Posted: October 23, 2016 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

I found a crimson dawn
A wake of an unusual ambience of glistening airs
It came iodinic, but gave an impression before it disappeared
It did gave a seed of royal gaze, Elise
Of Pulchritude, of Nous. Her breathes are sentinels
So, that she captured my thoughts, completely
Elise, your advent is not momentous. Time brought you to stay.

For this time alone, this whole season, I cherish
Elise, time borne you, when my bloods would dry
That your breathes would resurrect their fading shades
That your palms would fix the cracked skins
That your sight would heal the drowning countenance
That your whispers would save the dying heart
That the bloods wake again, to smell the spice of comfort
Thence, from within, resurrect like a multicolored Phoenix
This love that I have seen, yours, has melt my thoughts.

If love shall be fair, then my heart has found rest
For seasons have betrayed my past fantasies
Chances have mocked my wishes and interest
The weathers, from afar jested my heart with simpers
Now that you are here, I smell time and love reward

Elise, love is no time’s fool, it reigns
Its colour is not chameleonic; it speak constancy
I will love you as brightness, to the sun
I will do, as the whale, to the blue sea
Elise, not time nor chance, will intrude the love.

Murphy Simon, 2016.


Posted: September 13, 2016 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

The Sun shined today
The Flowers came forth
The Waters bubbled
The Birds, on a high pitch, crooned
The Trees, with fairy smiles, merry
The Skies, softly glowed
The Airs, high-spirited, mirth
Then I, on a comfort sofa, relaxed.

It soon became sudden
When a cry sighed
Tears rhythm the cry’s angst
A melody of breathless hopelessness
Of a tethered emotions
Trampled by an unthoughtful villain
Whose blood breed sadism
The cry, of a hapless countenance.

She is a little girl
She is of life, a neophyte
She, naive of humans, trusts
She, of benign mental scheme
She is innocent, helpless of mundane thoughts
She, of disdain; not a once willing
She is a little damsel
She is, humbly of celestial intentions

She cried to the Airs
She screamed to the Skies
She stammered the Trees names
Her diadem, when she showed, spoke blue
Then the Sun feared, downed
And all turned moody
Her anguish sicked them
Her cries wearied their soul
Her screams quaver their feet
Her face, of seeming tears baptism.

When her mood seemed fair
When the feelings let her, of utterances
She, of jittery mentions and piteous constructs
Sparsely, spoke straight from the shoulder
But her voice shied to be raised
So, of a callous man she talked

He broke her confidence
He grudged her innocence
He messed her ambience
He shattered her conscience
He dimmed her brilliance
He killed her abstinence
He withered her flowers
He trampled her treasure
He stole from her a shining gem
His emotions never seemed remorseful
He raped her
He, of boastful steps, walked away!

He knew it, but her hale sicked his intention
His blood were of colors mixed, equally
He smiled, his sweats commended his actions
His seeds marred her flourishing meadow
When his nonchalant arrow thrust her meadow orifice
He, all together, was nonchalant
So he brewed of his bile-ful blood
And she, and him, dine of it together, forcefully.

It was a Saturday, the Birds were far away
The Snows were of gleeful romance with the Grasses
So, the Beasts and Zebras, up Sahara they tan
The Airs then, of relief be; hid under the Trees
None, nothing was suspicion, of the knowledge acquired
Until he did, and simpered, then walked away
Neither their absence not Inactions saved her breathes.

Now that her spirit is punctured
The detritus of her emotions shy to glow
Lowly their mentions ring; sung by their debris
But beyond the glimpse of sights
Her confidence and delights have journeyed away.

Murphy Simon


Source: Random internet search

Ao pade leti odo
Tese Angeli tite e

The airs are dry again
The soils have risen unprepared,
With sudden hastiness of unknown rushes
Plodding the earth’s fabrics with no regards
Melting the sun with their weird pinching countenance
With unnumbered questions flowing their helpless mind
Brothers, let’s be silent, to permit some untutored wails
Listen, the melting tongues come so close, far away
Someone had just passed on! The land is ill again!

Let not the anxious thunder be an angered today
Its lightening is another terror, sending heels to hell
Let not the day brighten today, in shame it should lie
Like the heavens, like the winking carefree hell
Should anxiety’s connivance entrap the clear ambience?
Should dreading spill the concoction of ailments?
That these lands then die in weariness and staleness
Death, please! Your palms are heavy on this cuddles
Spare these breeze of your unwanted breathes

To mo gara bi crystali
Leba ite Olorun)

Albeit, eventide would yet praise your invisible brow
But we have seen it, the hue of your unknown shades’ mixed
When the town daughters slipped at the sea shore
That your Finch glued trespass, on the palmwine tapper’s mental
Of them, of you; just a surreal hand, thoughts, and fate
Don’t harm them no more, these lands wither of pains
Friend us no more, our companies are yet much enough
May the rains fall soon, to sooth our pained heart
To heal the lands, with hurting hands of colorless stones

When will those with Hiroshima’s dust wake of bravery?
When will the gaols of Sambisa resurrect, eventually?
Shall we keep hoping for the freedom of the moulding tears
To fix the debris of the battered mind, whilst time fades
Down the West, we heard your roar, like a mad lion
Down the East, we covet your smiles, like an infant’s joy
But wither we tend? Your chameleonic breath only feint
But let him rest, He that is passed, maybe time would speak
Yea, speak for us to meet again, when the other days are born.

Ao pade leti odo
Odo didan , Odo didan naan
Pelu Awon mimo leba odo
Ton shan leba ite nan)

Murphy Simon
04 . 06 . 2016
15 : 00hours

© -2016- AdamsMurphy®


Photo Credit: Free Internet Search

The sun would soon be tired
When her fabrics bleach ecru
The fading feather fabrics of her fainted follicles
She would be weary, when the rain comes
To bath her with mockery dews of insipidity springs
Lumps of her throat wouldn’t dissolve, not one
Chance, may comfort her dying desire and hope
Tell her I shall join her, on the staunch faith seat
Waiting for the one, that never comes

The Archer spoke to me of blossom-ness
His surplice white was celestial, of high regards and sacredness
My shadow yet would not go, no, after the twilight play
The Archer was malignant, his black blood spoke it
Tell him, his stabs on my Shadow hurts but yet bearable
Of him, of his Machiavellian hues, I remain stoic
On this post I yet remain, building my brows of grey and yellow
Waiting for the one, that never comes

They say, patience is a virtue that doesn’t fail
When my nostrils smelt its different shades, they scared me
Its shade are ambivalent, seeking which to build on
Brimstone would rain tomorrow when the sun sleep
And royalty would be jested when the purples slumber
If time would yet spare us, we shall yet be staunch
Waiting for the one, that never comes

So I will sit, and be sober, and merry and be pensive
The fogs and the snows of the North, I shall consult
They will please my heart and they, me will melt
The one that never comes would come, serendipity
And the Sun, and the Archer,and Me shall be patient
More, perhaps Patience would smile of it fairest countenance
Yet, building optimism, waiting for the one that never comes

© -2016- AdamsMurphy®


Picture: Found Randomly

I told the dreams,
I won’t come visiting again
My eyes are weary of their ambivalence
That me, of utopian pleasures waste
And Fears, divorce my shying skins
My mental flies, on Phoenix wingspread
But a step away, when time dismisses our sights
The northern wind blows my fantasies
It does, that the frozen south scare them to wither
Dear dream, let time solve the faults
Those, that have bewildered our stars.

I told the Stars,
My skepticism has gone astray
Beauties of their twinkles birth their paranoia
I will tell the airs to aid the growing dread
Then me, and doubt, would be of enmity road tread
But I shall soon love my skepticism again
When the moon comes, risen from its seething castle
The Star tales shall mock its shaming feathers of lightening
The moon will come, and me, and him, will form the future

I told the moon,
A little while, the grasses would be green and lively
When the green comes, and then the night, they would fight
The frailness of the moonlight, then the mockery; would glow
But I, would betray him; I would get swayed away with it
Then the stars would come, then the dreams, to jest and simper
Dear moon, we shall be ashamed. 

I told the sun
Hers is Arrogance but I, will disdain her
The threads of her rays, and the beams, yes
When the airs agree to my connivance, and waters
Soon, then she shall know my prejudice is benign
That her wings, shall detests her glowing hues
And the Moon, and the Stars, and yet the humbled Sun
We shall wake to Reality, together, sober stupor.

I told the Waters
Soon I shall smile, but only for maggots’ pleasure
It shall be borne of my decaying brittle bones
But before then, my foviers are untidy and my brows, heavy
They should purge them, that their hues be civilized again
That me, and them shall of accord be for mirth and pleasures
Hairs of my Hyde are weary of unending journeys
Now that their streams are cleanse, and their sources, thoughtful
I, shall be stupor of them
So i, before my memories speak of me, shall yet glow, like my peers
And me, and the sidereal dine in shining fame

We shall all taste of truthfulness and deceit would divorce us
So when our eyes, and paths, and tendencies are tutored
We shall, tend, where the existence keeps our fortune.

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®


Posted: June 5, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,

In no time, but none
I shall be not, but of memories remain
Mine ears shall not of defiance shun
For their connivance with the Archer shall gain
The lights’ enmity on my brow shall borne
When my cold feets of speechless voice calls
And my bloodstreams; of shyness freeze
Mine Foes’ mockery yearns of naught
That Friends’ pity springs to save naught
Mine mindless mind would melt
That mine, my thoughtless thoughts on their crest
Struggle whilst they make but of sterile breathe
In no time, but none
Far away, my steps shall be, far gone
I shall be sought, but nay, far and far away!
Then, mine, the lifeless log, shall whisper “Good Night”.

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®



So many rhythms we forgot to play
So many memories were arrogant
So many moments we hungered their sway
So many lives of gloom, mirth wine and dine

Whilst I, on my conscious heel, quest solace
The River did to me, unfairness; solemn
Morrow shall be, of relief to my soul
Albeit mulling, tensioned breathe crept mine brow

Oblivion! Callous thee! Thou knew my thoughts
Whilst thy comfort hands morn, howbeit bold
Tempestuous thy breathe blew nonchalantly
Our memories, this i speaks, shall yet rise

That these our moments, of  serenades’ melt
Mirth and gloom; thou wasted fairness for blues
Shall it be, tide basking in time’s anchor
This rhythm shall glow, down the riverside!!

(I miss you! I wish we could re-visit our gone times)

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®


Posted: February 13, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: ,


What shall I compare, of you, my damsel?
What? Or of what shall I of you match?
Your beauties-birthed attitudes are celestial
Beyond nature’s wings of treasures array
Your blinks glow than for earthly compare
If the precious I think, then I think naught
For long it has seemed their provenance dwells
In your doors, for your beauty; their solace
Rubies are the bloods that run your artery
Topaz hues your proud skins of winking lids
Your chalcedonic cornea: my sight’s glee
Pearls are your footings of royal treading
Emerald glow is your mind of flourish thoughts
Nature shall of you, thus keep being jealous
For none of its gems match your true glowing
Damsel! Your compare are nothing vainly.

Shall I now, Love, on your cherubic love dwell
Defined, Oh Is eternity on your rosed eyes
Forever, on your soft whispers, rhythms
This fragrance on your purple breathes are staunchness
For on their touches, sweet emotions kiss me
If your heart shall run down the Sahara
Feathers and follicles shall my wears be
For swift my foot will be till I find it
If the polar your heart shall be to dwell
Then my bloods will never of twice think it
For down the south they shall flow your artery
And the hypnotic me, fend on your voice
Your speaking smiles: my love’s assurance
As the sun never cease to shine in yellow
So shall my heart quest still to love you more…

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®

The Nightingale’s Croon

Posted: February 9, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: , ,


Love, shall my words, by your fair ears
Be of sincere attention acquire?
For my words have erupted up my lips
Deep from my marrows they have voyaged

I will breath your breathes, my love
For from the walls of my nostrils they form
They are the steams of my unsaid words
That navigates daily about my feelings

Your heart did kissed my lips fairly
Before she did, of my heart inhabit.
When the first kiss formed, I felt death
For sight formed of your beauty rays

Anger not, my dear, when my love seems dearth
For when you think me right of deceits
My lips are but comical
Not me, but your fond that intoxicates me

When you, love; my jesting spirit suspect
Count in naught. When this seems
My heart is too solemn for our conjugal
So it would birth a gladsome brow

I shall love you till the stars disdain the skies
Till the sun contempt, mock the roses
I shall love you till then, the airs weary to blow
For as daily the day breaks, you love becomes anew.

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®

The Sons Of Cyclone…

Posted: January 29, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,


Do you hear their silent whispers?
Their heartbeats are convulsive
Do you feel their jittery minds?
Upon the roaring podiums they breathe
The lands disdain their footing
The airs have spelled them of pleasure
The waters gladden of their dire thirst
Faded beauties of their hoping fortitude
Weary yellows of their supposed sun
Their stars shy to twinkle
Their moon fears to brighten
Their trusts swallowed by dread
The ember of their roses is faded
The radiance of their diamond; dull
The fertility of their nature now shames
No crimson to merry for droll
The graveyards garrulity yet gives no solace
They are the children of the nonchalant fathers
They were brewed from the careless mothers

Their bloods; the land soil’s ecru
Their dreams; the moon exhausted.

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®