Mountain Man

This is a selection from the “FREE-VERSE POETRY by Douglas Gilbert” Blog ( ). [ #poem #poetry #freeverse #Doug #verse #versely #Zawmbyee ] The site also contains “The blog of the caveman”…

Mountain Man
by Zawmb’yee Nuje

Mountain Man,
I have seen you soften
my love went fishing in your stream

and I have seen
in glistening glint and gush
the river on your face, and such.

I have seen you soften as
we harmonized the howling winds, and
softened moonlight’s omens much, so
cold could never bite our heat

You’ve seen me
wander in your forest where
the wind and water sing to me, but

You might know
you splash my soul
as kindly as an otter.

Could I tell you Mountain Man
I’ve seen you soften in your rain,
and in your brook

your cute little wiggle
makes my waters giggle.

Oh Mountain Man,
you rock me


Walking With Doug

This is a selection from the “FREE-VERSE POETRY by Douglas Gilbert” Blog ( ). [ #poem #poetry #freeverse #Doug #verse #versely #Zawmbyee ] The site also contains “The blog of the caveman”…

Walking With Doug
by Zawmb’yee Nuje

On a sunny sign day across the street
the sign said WALK ye
carefully, and we did
across the street into honking,
dodging the cars that trapped themselves
in intersections at change of light, we
swirling about a hot dog stand line, and
pushing our way where
pedestrian streams flowed
our way towards the park

I think we passed the building
with trees on every terrace, and
the buses faced us at every stop
their unloading commotions, their
boarding confused hordes
looking for cards and change

But mostly I didn’t notice if
there were gems in the din, or
new fashions in the store windows, no, mostly,
I listened to the music of Doug’s chatter because
I love the sound of his voice

it comforts me when I hear as I laugh
the song of his voice turning tender, and
I know he loves to be with me

when my word of acknowledgment
makes him smile and pause, I
know he loves me like the humming bird
loves the flower however fast the flutter of his wings
(but I would tell him he’s like a lion), and
I think perhaps I dress to be his nectar

Doug has seen my paint box and asks:
Could this be a Phtalocyanine Blue sky?

‘Huh what’ I wonder, an odd fact
could break a romantic spell
oh well, I laugh

He says, I mean:
it seems like a god has
lent you his brushes, and
you’ve painted my sky. Is it you
who paints my world?

No, I say, it is you who
shines on my tears, penetrates
the rainbow of my feelings and I show you
the canvas of the world as I see it. I look
in your eyes and pray they will see
every color that makes you happy and
if I would be on your palette, brush me

His hand brushed my cheek and touched my lips, but
we collided with a passerby who said, “Idiots!”
But we are not fools to be in love
flowing and in tune with a romantic moment

Doug kissed my hand and
we crashed into a hot dog stand

Doug said we’ll take two with sauerkraut.
Yes, two to go with the day.

The Frizz Of My Hair

This is a selection from the “FREE-VERSE POETRY by Douglas Gilbert” Blog ( ). [ #poem #poetry #freeverse #Doug #verse #versely #Zawmbyee ] The site also contains “The blog of the caveman”…

The Frizz Of My Hair
by Zawmb’yee Nuje

There has been
a maple syrup rain in my dreams
a downpour of sweet premises
a thick and sticky bane

I am soaked by the night,
but my day is dry
with dissertations and speeches

Applause is due me
but I sob in the morning dew

I try to never sleep, but
I see a baby in her arms.
She loves him as do I, and
he drowns in maple syrup rain.

I proclaim the sweetness of the faith
that all must obey, but

he has been my lover
a rebel
her baby
my baby
a blasphemer.

He’s been executed for
the sweetness of the faith.

I am soaked in downpours of blood
frazzled by the night and
I scream

cut like a maple tree
used and drained for sweetness


Libya (draft 3)

After the drone
of UN debate
remarks, delay

Remarkable, he,
Nicolas Sarkozy, sees
mad Gaddafi foam at Benghazi
by the light of the super moon and he
notifies Ban Ki-moon of deeds to come

Summon up the leagues of voices
Summon up the jets and
strike mad Gaddafi’s tanks
Yes! Indeed deeds come
gravely to victory
sad freedom late, hard
a cry

Remarkable at last, thank God
the French have arrived, and
the dither deaths can begin to cease,
though the dead of two weeks
lay in their graves unmarked
or hidden by dithering

A French plane strikes a tank.
There is hope.

—Douglas Gilbert

Zawmb’yee Nuje Continues The Blog, Chap 10, 123

Zawmb’yee Nuje Loses Control of the Blog


     Oh Kievifkwa, I don’t know if I’m unraveling in madness, or doing what is necessary. Our secrets must be protected at all costs, and there is a higher calling of patriotism for our culture, for our people. No, no, no. This can not be — I feel it. To betray my only love is infinitely more evil than to betray the State. Those grand plans of State are Machiavellian and I have fallen, have let them offer slow poisons to me like a Juliet, but worse, I have betrayed Doug, and it might be too late. You would have thought I would have delayed speaking to Gavicte Yenkoi, but I had ordered the Kutibea to ask him to come in to hear my treachery.
     Silly me, a child in borrowed robes, I had said to send in Gavicte Yenkoi. Foolish me. Treacherous me.
     “Yes, Fevepo Zawmb’yee, you wished to see me?” Yenkoi had said.
     “Gavicte Yenkoi, please prepare for me to sign, a death warrant for um…”
     “Yes, Fevepo Zawmb’yee?”
     So many sobs escaped from me and I sat down at a table near the reference section in the kngacev. So many tears dripped on my notes that the ink blurred on the paper buckled with evil dimples. Yenkoi stood in front of the books that were laid out like tombstones. But he merely lifted an eyebrow.
     Yenkoi began again, “Fevepo Zawmb’yee, your Majesty, High Priestess, how may I serve you?”
     “Gavicte Yenkoi, please prepare for me to sign, a death warrant for Doug…” and a full-throated cry broke out that echoed across the walls that mocked me.
     “Is it…”
     “You know who,” I screamed.
     “Fevepo Zawmb’yee, if I may, I will look up his full formal name and prepare the formal documents with orders to the security forces as needed for you to approve. Is this acceptable?”
     I got up from the table and turned my back on Yenkoi. I pulled books from the shelves and flung them across the room. I said, “Is this civilization? Does knowledge become weapon become death, become ignorance from compassion, rip out hearts, beat us down without a rhythm of love for filthy secrets, dirt. I am a filthy wretch…” I picked up a heavy book and tore out a page. “For this secret a life? For this I am powerful? This Fevepo, this Queen, who plays in mud, embraces this dirt, this warrant…” And I dripped on the table again.
     “My condolences, Fevepo Zawmb’yee. If I may inquire, respectfully, Fevepo Zawmb’yee, do you wish to proceed?”
     “Yes, Gavicte Yenkoi.”
     “May I …”
     “Just go. Go now. Go quickly. Jevkwyi!
     “Yes, Fevepo Zawmb’yee, as you wish, as you order.” He turned officiously and left.
     Thus the world will be rendered cold. It is in this Ice Age that with my unearthly weapons, I will rule. For those loyal, I will provide food, provide warmth. And yet, though ruler of hell, I am so cold, so bereft and lonely among both the nobles and the hordes, above and beneath them.
     So let it be that I’d be seized by…~ post terminated ~
[post terminated]
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Chapter 01 The Bloggy Diary of a Caveman

Chapter 02 Trapping Oral History

Chapter 03 Moving Days

Chapter 04 Moving Out

Chapter 05 Looking For Zusoiti

Chapter 06 Zawmb’yee Does the Blog

Chapter 07 Ziohat’s Blog

Chapter 08 Zawmb’yee Continues

Zawmb’yee Chapter 09

Zawmb’yee Chapter 10