A Shaman, A Visitor And The Night Children Poem by Gladden Scribbles

A Shaman, A Visitor And The Night Children


Father, father if it is rude to say,
My pain and how it sways
How have i you a mentor
That works not one, but an ancestral spirit narrator
And called not to think when I my woes report
Unto you to send over to port
It is fair not, hurt my woes!
As infant lads their darling desire woo.


In view, past then may i recall
A vulgar, an affable lad known all
But forbear me to say your state
A poor loving lad good till date
Yet, come to good I say,
It is fit if you could your tale repay
In fervent speech to the deities
Whom of ages have toiled yet never to extinct goes.


With much delight, I will sir
But gravely growls my maw, be fair
And treat me a good repast
Before I to my Odyssey invest


Ah! eat in this room?
Doom is hushed in repose, yes; none dare its loom
And still to your woes, remain fealty
Till your age earns you gaeity
But recount! my host
Take my words and come to dust.


Father sir, I was born
Some years back, one rainy morn
In yore where the mirth of a fall
Flows behind our darling hall
My darling ma, a great dancer she was
With friends many, so was pa an officer, a boss
Both had in delectation lived
And wished they had one to bed
But all their efforts seems futile
All hopes seems fragile;
Ten years was gone in there
And in solemnity dwells the pair
What many time could sanctum seem
What time had found her not to scream
To her creator, the holy divine
To honour her will, to bring her to lane
Long not I came into ma's maw
And first was father gladdened as he saw
My visage to earth embrace
Then so was ma, in her happier days
But when so I to life wept
Comes in a messenger to my father and left
A message from superiors which says ' we want you no more
Please for the time being, leave our office and care
None of our art, so it said
And next came that of mama's maid
As sent to her to deliver
'your absentia has caused our nobler men to scatter
'But when then find we another lady
'whom this art warmly know and ready
'any moment, that we have now in reinstatement come
And yes, they knew she was in labour's home
But hushed on the fact
And made sorrow her plight
'what ill is this? father said he muttered
'a blissful day call to gloom, said mother
Yet embraced them our fate
In struggles and in fatal gloom we ate
Though resented them—be me an ill
But to me was not such shown until,
I twenty reach, and the story retold;
'Bear us son, we have no source to uphold
'And it is not us, yet seems no man's action
'For before your existence, lived we in delectation
'Why to rosy wept? What bliss does she lost?
'She works and earn her gain, but not her lust
'For to her blissful be a family called
'When all glitters and a child in there breed
'But sky soars the bird, to no mortals destination known
'We you bore and this fate to us shown
'Yet bear we, and reinstatement through prayer sought
'And all to him know, be it not got.
'Please, said father 'leave us'
'And to this story bear us not a loss
'Fate, mother would call, 'this I named
'When our wealth for dearth displaced
'Come, she still would say, 'depart for wealth
'Long since your birth we have in dearth lived—seek us mirth
And what drop ensued in their falling days
'I must with your good parentage make you gay
I to them replied, and what grace inclined
To cater for my parent is such joy lined
Above marriage and all things of my thought
But grave this seem when I to no job got
Or found some which none a time settled
Yet I own no lass, for who will to an ill wed?
And in pang may I pass, I know, oh my aids!
How sorrow fond of them pained
Be my days as it goes
Father, father turn my tale, gladden my woes!


I smelt sorrow indeed
Let woes recount and such is fed
And be our darling soul, gone soul
Enchanted to be an answer to our foul
—Night brews the mummies cauldron
Such be soothing to their realm—living on
Controller they are, yet none can light this cauldron on
Mortals weary hours such they sways to call upon,
Morning miscreants, who to their dungeon had fallen
Evil, men called them do. yet men,
In their frailty their aid sought
Haters of beam, lovers of night
Come this night invoked, and grant my sight
This plight to know and for us fight.

Father, to me, speak of god's hush
and act, do not my fate punish

Maker of ray, the nature and the night gentle
In our sanctum heart bore of no feeble
Had through the mother profess
An instant solution to your dear mess
Yet so fixed in them how hurriedly
When sways the evil hour mostly
That your head be inclined and pain rinse
At that three squared junction
Where fairy mothers at night gaily meets.

So gay and grateful shall I be,
To have all my present come to describe
To my family of what sufferer I was
And give hope to distressed beings
for them to know life is volatile

Every man have a tale to tell
Yes, every man have a past to recall
But it is unfit in them to say
When to them arrives not the way.

fable to your say, there lived a man
an abject being—so fame his clan
A peasant farmer was he, yet perfect
and brilliant among his tilling set
he had a son, so died the bearer,
after his birth—of nurture dread wearier
and the infant by fate survived on little food
grew up to a tender age. yet his dude
worried and solemn for his state;
pined and died—so such was fate
and the sufferer aggrieved by his death
wept for months and knew no mirth
till one day when the cries had died down
within the farmers all and the town;
there came a gentle knock on the sufferer's door
'open' called the farmer's friend whom too was poor
with a family of four the spouse and children three,
and lived in a home where at front dwells an oak tree
resenter of all vices, they the farmer named
but in poorness count him firm, so famed
and he, whom the boy wished to free
from the yoke of life what we do see
sought the sufferer to his house
where dwells his hot—tempered spouse
whom may with no cause of life,
threatens the sufferer's life
and the sufferer knew it was only the woman
to whom his grouse lies, not the affable kids nor the man
then when felt he the contempt much,
abscond he her home in liveliness search
that you may meet and thought one a roving bird
that you may read in verses and tales of bards
but in description of poverty's mirth
of how it stayed since his birth
till one day wearied from his trek
he arrived home. dismayed to found all wrecked
yet to him had been nature must
of tears which he then could not resist
and often he began to beg for his daily repast.
but one summer morn he got inspired
in his roving was a farm neatly arranged
then he dazzled by the farm's beauty
cried aloud, 'strive earns beauty!
the farmer heard, the labourers listened
and farmer brown of that statement was delighted
and said 'there my child, it is truth you have spoken
'hard work earns us beauty not luck
'here, he said, have these seeds
and achieve your dreams in labour, not of greed
the sufferer then learned the art
from the farmer and came back to his part
where dwells his father's tools and farm
here God I come, he said. 'bear me no harm.
till month went past month came by
he had reaped his labour once and thereby
one Saturday eve he make ridges again
and his hoe struck something beneath so rough—not plain
then he dug up, father, and met his fame
and till now he..…......

Hold there, my child
Time is fame, observe it charges wild
I hear it ticks, let it be time
To venture on what we took prime

Take me, take me to my glory
And let it today be a story;
Reveal to me the right appease
So emollient an atonement to please
Tell my lord, my heart leaps!
For joy, then I may weep

There behold the still calabash,
Lift a while gentle, sever rash
And fret not placing the amulet
On your delighted neck and let,
In walk your passion connect
For your fate you shall expect

—and now to the junction we have come
Upon the dreadful Lane where no initiate dearest come
And to you, take a kneel and incline
Your fate to begin! all the work of divine

I see, I see

My man may know but now must
When done invoke, the wick the most
From the lighted candles aim the fire
And blow off life's pressure
That for fame may you repent.

—All things in life are vain
All lives in vain is pain
And all lives in gain is plain
But all vain without gain is ruin
All these are to you known
All I know are to you shown
For my sight are your own
And through your aids I have grown

—Hun, hun, hun, hun
Oh fays! Listen to our tone
Hun, hun, hun, hun
Through the night we come for boon
Hun, hun, hun, hun
Forbear not our fun
Hun, hun, hun, Hun
And our grace do not shun!
Hun, hun, hun, Hun

—Destiny prevails over all happenings
Either good or bad, bear the liking
But o God! to achieve any goal
In life by an abject soul without sou
Is only known to your divinity
How steer the soul in scarcity
Yes, this sufferer suffered, your Lordship knew
His fate so rare in kind, his stay almost few
But hear our utterances all and decrease
Oh fairy mothers this mess to cease!

—Come to this state, come!
Darken the wick, then overcome
Life's laborious tale with ease
And hence open your heart for peace
For all is done, all is done
And your plights, all are gone, all are gone
But set afar and feel the silent night
I felt a breeze so cold as death.

I have blown the wick
I have abscond being weak
And today forbade my woes
Through your aid, through your aid. Father it goes!
Oh heaven! Hear my joy
And to you I dance like a boy

Cease, cease awhile your leap!
And hush to the night's weep
I hear a whisper........the night children?

Daring wicked night,
Scaring fretful sight
Dear lovely night, you are my light
Your brows are my sights
Your hours makes things right
Your power gives me strength

—Take, take afar your sight
You scavengers of night
I see fortune bright
And will you not cease your delight?

Be not mine, I pray
Grave regrets after one night at the cabaret
I will be no child to folly
Or consent to your prank gaily

Folly died, rebirth in wisdom
But this seems real, there, I can see a form
My dearest dean,
Shall we earn our means?

Ah! now do i see
Some dreary figures if I can really see
Oh father! My heart is sick
Shall we flee from this scene?

Hahahaha—no mortal bore of human
Nor sylphic power can drive me to where i began
For I was a weakling in time past
Born in the art of an old enthusiast
Who wiped away my dreary days
When I was a teen in my mother's days
Then would I his life's delight recede
And live compunctious of my deed?
No! The night may be cold
But its chilly spell is meeting the bold
Burning in the art that tells about us.

Father here they are!

Give to me all your things mates
And I will resist the spirit of hate
Or ever you hear the night sing
When darkness is forming?

Yes, you can hear his cry
If I am not being a pry
Give us to ease our needful minds
And be free from the evils of mankind

Peace, peace my friends
Let's not in this contend;
By the look to tell things
You can see we are here for something
Yes, the fate of a mate
Drive me to this very state
And that we have nothing from here,
Accept our pleadings and take my words dear.

Now, now like I had known
Some idiots to misery grown
May deny me my passion
If I choose to hold my discretion;
But how so hurriedly you have transgressed
Our lulling law as earlier said;
And now you are bound for history
For our heart is shut for sorries.

—My Lord, tell us to play them
The sweet song of mayhem
That by tomorrow
Their household would be sunken in sorrow.

Father, has all not come to an end?
O redemption! Where is your empathic hand
In this distressed hour
Deigned by evil power
O redemption! Where is your soul?
If you are on a desirous goal,
Come to me right away
And take me away!

—O honoured sires, we came for redemption
Spare us the ill of our discretion
And bear our being here as nothing
That will fetch you nothing
But let us bear this night
Precious in all our sight
Through the sorrow sent out
As our joy, like we had sought.

—This man you see is an author with authority
Versed in the scribbling of man's tranquility
Who has erased my sorrow's story
That in times may I welcome my glory
Gently in this world of vain
Where life had bred me in pain;
And believe every words of his
Being an advocate of peace

Recount the words, renounce your souls
To whichever soul is born to console
O man of much strife!
Have you so seen much the miseries of life
Than this standing before you?
A son, born in much ado
Raised by a demented, dying mother
Who fed me with wastes, while the world mock her
With no pity look of her state
That by those food I might become late.
O vile is this world,
That saw those that rid my mother's world
All In the name of wealth
That defines one's worth
In this carnal world of living;
So, when I too thought life's doings
I decided to live by the cry of men
Selling parts to those who pays in ten.

Now that you have heard
The cause of death on your heads
May you die in peace
As an advocate of peace
Will, let us strike!

Nocturnal birds, tragic tone on treetops
Diurnal birds, deflecting delight at dawn
Dwellers of night are in night grown
Natives of dawn are in dawn breed
Some sons sought to know this creed
They were born in the light
They set forth at night
Fearless they seem,
When they reach a stream
Nymphs flying in the air
Again, they seems not to fear
Hawks hooting on trees
Beasts howling in spree;
Again they seem not afraid
But soon as they bade
Goodbye to the scary scenes;
From no visible beings
Sounded a lulling tone
Like a woman's intone:

'Sunny sons snores at night
'hiding from the night's scary sight
'gloomy sons fears daylight
'for what men say they do is not right
'no weakling with no might
'excecpt those with night's right
'dare walks in the night's light
'with no cause of night's fright
'so sleep, son of light, sleep
'and 'SLEEP!

Ah! they are falling
Father, they are sleeping!
But one is still standing

Cauldron of fire, burning desires
Cauldron of water, cooling fire
Come with your force
And break this enchanting force
Come to my aids, fairy mothers
And make me your minister
That this shaman may know
I belong to your show
And in your art I have grown
To teach unthankful mortals.... your own,
Wrath when they defies your law
More gracious than that they ever saw.

—SHAMAN! You are doomed!

Abomination! Sickle of death,
Reaper of man's breath
Misty sky,
Man's final bye
What a loony man would duel with death
What a folly act to seek wealth in death;
What a vain is this world of pain
Where men diverts from their fated lane
I know my lane, so I dined with death
He knows my name when I seek his strength
I sought his wave,
He bade my foes to grave
They doubted death's hand
He shoved them around
Death winked at their might
And gave ground its delight
Death is the end of wealth
As it is the end of birth
Killing is death's mirth
Be you in wealth or dearth
Death is blithe of health
But deal with age fated length;
O dreary death!
I sought your strength
That I may tell my foe
You are life's fatal blow
And with just a word
Let me my enemy's deed reward
By your formal bye
Which is 'DIE!

.......ahhh! ...death, lay not....your hands...... on...me
I am.......not......due...of time
..please recede....
Aaand ask....your Lord...to forgive...my, my deeds
.....that...this pain...will for my sins...suffice.

Wicked hearts act their art
Unmindful that there is a part,
More grave than every part in this earth
A part where all living shall depart
That there would be no more act
But of a path,
Serving as life's aftermath
Where we shall split by our act;

—sing to your self victorious song, visitor
And light a candle of thanks to your creator
That has saved you from life's heat
And bring you to your wonted seat.

My song,
Needs no ding
My happy heart
The words I intend to say,
This very day.
But o father, your bravery will forever be remembered
As a shaman that brought peace and graced
The book and pages of my life
That has once been filled with strife.
A tale I will someday tell my children

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