When we meet

This is a free flow piece which was strictly inspired by poetry in a chat room

It's awkward...we meet every week..
At the same place..planned by the event...
and the silent ellipses accumulates..nestles in the warmth of our rib                                   
A prison... I'd give my life ransom, even for my worst enemy                                         
A wish... I hope I didn't have to make...but its how much I'm prepared to give when I see you
I spoke... but my tongue waved the passion of my words back                  
And it's hard to swallow them... again...the fight feels like a dull dagger through my gleaming soul.         
The dullness hurts and tears...and leaves an oozing gash...
And if I had to choose; it would be the lesser of two evils                                 
If death... let it be quickly, painlessly                                                                                                       i     i wished... we sat close...just once
maybe serendipity will show up in a mini red dress...                                 
 I hope...she does... when we meet.

Will

The last reference I've made with nature was a past love
Now that love has broken...
And... I'm on the sail again;tasting the exciting splash of frisky raindrops
And now, with the memory of poetry and moonshine 

Now with the reality of handsome hands kissing every beat of my heart...
To function...
To survive...
To open....
I'm appalled...
Like, a featherless bird that fell from the nest to the floor
To be satisfied and sufficient with the surgeon of your soul
Your beautiful, luminous spirit

Blowing  puffs of air ...as what a child would do... to a balloon
You innocently, obliviously...giving it the power to eventually ascend for the world to know
And in its innocence; there's a flame of sincerity
This is what you do...

Oblivious... to the intimacy with which this rescue creates
Innocent... to the lip of your persona only inches away from the cheek of my gratitude

Innocent to the turn of my face to you
Giving reality a pen
And she's saying:                               
as we breathe and stare into each other's eyes
As we draw closer...to each other...
My pen is praying...with my heart

Please, don't make me choose

Simply, I hate to lose you
My spiritual mate
We've cushioned the fall of emotions
We've listened and nursed the harshness of events

Don't make me choose your lips and lose a heart...my heart
Lips which are the temporary in exchange for the permanent
Trust...that is cemented
If you shatter this cement..you'll shatter me
I will fight for you...as you are for me
I feel for you...as you do me
But you must know...like your spirit which is bandage to my wound
Our pure spirits are platelets to a laceration called weakness 
Pure spirits which is a leveled yolk
Keys to a sober, untainted and unquenchable love

The Christmas poem

The Mistletoe hangs with its own memory of Christmas and the radiant green, represents the cycle of seasons relived..seasons which swell each droplet of dew that drip from Christmas trees on Christmas eve

And the merriment identifies with snow cones and kids, as the red and white delights Santa's bag of gifts

And we think of pot roast chicken with extra sauce, Ginger beer, Cheese snips, Pepper pot and Garlic Pork with a kick !
As the Season's tidings combay  a cascade of creative happenings
We hit and break glasses as the noise mounts with bottles of rum!
Rolling with laughter and diving for treats only to find none! 

Each fairy lit scene overflows into another as the days count down
and  trees rise up with....the suspense of tiny strings
 
And so with these memories we cook, we clean and we greet strangers anew
Gather in carolling to sing hymns about the  peace and happiness this season brings
And this random choir welcomes the spirit of our King: the reason for the overflow of joy and well wishing   
But,  like the putty that's smeared in the cracks and creases we choose to notice now in our houses
We melt...we melt at the core..which we often try to cover up with fancy blouses
Peace... sends our hearts roaming for a soft fill of memories we once neglected and...when found, we laugh or present it with a gift
Then, we choose to keep this awesome glory, by holding hands, calling up and hugging

And...as the aroma of ham shrivel our noses, churn our stomachs and  stir the excitement of an imminent feast,
Even as the decor sits on the summit of our clothing and our doors they colourfully, gracefully hang!                                         
The presence...the presence of friends and family will always harness the reign.. of Christ's beautiful birthing!

Common Equals

Would it be different?....tell me.         
Would it be different now?!           
Rowing on the rough river of fond memories with a paddle that knew no sorrow?                                      a As souls that knew no end?
"Tomorrow is a promise to no one, so live like its your last!" They say.
I'm rubbing against the board of reality:
Pungent and friendly
Like the Tailor who swipes sleep with a crisp blue bill
I refuse... to frill the oriental draperies of my happiness to perfume your feet and decorate your motives.                                           

As we lock the maturity of a memory brewed now...
Understand a new seed has sown...
Understand that....as I cup your face with half swollen fingers
And press my lips against your cheek:
Accept my wishes and be free
Than to ignore them and your curiosity will rot your masculinity
When we cross paths...let there, too, be a common wind of closure
As we are common spirits taking a sober departure

Random Cafe

Wonderful inspiration; common experience!
based on a real scene!


Round rough nose, slippers as worn as his hands
Hands, which if detached, will be as  monstrous as skeletons in the closet which can be reciprocated for his character but  his wisdom lends things anew.
Only a few possess...only a few possess his humility. Like a child. A mature yet idle child...sticking his huge fingers in glue...
to which he applies to story books neatly stacked at either side of his hands but singly removed...as if with some intent to care but smothers glue skilfully.
I watched him... continue... as if his calling was to be the unusual artist he is...shirt brown and long sleeved to camouflage  the rust of his calves at the wrists.
He glanced... in my direction for a while...with eyes that were meaningless.
He doesn't know that I'll have this record of history...
In the scaffold of my bosom wherever I go..
He doesn't know that his grandchildren, had he been a sane man, would identify and fit to this chapter of his life...
He doesn't know that the bags sitting at his feet would have evolved spaces in time to accommodate other sentiments of future pasts..

Eagles Wings

My inspiration and impression for this poem was awe-some!. Wrote it as swiftly as it came to me.

Chorus:

Be the umbrella of my worship (repeat)

Shelter me with your presence

Then consume me with your grace

Fall… in this place

Meet… in your grace (your grace, your grace, your grace)

Faith has brought us through the tide

The tide that overlaps into every season

And in every season we were covered

And in every season we were transformed

In every season we were pregnant of purpose

But in every season did we deliver?

There must have been someone that kept us

There must have been someone that propelled us

Out, beyond and above every situation

And weren’t we overwhelmed?

Weren’t we strengthened?

Weren’t we mounted on new wings?

Weren’t there testimonies?

Listen to the voice within

the voice of instruction and introspection

For greater heights,

For greater purpose,

For greater battles

For greater worship

For greater triumphs

(Repeat the chorus)

You’re the captain of my worship

You’re the captain of my praise...

We have the inheritance of favour

From the king: Jesus

No time to quiver, no time to waver, or blaspheme

We are redeemed by his precious blood

And for all sicknesses or strongholds it is the cure

(Chorus)

For this reason we are created

Even at the fore of broken thredders, at the plank of drenched dreams,

at the grave of sacrifices

God has a much higher calling for us

To rise up in him to make the difference

If only we realize the potential within

to activate the faith and spread our wings

Chorus

Be the umbrella of my worship (repeat)

Shelter me with your presence

Consume me with your grace

Fall… in this place

Meet... in your grace (your grace, your grace, your grace)

Motherhood

                                                    

To all mothers far and near

aspiring and….. in care

I hope you lend a listening ear

To…these words, these adjectives… this emotive flare

which cannot begin to express your love… unconditional

Even as I’m here I ask your permission to share

my immature understanding of your love and devotion

Your love is like: the breeze, untainted….. abundant, and all encompassing

Like a stream: ever flowing and soothing to every organism on earth

you birth a testimony

From the orphan to the handicap

From the abandoned to the homeless

From the hopeless to the fearless

It matters when you speak a word to calm our fears

It matters when you hold our hands and dry our tears

Even matters when you clean our room and box our ears

But even as a child my immaturity didn’t lend the reason you defend my childhood,

my womanhood……and yes, my motherhood

And for those men: manhood and fatherhood

You are a Queen…and from your wisdom we can face the struggles, we can the fight the fight, we can embrace the victory!

You give your all still when we fall

With those words you scold “you mould your destiny!”

To those women who lost

For it was Mary who cried and led the days in misery

As her son JESUS CHRIST paid the cost at Calvary…

your strength remains a mystery

because even after death

She cured…his body

To those women who heal because of healing

You pave the path for strong women in history…

Esther, Mary Magdalene and Niomi

Apostles, Pastors and Ministers

Just know that we need you

From a word to a hug

We bless you

And your words when spoken

Mends…. the broken hearted

and so this is

To…..Those mothers who sacrifice their worth

Fetching the burden of pass regrets and present hurts

We love you!….and if you mess up, God loves you!…. it’s not too late!

To clean up and make up

Dress up and wake up to a life renewed

But so often you are judged and your loved ones don’t care

But God removes the smear…. Of poverty, pride, vanity, calamity,

all strongholds and your future he holds, dearly

To the pinnacle because he knows that you are miracle

To all women with or without

To all women abused and delinquent

To all siblings who are mothers

To those fathers who are mothers

To those mothers who are fathers

i pray that these words

Swell your happiness

And Feed your strength

To keep on!..Keeping on

Best Friend (T.H.E.O)

(The piano plays with... a soft blend of the harp)


His footsteps exhaust familiar... tracks


To and fro he wanders and travels to relive....


Memories of dried leaves, rough bark that wears... scars and scratches of a cub’s....


Of..... a bear”s






(The piano plays, soft sobs, tender strokes of moist fur)






To warm hearts and welcome memories


They danced in a mind’s circus: fierce wheels


Memories of sharp paws on clean suits,


Walks just before heaven’s gleam seals






The piano plays ever so softly


With a fading harmony (orchestrated harmony)






the moon’s bliss, train tracks now rusty


And blizzards....autumn






A man’s best friend: Hachik


Retracing his master’s steps touching with life


Beneath soiled daisies


For after a while comes the rescue form a tedious tarry






Like a dove, to remind a deserving friend


imprints of love.... that may never end

"Peas in a Pod"

In the dark

a... single beam shines brightest

at the mouth of the tunnel

the hand is anaemic

The glass is almost full and...senses,

The drop of a fresh flavour

Rings that sink at the juncture

Rings that summon your aim

To stare at you it’s hardly the same

motto

Monochrome: we’ve found a colour to match a voice

Fingers are moist...from the absence of friendship

And the invitation for intimacy

My mind unravels with yours

New revelation still abhors

But sprouts spores of truth and reality

It’s not a dream that in less time

You know my life

And add to it.....meaningfully

Are we meant to be?

I know your ways

Why can’t you see that....you host a tongue

to praise?

Only His consent is necessary....

Like the enigma you are

I hope this journey clears... the scars...

......of prejudice.....

Like the enigma you are

I hope... this journey... carries us far...

lone soldier

Life complicates sometimes the steps of a traveller

Beckoning the name of the lone soldier

Who fights in fear and hope that

the experience completes a depleted soul

who holds... the shoulder that slouch to reality

and raises the head that hangs to the floor, catches

the tear that boils on sun cracked soil

and patches the wheel that punctures on

a ride of turmoil

Who is the lone soldier?

Is it the feet that blisters on careless tracks

and suffers timid minds to lies and

... scorn?

The child without dreams still buries its head in soft feathers?

The criminal attempting to fill the hollow with bodies and bid his soul free?

The glamour and glee of a homeless vagrant?

Or is it the poet that writes without impulse

But reads to ignite the inevitable

As wings spread to fly....

the social instinct kicks in

Win the fight with heart and might

For.....the thought alone thaws....the cold

And animate the reflection that serves two fold

Who is the lone soldier now?

In times like these

In times like these I live with cuts and bruises that are healed with the truth of sweet verses that nurses and inspires

And reaffirm the right, the God-given right to the skin I wear...

the skin I’m in...

Falling to the floor is the mask I wear...the clothing without slave imprints to tell who i am

Falling... is the mind that is programmed for the western stage

I drop all stereotypes and upheavals and lies about my roots’ struggles and
lies... about ....my faith

To ashes I’ll watch the blaze of hate

In times like these I inhale the incense that burn,

and move to the rhythm of drums and hum to the melody of a new morn

In these times I marvel in gleam of colour, and allow my voice to release the tentacles of prose to weave the fraying fibres of self and heighten minds and

souls to unleash the spiritual being within....

In times like these i plug my ears and flip....
off the board to plunge and be baptised

Once again... to wash, to cleanse, to cure, to love, to embrace

The woman I’m destined to be...

I hope by now you can see... that with....... poetry by my side

I am free....

I want a love

I want a love that tosses me head over heels and under

One that is written in novels and drowns my troubles

And sets my thoughts in tune with the rhythm of my partner

One that is painless, boundless, fearless and sober

I want a love that would make me laugh....on any note and anywhere...and cry

Cry a river flow of happiness and joy

A love that shows and glows from my hair follicles to my toe nails

I want a love that is protected and respected

One that shows hope of a silver lining even when all that surrounds is a dark cloud

Like the shimmer of moon shine on timid ocean waves or the incense of fragrant candles that entices the senses even.... at... a.... stunted.... crooked.. end

 I want a love that is real...a love that heals and cures.... heals and cures...heals and cures  when my thoughts... are in a mess

Without condition and bitterness

Only the wild, secure tumble of volcanic emotion

And through my pen should trickle verses of insight

A love that is right

Build me new wings to fly so at times when I can’t walk I’ll soar to the sky

A love that is instinctive, addictive and faithful

A love that makes music out of consonants.... (Hummmmmm............ Jill Scott)

As the slow rhythmic beat of the drum sink into the melody of soft strings.... on a

Spanish Guitar and.... the harmony of an old polished flute....

I want a love that is equal

For even as we’re mute and even as we sleep

our hearts must beat to the heat of a song........... Eternal