Skip to main content

You Alone

POEM 30: YOU ALONE

...and if my heart is water, 
You alone shall drink it.

...and if my heart is butter,
You alone shall spread it.

...and if my heart is poetry
You alone shall understand it.

...and if my heart is life
You alone shall live it.

..and if my heart were a postcard
You alone shall receive it.

...and if my heart is God.
You alone shall worship it.

...and if my heart is a crown
You alone shall wear it.

...and if my heart is a throne
You alone shall sit on it.

...and if my heart is a body
You alone shall posses it.

...and if my heart is a drum
You alone shall beat it.

...and if my heart is a script
You alone shall act it

...and if my heart is honey
You alone shall eat it.

...and if my heart is a you
You alone shall know it

..and if my heart is heartless
You alone can soften it.

...and if my heart is a sickness
You alone can heal it.

...and if my heart is weed
You alone can smoke it

....and if my heart is a sea
You alone can swim it.

....and if my heart is a ship
You alone can sail it.

....and if my heart is nothing
You alone can create it.

...and if my heart is love
You alone shall own it.

...and if my heart is a sacrifice
You alone shall savour it

...and if my heart is heaven
You alone shall make it

...and if my heart is a house
You'd be home




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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....