Winter’s Introduction.

I found beauty my greatest weakness
a haze one day leading to Easter
when the sun was overcome,
shut really by a calm rain.
It would peek but never get a chance
and as much as I hate the cold,
living throughout a day that feels
a shadow of my kind of day
kept my weakness a length away
from my grasp. Sunrise, sunset
or my bare feet on our lawn
away from my favourite scene,
a pint of sadness in a cold day
and many others to come. There, winter’s near.

If It’s Shadow Isn’t Clear


the road I was on 
was not even a road, 

looking down I saw I was
walking on clouds far above the ground,

help, help!
catch me, someone help! 

I’m going to fall, 
my life’s story of going unheard,

silence, if not simmering of silence 
said to me, why else did I think I was forever alone,

and my thoughts took pity on me?
Anybody, I’m going to fall!

There, below it looked a cluster
I saw no one

perhaps they’d gone to the moon or 
hiding from the sun, 

I saw a sketch similar to what father hid 
that time I walked into his study unannounced, 

he chased me away and 
I’ve been away since, 

I’m going to die! 
Hello... 

Till I remembered I’d only just realized 
It wasn’t a road I was on, 

but had been on since I woke
from childhood amnesia. 

Help, help 
Whomever!

I’ve defined my loneliness. 

Caught By A Shadow Of Mine

I belong to the state,
not known by myself,
by the one starring out a window
on a rocking chair,
to the bean or spark started in mother’s womb
long when I could tell is with many faces
I’ve come across and forgotten,
will not allow me to draw my dreams
in my diary.

Dear diary,

death brought to my door faces
with their masks beautifully put in place
the masks, perhaps time better left unsaid

“she could’ve lived her life well.”

I mourn looking at the picture
by the window frame,
does fragrance of her hot beverage
relate to her like colour red to blood?

she with me, she without me.
I should’ve walked on not looking
what I was stepping on.

“I vow she lived well.”

Dear diary,

care to explain where life truly begins?
without time and a mirror,
how could I have met myself
?

I belong to the state,
held together by breath
asleep and unaware, her hope is false hope
kicking in mother’s womb
no longer a bean.

Myne

Love, what it means to me?

the best friend I grew up doing everything with.
One time took liking to my favourite doll,
thought of it moon’s stay, passed it over.
Upon her gleam, held her hand
ran along to our tree house.
Our sleepovers, and fireflies we caught in a bottle
argued about letting them go
while I persisted it’d be us opening the door
for ghosts after they fly away.
Her holding my hand, clarity in the eyes
that never minded my insistent looking; saying

“I’m here with you, don’t be scared.”

falling asleep facing one another,
our hands clasping like the grip
fighting against time.
Next morning, waking to an empty
side that’s never known coldness;
then running to my house faster than
my heartbeat could ever carry my small legs
with tears streaming down my chubby face.

“Ma, did ghosts take Seer away
like they did Papa?”
“Nani, you won’t be seeing Seer anymore.
She has two houses now and like you,
will be living at her mother’s house.”

Love, that’s what it means to me.

Epitome Of Missing Out.

Perhaps my dreams know,
I am a disloyal woman,
not to this life nor world
since I glance at them but,
discord cannot spring as I,
I’ve never truly looked at either
with obedience due their respect
whereas have given me a reflection
and I reflect thoughts both don’t know
were stolen by my curiosity;
but to myself, the woman
planting seeds of those very dreams
and since, I could never give them
what I’ve never had in my possession;
made attempts to produce or acquire,
intimacy when they guide me further
or acceptance of the touch they’ve
held with me consistently,
hence they felt need to leave my head.
Perhaps my dreams, had known from birth;
I am neither supportive nor negligent
but are rather floating in my conscious
would not strengthen my character
to pick even the dust this world and life,
sheds when accommodating me, alas;
I give up…

Far From Falling

https://za.pinterest.com/pin/300404237654764619/

My loneliness has painted
me an afterthought
not put away but highlighting
the bigger picture, there by
the sun’s shadow; it feels
everytime I move I can’t see where
I’m going nor where I’m from,
black and soot, misty – overall not seeing.

I wonder,

how falling leaves feel,
fulfilling the circle of life, to the ground
their yellowish brown they go
to be swept away or eaten by mites.
Do they fall willingly, slowly in acceptance
and sway to the wind’s familiar touch
they know would not be familiar?

I wonder…

But like myself
we’re here to let the sun grace us
as many times it’ll never stop at our toes.

It Lead To Being Mrs.

I’ll call love an adventure in the hands of time.
look, it was you and I
from the way we saw the sun to
the water we grew up drinking;
how our lands shared nothing but the same breath
it was beyond the sky’s limit
or destiny’s knowing smirk.
We redifined finding purity
heaven had offhandedly let go.
I love you I said
simplicity in which those words were said
could be misread or taken lightly,
hovered there like that rain that wouldn’t fall
I held on waiting for a chance
and you held on thinking it might be too soon
and we met, finally
the time that gave us glimmer of hope
we met, our eyes’ collision
those souls wouldn’t you say,
may have already known each other?

The World’s Blind Eye Hurts.

If I haven’t lived it,
and my thoughts aren’t able to take me there,
that is true sadness,
there I’m defeated.

Don’t laugh, this is said by someone
who’s known hunger,
truly now fears the coming days
I, I’m not defeated yet.

See the common birds,
I’m sure they have names
I’ve been watching them fly
this during the day,

heard them chirp when I was about
to finally close my eyes
and somehow found they mock me,
with their tiny bodies, withdrawing wings
they get close to the sky,
could tell where my mother’s gone
yet watched me slave away from a tree?

I’m learning to cover my ears
the world’s registered many sounds
but my name

Don’t laugh, we haven’t had water for days
I stink the old lady told me
again our worries differ.
She told me never to stand
under the rain though…

She said mother’s coming tomorrow
with a baby she bought,
all this while I thought she’d went to find father
but my stomach’s been telling me all day
it’s too empty and would like company,
I stole again.

When I grow up I’ll become a beautiful lady
everyone’s been saying so.
What is it to be beautiful?

How old am I now?
in my thoughts and seasons I skipped school,
I cannot say I know.
Perhaps like the world’s forgotten
to check up on me?

I want to run away to where the sun sets
only to watch it rise again,
I’ll return home afterwards.

Care To Propose

Find yourself a mermaid’s tear,
better yet a snake’s shed skin
like caught lightning,
your wind to unwavering times.
I caught my nerve…

I’m saying, to these stars untimely guide
forget what my eyes missed to say.

I’m lying, I’m a terrible liar.

Who could I be,
without your heart’s beat call to mine?

Find yourself a wrinkle in my
contrition I’m ready- maybe not,
mine alone, when I’m strangling our love
like the night’s defeated sigh
bickering shadows,
I was wrong, catch me!

The sky’s lit many candles,
what’s missing is our hands holding.

They fit, different from black and white.
I’m not lying, I’m a terrible liar!

Before I heard whispers,
my heart was running to you
leaving my thoughts to clean up before you arrive,
I am not without dust.

Find yourself me perhaps
who’s borrowing many forgotten tales,
like man’s first words to a woman;
“I saw you from across the room and…”

Rainy Days In Our Summer Home.

How the rainy days that peek in summer
don’t ignite my fireplace contentment
but a rather pitiful melancholy,
knowing too the sun should rest.
I miss my lover since his away.

I can’t relenquish to sudden change
not this change, I can’t catch my heart
being stirred in a way it feels
it’s hiding behind a curtain neglected
and cannot affrim it’s mood.

These rainy days
I know they’re laying carpet for winter
and my lover on his way home
to a furlon living room, quiet house
is the mischief of me covered
head to toe in sadness,
The sun, kisses on my skin
The sun, my eyes alight with rapture
but there in our unlit home
is coldness of unprecedented change;
He was gone too long.