Featured Poem: Timeless Love

Featured Poem: Timeless Love - by Martins Deep

I fear to tell you

Why I go to the dark cave every evening.

If you must know

Its because she that my soul loves is a dragon.

A wild beast.

She devours my fears.

She invades my mind and dispels

My doubts.

She dethrones my ego

And breaks the walls of hate.

She sinks the ships of depression

I surrendered as she broke down my gates.

She has taken the empire of my soul.

Can you find her kind

In the book of animals?

She haunts the cities

Of my painful past

And brings to me spoils.

Wisdoms.

She is not beautiful?

Your eyes will never tell you she is.

Her beauty is not given for the eyes to behold.

Your eyes will lie to you.

She breathes fire; I burn.

She beats my pen into a sword; I conquer.

She is not among the daughters

That go down to the stream

With earthen pots to draw water.

She is wingless

Without the poetry

My heartbeats recites.

My whispers is the wind

She glides in.

I sail in her tears

To lands eagles have not seen.

My ink is the only wine she drinks.

She lies drunk in my arms

and that's when you find me here.

Do not frown at this slave I have become

O do not!

For I'm lost to a love

So beyond words.

There is no return.

Seek me not

You will never find me

tracing my footprints on the sands.

Footprints can only be found

on the sands of time.

The realm in her

arms is timeless.

Comments

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies" "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

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....

Jaachi Writes

Search This Blog