Skip to main content

As The Candles Go Out | Martins Deep

As The Candles Go Out - Martins Deep
As The Candles Go Out


As the candles go out
and nightfall comes ambling by with
the haunting scent of the monsters in your nightmares
When I'm too far away to save your ears from the lashing thoughts of a hard day breathe. 

Dream without caution.


When the fragrance of flora fades
at the sacred place by the stream where our hearts
climb up the loftiest vaults
with scarred backs breaking under totes full of dreams
Feel for my prints on your skin
like spells to drive away depression.

Would you write a letter that will never reach the Post Office
telling how your heart is a mad rainmaker calling clouds to burst from your eyes
flooding over what cries for your breast aside me?
Would the child in you find a cradle between the lines of my poetry
for the cold night?

Light years is a light thing
for the flight of souls
seeking to make a whole
Imagination is a winged chariot
that wants to show you the holes in time.

Touch me through the wisps of smoke

from my poems that never made it to your heart
with those fingers that plucks the strings in the heart of God
Sigh and it will reach me as the evening breeze
Let me walk into your room
telling tales of the thirsty hart
running from the Sahara
to the Zambezi.

Cry- let it drizzle
I'll smile and it will be sunshine in the rain
We'll paint beauty as a mermaid
half the ugly the eyes can see
and the beauty the heart cannot embrace

I'll be here in your there
Do not let the walls keep you
Flutter on with your soul weeping
"I can't stand the winter any longer away from the fire in your heart"

Put on your red gown
Play the jazz tapes on the radio
Let memories attend you on the tomb of doubt
whether I miss home in your arms
Then fall asleep on our photo album
while I comb your hair in my mind.

- Martins Deep

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

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

shy, a poem

bashful, timid, quiet.  shy If anyone you know has used these terms to describe you, you're probably a bit shy. Everyone feels that way once in a while. Shyness and social anxiety are common, no matter how old you are. There is one myth about social anxiety and social anxiety disorder that I would like to dispel. The myth says that social anxiety is just exaggerated shyness. This myth encourages the idea that anxious people are merely weak-willed pushovers. It is partially because of this myth, I think, that well-intentioned people offer the relevant but insensitive and patronizing advice like, “Don’t worry about it!” , “Just do it” and “Face your fears.”  Thinking on all these, I wrote this poem: shy when a shy person speaks, it's like music from guitar strings. when a shy person smiles, it’s like the sun coming out when a shy person steps out it's like the uncommon visit of gods when a shy person reclines it feels like moon eloped from night when a shy person is 'i

Dustbin And Drafts - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 142: DUSTBIN AND DRAFTS He was the night sky, She was a star, Always together, Never one. He wrote what he felt for her of how her twinkles light up his dark. But they never get to her. One more note was added in his drafts. Fragrant pens and beautiful poems Pink papers and artistic handwriting. She wrote about the beauty in his black of how they make her twinkles shine. but they never got to him. Only the dustbin knows how much she loves him - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends.  Thank you!

For Leah Shabiru - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 136: FOR LEAH SHABIRU I can't find the words right To describe Leah's plight. I hope this little piece of mine Awakens our voiceless unconcern. Does she feel giddy? Does she still cry? Does she look out the window and heave a sigh? How long shall this gravity Hold her down to these rascals? I know she kicks but in vain I know she whispers prayers to her God Or maybe she now doubts his existence. Does she wish her breathe be gone? But she's just a teenager Who dreamt of leaving her deadbeat town One day she went to chase dreams The next she was never found Sunrise and sunset have come and gone and Leah is still in the devil's lair. You and I, we eat, we sleep She's not our own, we care not a bit Until same fate cross our path Trample our wives And rip our hearts Only then shall we realize in Leah died our very soul. - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends