Pasomi Mucha

Pasomi Mucha Poems

Tell me how the boot tastes
O liker of, licker of boss-boots,
You who sullies the raise in praise,
Who puts the vile into servile,
...

May the day break,
not as the eggshell of
a slipped, fallen egg,
a smashed, sorry mess,
...

I met you, and now in my eye is a gleam,
And in my life now joy is a stream,
Awake and asleep alike, I dream,
Help me, O Lord,
...

Love.

What is it?
...

Let me ask in plain language,
So that we do not say,
I missed your query in the craft of your poesy.
...

Hie home, humble, hardy hummingbird,
Bearing blemishes born by bloody batterings, bullyings, bludgeonings.

Crude, cruel contrivers canvassing-for, creating concrete commons,
...

Closed were my closets,
Solidly were they secured,
For within were warehoused,
My skeletons,
...

Mmmm...
Keep sitting in your comfort zone,
Afraid of any unknown,
Afraid to try,
...

So, what's the colour of your love?
The earth brown where the love-seed fell and grew to a luxuriance of flowers, sweetness of fruit?
The blood red of hearts beating a vibrant tattoo consonant with true love?
The muddy, moss green of love sullied by possessive, obsessive jealousy?
...

To the man who, sadly, daily thinks,
That he, on earth, is of little worth,
With that thought, his spirit sinks,
And with other men, he loses links,
...

The skies are in labour,
Rumbles at a distance
are groans of labour pains,
May the water break.
...

Do not value yourself
too highly in someone's eyes,
Neither undervalue yourself.
For you may go through life,
...

A̲ L̲i̲t̲t̲l̲e̲ M̲o̲r̲e̲ M̲e̲ 🫂

Something cracked in me.
...

Pasomi Mucha Biography

Teacher of English, writer.)

The Best Poem Of Pasomi Mucha

Sycophanta

Tell me how the boot tastes
O liker of, licker of boss-boots,
You who sullies the raise in praise,
Who puts the vile into servile,
Who is given to high pitched praise
Defying the flat in flattery.

Tell me how the boot tastes
O liker of, licker of boss-boots
Spewer of smoothly false extolments
That put the grating into ingratiating
Whose fawning obedience
Puts the art into artificial.

Tell me how the boot tastes
O liker of, licker of boss-boots
Who makes mortals vulnerable
Stripping their defence as you de-fence them
With sincere lies before big-persons
Appending sin to sincerity
A scorching sycophant
Shameful yet shameless.

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