Einsamkeit #loneliness

 

It’s funny how “einsamkeit” (German for loneliness)  sounds like “ensemble” (French for together), although both are so opposite one to the other…This is my painting of the most murderous mood a human can ever die into:

 

 

Frozen synapses:

Dosing awake, collapses

Into nothingness.

(c) Nyonglema

 

My son’s tooth #RIPmum #loss #missTheWell

I still remember when you were but members kicking in the air,
Reaching for my hair, my glasses, mouth bare, wide stare
Living life to the full without a fear, and very little care:
Your empty stomach, full diapers, or when dada or mum’s not there.


Yes, your gums gleamed for the future white to grow there,
And the first push through brought your mum-mum to crazy cheer,
And brought you and gramma and mum to some hospital chair,
To tend a fever…shame most of these times I was on foreign stairs.


The pictures brought me joy too, and I showed each peer,
Like “Check that out, the teeth are showing” to their blank stare
Of non-understanding, or about-to-jeer, or I-don’t care.
But that little trophy was mine and mine to carry everywhere!


Then they multiplied: more incisors premolars and each year
There was more to show in your mouth than in some trade fairs!
We were proud, but I bet as high as your head was your care
For the diamonds pushing through your gums as if fore’er.


But now I can feel the stab of the salty streak of each tear
That poured out as four years later the incisive pioneer
Lost its hold and you panicked and at that time we weren’t there
To guide you on this change that to you was a great scare.


But but how could you have…but but….Mummy….


How could I have known that things strong one day leave?
How could I have known that this time it wasn’t a pet peeve
And that that last heave for breath is the last you’d give?
How could I have known that so soon we would all have to grieve?


You were decisive and strong, standing through the toughest
And the roughest weather you brushed off your body’s surface,
And put on a warm face, smiled to heal the pain in my sore nest
Where the eggs of hope were being infested by hornets.


Mummy…


Like my little boy living life not thinking about the whites,
I loved deep but saying “I love you” was an Isaac sacrifice,
And by your bier, staring through the glass at shut made-up eyes,
I’m saying “I love you” as if to thaw your face and skin of ice.


(c) Nyonglema

Pain #pain #humility #compassion

A stab straight to the heart,
A flicker of hope gone away,
Forever present, a cancer on your skin,
In the bones or other frail tissues,
Coming to you when you least expect;
In every respect your closest companion.


In everyday it plays a part,
Like a tax you owe, you must pay!
Burden on your shoulder, a fragile kin,
Engendered from salient issues.
A kin you know you can’t neglect,
‘Cos though unpleasant, must be in the union.


Yes, though it is in your skin a wart,
A messenger teaching you to apprecia’e
The un-corrupted areas of skin,
To keep those bubbling insults in disuse.
Instead look at what good’s left, and delect
In the life-learning process; an important pinion.


You run away, you waste your millions,
No escape, you are the next to infect.
Water fills your failing sinews,
He’s stuck with you, no fleeing!
Your closest companion on everyday,
When you least expect he is taking part.


(c) Nyonglema

Gone Gone Valentine #loveLost #heartbreak

“Leave me! You’re good for nothing!”
Hitherto have I heard nothing so numbing!
Whither would she tell me such a thing?
Weathers change, I’m still thinking
About that long gone valentine.

Weathers change, birds chirp and fade,
Velds grow and grey in life’s hasty wade.
I miss her, let’s call a spade a spade.
Since my silver lining got ripped off, I’m scared.
Gone gone are those pleasant songs of Valentine.

“Kiss me! You are really something!”
Why would such sweet surges be lost in
A single line: “You’re good for nothing!”
But why mourn, more fun’s coming …
But for now, I’ll be forlorn, oh gone gone Valentine.

(c) Nyonglema

IDYLLIA (2002) #loveLost #gone #lonely

After midnight, a tear dribbles down my jaw,

My heart is torn; the darkness is rushing in,

I have been waiting forlorn for the sun at my door,

To see Idyllia glaze when I gaze at my opened door.

But the night is still dreary

As I miss her charm

And I’m still weary

Like a workaholic farmer.

 

Reminescing of when it was still daylight,

More tears drooling from their seat tattoo my cheek;

No! We had never thought even of twilight,

And through each day, cloud-like glided with no foresight.

Like a barren prairie

I optimistically hope;

The dark is scary,

But my consolation is a dumb praying Pope.

 

The wall clock sings three and I acquaint despair,

For I realise the truth is yelling out.

I dry my tears, she won’t come, the truth stabs my Coeur.

But my wish for light is forever, past when I lose my hair.

Hope she’ll come back even as I occupy my hearse.

Farewell fair fairy,

My silken girl of Utopia,

My nights will always be dreary,

And great will my fear be,

But I shall be fine, Idyllia.

 

(c) Nyonglema

The Palm Tree Seed #blackSheep #uglyDuckling #rejected

There it lay lazily in a sea of others like itself;
Well, in most things like itself,
For they all had that haggard carelessly drawn spherical shape,
Showered with burning brown, red and yellow,
And the dark hats, a vestige of parenthood,
Made them look like brothers.

But it just didn’t look the same!
The paleness plaguing its pelt,
The gayness around seemed to stay off it,
Though the concentration of joy and beauty around
Should have diffused directly through
The fibrous coat, to hit the core;
It just didn’t fit!

Could it be a fall-out of the prejudicial lighting,
Which threw shades through each kernel’s space
From the dim candle lighting up the room’s face,
Giving the weird spheres flickering weirder airs?
No. It was just that this horrid sight
Was wrought by warms eating right through its coat
Causing decay: poor thing.

(c) Nyonglema

Rhum #loveLost

I just stumbled on this piece I wrote way back in high school and would like to share with you. It’s about the throes of a young man in a sweet relationship. Of course, he takes his babe for granted, not letting her know what’s going on below, and she gets snatched up by another. Hopefully, most are strong enough not to follow our friend here in his downward spiral…

 

I gave my heart away
Would have sworn it was not for a day
Here I am bathed in tears.
Yes it was a lot better in those years
Together hand in hand, shunning peers

What went wrong?

Chatting happily about that song,
Or about the latest Jan de Bont,
Hearts melded like metal.
Long I though it was wattle
And daub we had, what a bite from a rattle!

Remember those moments?

Smiling, laughing, running even in torments
To the flicks or home, green bills or no cents!

Even back home,

Tender caresses, my hand in that hair,
The mass of ebony enchanting strands, showing care
Kisses speaking our hearts,
Your skin flowing like malt.

Honey, cool times we had

You are a miracle halo!
Should have spoken earlier, but lo,
The sky’s getting wearier. But woe
Was bound to come!
And so was born regret: rhum.

My heart is gone, all left’s rhum,

Alcohol till life’s dusk.

(c) Nyonglema

 

I can hear the rhum gulps at each drop down into the abyss…..

Last sight #supportWidows #supportWidowers

I shut my eyes on Her twisted face,
All writhed in sorrow, my pain in Her innermost.
All hopes dead, an end closing in.
Slowly, I closed my heavy eyelids,
Rest I must; rest this divine pottery
Bathed in years of loving teardrops, Her sorrow cutting my innermost.
I glanced back at Joy,
Saw Him retreating stealthily, suavely fleeing;
I called to Him, but fixed His bearing was:
Home with me He would; He went ahead,
Leaving those eyes I had wiped flooded, but drying up.
Then She broke my thoughts, uttered Her thought.
And how I wished I could hear that conjecture by
Her now mellifluous voice; before I would have used cotton
To spare my ear Her nagging torture.
Then I looked back at Memory.
He sat on an old rock, most eruditely clad,
Told me of my siblings, peeps, my parents,
Slowly unfolded the reel of tears and smiles,
Stones I had kicked, stumbles dotting the pages;
My first beard, first girl, first beer;
This whole learning process as it was,
As it slowly neared its end.
Told of 14 years of school (bookworming)
The pain of seeing no further than my arm:
A marking handicap branded on me.
He told me of Her, how She groomed me,
Before and after I was Her groom.
His eloquence so captivated me,
I suddenly came back, my eyes shutting.
I felt some dying shocks on my thorax.
They must have been trying to re-establish the life distributor.
Again, I saw Her face, cupped in her hands
Like no pain, horror, sorrow
Could violate the barrier created.
The look in Her eye told me She knew;
She knew what I knew: solace would not come.
She read my goodbye and I dove;
Uwu and Mafou and granddad stood waiting,
Arms open, received the escapee,
As medics shocked the inanimate flesh on the bed
And my shut eyelids took me far off; home,
With Memory, Joy, Uwu and Mafou
Telling me of it all.

(c) Nyonglema

Tired #workDay #9to5 #labour #job #fatigue

Pins are pricking my poor body;
It’s night and the owls are gone.
The roar of horsepower have replaced their song,
And night is now a lonely toddy.

8 hours on farming my payroll eagerly,
With sweat and tear; each minute is scarce.
So rushing around the hive, looking for my fares
I don’t feel pins pushing into my day’s load stealthily.

As the night crawls in, and the boss calls out;
And the office shrinks, and the lights go out,
And the files pile up, and litter sleeps about,
My face sinks as this routine goes day-in day-out.

Don’t think wrong, my love’s my job;
But just like Job asking the Maker about woes,
I scratch my pain, stretch my back and nurse my throes,
And watch these pins sinking in like desert drops.

At last at home, lying on a couch to think
And scribble my thoughts in a big blot of ink,
I start to feel the pins relish as they sink
The pain of fatigue into each one of my limbs.

(c) Nyonglema

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