Lights Out - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

LIGHTS OUT

Prologue:

The Cinema was set

new movie, we're both excited

to be casts and scriptwriters

We cuddled and relished this movie

Scene One:

Strangers crossed paths

but couldn't just pass.

She winked and waved

and stole your breath.

You stopped to stare

and gasp for air.

Butterflies,

Spark of lights.

Scene Two:

On a parched wasteland

you laid the foundation.

With broken bricks

you built erotic walls.

'My this'- then kisses

'My that'- then cloud nine.

'My everything'- you both lied.

Scene Three:

Stranger on your bed

You wonder how you met.

You were too busy being hers

to fall for someone new

Maybe you never knew

twil hurt this much to be hers.

Scene Four:

Today your forest is dark

The trees are sad

and all the butterflies

have broken wings.

Epilogue:

Two by two, they all filed in

all shades of 'forever yours'.

But when the movie came to an end

they crawl on all fours unpaired;

she takes the right

he owns the wrong.

No sweet songs from the Nightingale

Not all love tales happy-ever-after ends.

Lights out!

#365DaysOfPoetry

#Pengician

#SSA

Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends.

Thank you.

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