gip,
as he hobbled over dead bodies of men
who were conscripted as early as eighteen.
The things he saw in these moments were
enough in the coming years away from
the sanguinary battlefield.
He saw the enemy face metamorphose
in the slowing down of time into a face
that was familiar and distant to him,
like some member of his tribe.
It was the face of his brother,
a fellow Turk in a past life
he had spontaneously recalled
in the heat of the moment.
It brought him a strange wave of happiness,
An oasis of joy and comfort in a barren desert.
He dropped his rifle to the ground,
the memory struck piercing into his mind
as his brothers wild staring eyes.
Disorientated now, he grew angry and quizzical
at the absurdity of the war.
Losing his sense of place and time,
something so necessary for any mercenary,
he retreated from the sanguinary battleground,
becoming his own worst enemy.
A war inside him raged now, the camouflage fatigues,
reminding him of some deeper connection with nature.

© Zubyre Parvez 2017 All Rights Reserved

WRITER BIO: Zubyre Parvez (BA hons) studied English Literature at Hertfordshire University. He writes song lyrics, poetry, short stories, reviews, and articles for The Eaghams Blog. 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

ARTIST BIO:The Eaghams aka Zubyre Parvez is an Urban Indie singer songwriter from London. His song The Roots was played on BBC 1Xtra by DJ Excalibuh. He has collaborated with artists such as Mr Hectic and Jason Air formerly of Island records. He has played at The Garage, and various open mics around London.

Poetry: The Native American

 

 The Native Indian 


 The Eaghams

 The eagles spread their wings
 Dreamcatcher through winds
 From the idaho where the star

Spangled banner is not
 they gaze at the glittering
 night sky from their home.

Tribe elder his skin tough as leather
 Weather worn, a shade of blue,
 Guides the children in their nest

The gazelle roams in the sunrise
 Sillouette of tree branches over
 The native soil he returns to heartland.

© Zubyre Parvez 2017 All Rights Reserved

WRITER BIO: Zubyre Parvez (BA hons) studied English Literature at Hertfordshire University. He writes song lyrics, poetry, short stories, reviews, and articles for The Eaghams Blog. 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



ARTIST BIO:The Eaghams aka Zubyre Parvez is an Urban Indie singer songwriter from London. His song The Roots was played on BBC 1Xtra by DJ Excalibuh. He has collaborated with artists such as Mr Hectic and Jason Air formerly of Island records. He has played at The Garage, and various open mic