Still Your Prisoner

I made new friends

I found new trends

But my heart still lingers

Within the circle of influence

Where I'm prisoner

Of your love

Caught up in the sticky webs

of your embrace -

warm

surreal

I attempt jailbreak

to flirt

to steal kisses

from dames down the street...

But the moon soon becomes noon

Before my plans awake.

Like a loyal dog

My heart you pull

Down into this lily dotted pool

Of cherished togetherness.

I am yours

yours to possess

like a precious stones in a treasure chest.

Dusk to dawn

Winter to autumn

Still your prisoner

Still your dream man

The ideal catch

Hooked by your line and sinker

Fished

And waiting to be dished,

Spiced and delicious

to be dined upon

by your tender wetness

munched

grind

yours

ever

#Pengician

#SSA

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Fiction | The Tripod Effect

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Letter To My Son

Dear Son Try to forget that nothing waits in the dark, raise your shoulder high wave off the frea and step into that lane. Won't you rather be gone in there than stay out here playing the coward? Get up now, son everyone falls. #Pengician #SSA http://bit.ly/2haEhoj

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....

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