Tuesday, July 14, 2015


The following poem is incomplete. I wrote it some time back and for some reason I never finished it, and now I don't know how to finish it.

Black girl with
Thick lips,
Soft eyes,
Round hips,
Looking up at him.

Him, the boy,
The man who
Would whisper
Secret things
In secret places
That took her
To places where
The sun and moon
Met and forced
The day into night.

Him, the boy,
Now man who
No longer possessed
An ounce of baby
Fat, just hard
Lines that knew
The softness that
Was hers.

Perhaps, one day the rest of this poem will come to me. Perhaps.


Buddah Moskowitz said...

You know, it's perfect as is. Don't force it. It's a beautiful snapshot.

kaykuala said...

Still I seek
To be the child
Of the sun.

Very well articulated Kimorlisa! One happy to rejoice if nothing had gone wrong. But there are elements who intrude with obstacles! Great ending!


brudberg said...

I think you don't need to add anything.. the ambiguity in the end is just perfect.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I think this poem is complete. The closing lines are perfect.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Hope you complete it soon.. I must know what happened next!!
Brilliant piece.

Gillena Cox said...

you shoul repost if you ever go further with this. Quite a nice poem as is

have a wonderful Sunday

much love...

Donna@LivingFromHappiness said...

I agree it is complete...and if not then it will come in time...

Mary said...

Really excellent, a far as you have gone. I really get a sense of 'him' from your writing; and if more comes, fine. If not, you've done well anyway!

C.C. said...

Love the ending and it feels complete to me the way it is. Divine actually.

Nataša Dolenc said...

I find it really beautiful.

Sumana Roy said...


G L Meisner said...

Even if you say its incomplete it doesn't feel that way.