Anna

I stared at the cup of tea
The stewardess had placed before me.

It was one of those exotic herbals
That was supposed to be beneficial
For one thing or another,
But so far it had not done its job.

I was still on edge,
My mind buzzing from one thought
To another like a restless bee,
But it still returned to one thought.

Where is Anna?

The last time I saw her,
We were at the airport
Saying our goodbyes.
She was going to her father
For summer and I hugged her
So tight resisting letting her go.

I should have held on,
I should never have let her go.

Her father is dead,
His home is ransacked
And Anna is gone.

“Are you here on vacation?
Or are you here for business?”
The immigration officer’s words
Cut through the fog in my head.

“I came for my daughter.”

“Is she studying here?
Does she live here?
Is she here on vacation?”

“She was kidnapped here.”

His face was a slideshow of emotions.
Shock.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Comprehension.
Sympathy.

He stamped my passport
And wished me luck.

It was a wasted wish,
Three days later,
I stood over Anna’s body,
Too numb to cry,
Too hurt to speak.

I signed the paperwork,
Arranged the flights
And as quietly as I entered,
I left the small country.

It was only when I was at home,
A week after Anna was buried
That I cried.

I cried until no more tears came,
Until I plotted a way
To kill the man that killed
The only family I had.

Six months later,
An unidentified was found dead
In the small country.

It was obvious that
He had been tortured
And he was missing a molar
That could not be found
At the place where he died.

That said molar
Was buried with a Colt 45
Three feet above the coffin
Of a young woman
Who was called
Anna.

Lips On My Lips

Another hot one so proceed with caution

Cool

Sometimes,
I want to curl up
Into a bubble of
Coolness.

Not the coolness
Awarded to me
By others,
But a coolness
Of my own making.

A coolness that breeds
Creativity,
Courage,
Confidence
And the full bodied sense of
Awareness.

Other times,
I just possess it,
I just be it,
Cool that is.

Untitled

istefan

I suspected
I was pregnant
When I was two months
Into the nine months.

A life
Was being created
In me.

In less than a year
I would become
The mother of something
So fragile,
So small,
So unique,
A creation of a love
So pure.

At the eight month mark,
I had accepted
That my little one had
A spirit.

He or she liked
Mozart and Tupac,
Preferred I ate
Ice cream and cake
And passed on burritos and Chinese.

When I wanted to sleep,
He or she wanted to dance,
And not a tame waltz or foxtrot,
My little one was breakdancing
In the little space
Called my womb.

At last,
It was time for our little one
To be born into the bigger world.

After hours and hours
Of contractions,
And a great deal of
Huffing and puffing,
Screaming like a mad woman
And cursing my husband
That he will never touch me again,
Our little one was born.

He was beautiful,
And he had
A name.
We called him Luke.

Luke possessed
A life,
A spirit
And now,
A name,
Luke.


This poem was written for the Best of Books open mic topic, A Life, A Spirit.........A Name.

Better

mechanicalanimals;
She always said
That she was a clumsy person,
That she was prone to
Walking into doors,
Tripping over her own feet,
But we knew better.

She always said
She had something at home
To do,
That was shy she couldn't
Go out with us,
Be it for drinks,
For a cup of coffee,
For dinner,
But we knew better.

She always had a reason
Why her boyfriend
Was constantly calling her phone
6, 7, 8 times during the times
We did get to hang out,
But we knew better.

She always had
An excuse,
An explanation,
A reason
For things that
Just didn't seem right,
But we knew better.

Now she will never
Say anything,
Have a reason,
An explanation,
An excuse for anything
Because we didn't do
Better by her.

In The Darkness

 source



"Sing!"

The word tore through
The silence.

A silence as thick
As the darkness
That wrapped around us.

A darkness
Inhabited by people
Equally as dark.

"Sing and raise us
From these shackles,
From our misery,
From our fears,
From our reality!"

This command
Was not for me,
But the woman
Who sat in a distant corner.

Her voice rose
Like the sun,
Steady and slow
Warming our souls.

The clarity of her voice
Was like a dew drop
Magnifying the lines on a leaf
Upon which it sat.

Her voice was as beautiful
As an orchid,
And like an orchid
It was a parasite,
But instead of a tree or plant,
It got it's sustenance
From her soul.

And still
It was not enough.

"Stop, stop,
STOP!!!"

"I do not want to hear
A song as sweet as
A ripe mango or
A freshly chopped sugar cane."

"I want to hear a song
That is rich in pain
As well as triumph.
A song drenched
In the tears of brave men
And steeped in the sorrow
Of their women folk."

"I want our song."

The silence stretched
Like a sunset
Under a cloud heavy sky.

Then the song began,
A song we all knew.
A song that had brought
Tears to the eyes of kings.
A song that grew courage
In the hearts of cowards.

The song was infectious,
Leaping from man to woman
And woman to man
Like a great sickness
Found deep in the jungle.

Before long,
Voices rose into the darkness,
Vibrations bouncing off of
Unseen walls crashed against
Or bodies.

In this moment,
We were one.
One voice.
One people.
Bound for one place
And from that moment
We shall remain
One people.

One people
In the darkness.


To be honest, every time I read this poem I get teary eyed which is rare for me. Every now and then, I write a poem that hits a nerve for me. This is one of those poems.

Untitled

vi.sualize.us

Sinner,
Dressed in black,
Kissed the baby,
Shook his hand.

sinner,
Played her games
Like she played the piano
To perfection,
Always perfection.

Sinner
Smiles at you,
Eyes cold as ice,
Genuine friend for life.

Sinner
Had it all,
Lost it all,
Sinner no more,
God wants her soul.

God wanted her genuine,
God wanted her pure,
Dress in white
And sin no more.

Don't think
A soul can be got
As easily as it is lost,
A battle ensues
Within this soul.

Devil and Angel fight
There in.
Fight till almost nothing is left.
Loser loses the soul,
Winner rebuilds the soul.

The battle continues,
Six years later.
Gray she wears,
Gray they all wear.
Honestly, do you think
Anyone wears white.

He Still Loves Me

vi.sualize.us

Alejandro did not love me,
He loved the softness of my lips
As they kissed each and every
One of his delectable parts.
I broke his heart in a text message.

Nicolyde did not love me,
He love how my skin
Contrasted his,
My dark naked body
Against his pale.
I left a message on his answer machine.

James did not love me,
He loved the roundness of my ass,
The one he liked to slap,
In and out of bed,
And knead like dough
Every chance he got.
I called him during a business meeting.

Guillame,
Guillame love me,
He loved my lips,
He loved my skin,
He loved my ass,
He loved my heart,
He loved my mind,
He loved my spirit.
I looked him in the eye
And told him
I was afraid to love him,
He still loves me.

I Got High

My Modern Met


I got high.

Lucas had bought
Charlie's special concoction
Of weed laced with coke,
With a hint of extasy.

In Lucas' basement,
We partook in our
Little bount,

The smoke filled
The little room,
Dissolving the walls,
Leavind us suspended
In a technicolour space.

Just when we thought
We couldn't get any
Higher,
We found ourselves kitted
In astronut gear
Floating in a space
So bright, the air
Looked like clouds.

I got high,
The only problem is
I never got low.
I died in Lucas' basement
In a smoke
That dissolved my existence
To nothing.

This poem is the end of the challenge, hopefully, I will come across another series of images I can use to challenge myself.

I Rise

Cathedral music played in the background,
It sounded like monks chanting,
As I drank my glass of Merlot.

I was trying to drink
The memories of past lovers away,
Of men who wronged me,
Of men who hurt me,
Of men.

It's a shame
I don't have the taste for women,
Literally and figuratively.

I would be lying
If I said I made it to the bottom
Of the bottle,
I would be lying,
If I said I didn't almost
Lose my lunch and dinner.

An oracle,
The bottle was not,
It didn't show me
Where I went wrong.
It didn't show me
Where I should go now.

All it show me
Was the depth of my self pity.

I stopped the bottle
And crawled into bed,
Where I slept a dreamless sleep.

It was only when I rose
That I realized the bottle held a purpose,
To bring me down
So that I could rise.

Rise above the pain,
Rise above the bittersweet weariness,
Rise above the self pity,
Rise above it all,
And so I rise.

I Sold My Soul

I sold my soul
For a bag of chips.

I was hungry at the time
And my soul was there,
Waiting till I die
To go somewhere,
Or so they said.

They being the good people
Who come down to the shelter
To give us some food
And go on and on
About how good their
God was.

Their God
Who gave them SUVs
And BETs,
Who put a solid roof
Over their heads
And left me nothing
But this locket my mom gave me.

I still miss her,
She died when I was thirteen,
Shot in the head by
My father, who was coked up
So much he didn't even recognise
The women he vowed to protect,
Love, covet.

He's in jail now.
Coming out tomorrow.
Getting high tomorrow.

I though about all this
While I ate my bag of chips,
Licking the salty goodness off
My fingertips.
Maybe I'll sell my body
For a can of coke,
I ain't got nothing else.

I Have Accepted

My Modern Met

Night had fallen
Turning everything
Into varying shades of
Blue and black.

The destruction was
Evident, broken blocks,
Steel bent and exposed,
And we all took in
This new existence in different ways.

Some of us
Held on to the everyday
Practices, watching TV
As though there was
No gaping hole in the wall.

Some of us,
Stood stunned
Looking at the destruction,
Trying to understand,
Trying to accept.

Some of us
Tried to deny
That anything had happened,
Crawling back into bed,
Hoping that it was all
A dream, and they would
Wake up and things would
Be they way they were,
The way they should be.

And some of us
Got angry,
Trying to mete out vengence,
On all and any who
Could have created this
Disruption of their
Daily lives.

As for me,
I just accepted it,
I accepted that life
Was not a constant,
That out of the blue
Everything could be turned upside down.
I accepted that
Some people will die
And some will survive
To carry the grief for those
Who have died.

I have accepted,
And I continue to live.

James

James was his name,
We used to sleep together.
I would not call him my man,
I would not call him anything.
He was my feel good guy,
The guy who would tickle my fancy,
Not to mention my other parts.

One day, I called him,
But the line rang out,
I texted him,
But no reply came.
Time on my hands,
I went by his apartment.
A woman answered the door,
Eyes red, nose raw.

She asked me my name,
Then extracted an envelop
From a stack.
It had James' handwriting on it.
She closed the door on me.

Baby, the letter started,
As I read it in my bed,
Covers to my chin,
But fear still chilling my bones.
You know we been together
More times than I can remember,
How can I write this
And not feel like I'm hurting you.

Baby, I have AIDS,
I've had it for the past
Seven years.
The simple fact that you have
This letter means
I've passed on.

I cried,
Cried tears of fear,
Cried tears of mourning,
Cried tears of relief.
Relief that every damn time,
I played it safe.

You see James
Was a feel good guy,
He knew how to make
A woman feel good.
For a man to know that,
He had to go through
A lot of women.
So you know I was not
Going to take a chances.