On your 450th: to the Bard

To the man who cheered my childhood idleness

When want of money seized the Mario Bros from me.

To the man who planted in me the seed of madness

To string words like multi-coloured beads to see

Some hidden truth, to say some itchy sadness,

To display the velvet waves of a grassy plane in some wilderness.

 

I remember “Et tu Brute” impressed on that page

Of beautiful poetry you wove into a thickening web.

Enthralled by this beauty, the Muse had me in a cage

And soon out of my own tottering pen, I would be a deb.

The Sonnets, Othello, Twelfth Night, Hamlet: my pleasant voyage

Into the Land of Words till sunlight to the horizon would ebb.

 

To the Bard of Stratford-upon-Avon on your birthday

To the speculation on the dictionary whence

You spun your magic and awed many in and beyond your day,

To the father of the deepest yet saddest romance:

The bitter tale of hatred to which Romeo and Juliet fell prey:

We miss your plume pouring life onto our every sense.

 

(c) Nyonglema

Darkness in my Heart #heartbreak #AES #power #love #tragedy

A.E.S has done it again!

I mean, I’ve been sitting and thinking

Thoughts so vain, waiting. Waiting

For the bulbs to flicker then “ding”

With bright white light once again.

 

A few minutes before the TV roared

In the Bernabeu and I watched: no blinking!

Each shot, each trickery of their inking

As with art they had my heart rising then sinking:

Champions League night baby! Nobody bored!

 

And the lights were white alive

But the whir of electrons slowly seeping

Through laden wires didn’t affect my skipping

Ad arrhythmia as victory played the evil Imp in

This story: appearing then dipping into its hive.

 

Yes! the bright lights were on yet ignored

And like the well with its honey for our drinking

Ignored till without warning or tin bell ringing

Darkness rushed in to seize our wishes and hoping

And my love was gone; leaving my heart all scoured.

 

(c) Nyonglema

New Life

Hiding in mummy’s tummy, kicking happily away
I’m kissing you warmly, clapping and singing in play
They say in a few weeks
I’ll be able to kiss  your new cheeks
I can’t wait for the morning I’ll lift you in a sway

(c) Nyonglema

The Desert I Sought

One step on the white blistering sand,
Sandals in hand, turban shrouding my beard
From the gusts of arid wind sucking my sweat
And burning my skin and mucosa.

I looked ahead, raising my hand
To block the sun and see the herd
Of camels ahead, and beyond the dunes,
The promise of death from thirst and hunger.

I saw the cactus hold firm to the sand,
And scavengers in the form of an innocent bird
Swimming overhead as if to admire their work:
Meatless bones basking lifeless in the sun.

Was that my fate? Lifeless in the sand
Going through the process to be bird turd
As they pecked and relished? So it seemed.
I pulled myself on, and my body protested.

Is this why this route was so bland?
That civilisation despite its million nerds
Had not found a way to profane the dunes
And  enforce its will on Nature’s plans?

But I keep on with the target at hand.
Oh…I forgot to give you the Word!
Great promise lies ahead, beyond the pain,
Beyond the thirst, beyond lurking death.

Behind me lies a devastated land,
The old me: wicked an absurd.
Beyond the pain lies Life, and just like a newborn,
I shall bear the suffering that takes me Home.

(c) Nyonglema

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