Skip to main content

How a Shy Boy Woos a Loud Girl


how a shy boy woos a loud girl



because he lives in a world of flippant tongues

and itchy ears, a shy boy tucks in his voice
and learns to speak in the language of silence

...until love came tapping on his door
she reeled out her tales like s seasoned orator;
he replied in the language of the rain drops

she sung a song in pitches soprano high;
he whispered in the language of the flowers, 
teaching her nostrils the music of fragrance

she chanted her desires like a voodoo priestess
swinging her hips in sync with her lips;
he whistled 'I love you' in the melody birds
floating in the language of the morning breeze

she moans a thousand words from dawn to dusk
she talks, she talks, she never stops;
he gestures to the of the ocean's waves,
expressing his in aqua language

with many words she expressed love
to this shy and silent boy;
he spoke to her with eye contact, 
and expressed his with hearty smiles.

#Pengician #SSA





Enjoyed reading? 
Please leave a comment and share with friends. Thank you! 

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

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener  pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold  patriotis...