This is it, I’m done. I’m done trying to figure you out.
I had thought even amidst the mystery I had at least
Found a track upon which I would tread without traps
Planted at every curve along my way with you.
I’m done telling myself I know what no man knows not.
Your elusive slippery moves elude the grips of me on
You, so excuse the news that I have let loose the love
That used to hold me dear in His arms for the soothing
Sweet taste of sin.
I know it has not been long enough to claim, that my
Sudden disdain of Him, was as a result of an unholy swim
In a pool of unvirtuous gin. But I have since learnt yet
Again, that knowing what I may; Life my friend,
You will always have your uncertain ways that lead to
That one place where grace always has to find more space
To abound more grace.
So I’m done! I’m done trying to learn the moves to your
Herein is the translation, in poetry,
Of echoing moments within the sixty
minute circumference, whose manifestation
In time was also their fateful demise.
But having fathered and paved way
For a moment of double impact,
The ten ten moment, The Double
Deca moment. A moment clothed
In serene stillness yet deep within,
Is embedded with chaotic activity
Of incomprehensible thought
Generations and reflex sensations.
A moment of indubitably power-
Emotions, and yet not an ounce of
Them the heart can reminisce upon.
Stares at nothing, but that mean
Something, soothing sighs of peace
Of mind from time to time.
But while I sunk slowly and deeper
Into this pool of dimes, along came
A distraction and pulled me back into
The mundane flow of things. But all
Through the day were extraordintary
Spouts of moments, through which random
Thoughts tiptoed into the conscience
To deliver a small note from John.
The note does not seem much, its
Only the tenth of ten amongst many.
And with it came a filling of
Assurance for my heart and a feeling
Of contentment for my soul. That
Double Deca Moment still ripple
Effects through my being in
Wavelengths not measurable by
Richter scales, but sorts similar to
Hunger pangs. Life has been given
In abundance and within this ball
Of chocolate like molten caramel,
Sweet and pleasurable was a love
Ordained by Love Himself. Deca!💙
Soul Of Wit
I have had to let my thoughts go, surrender
Them to wonder, and have them wander to
Places that please more than just the eye.
Places that often find space in the heart,
And brand it ‘memorable’.
And it’s at such places that I have
Always found that urge, that tickle
And twitch in my fingers, in my poetic
Faculties. It’s in such places that
I have always found, not only the
Words, but those sweet and sour
Chronicles worthy of record in my book.
And for all this I know I am blessed
To have had this chance, to have been
Inspired, to have mustered up the
Courage to share my stories. Pieces of
Me. Whether big or small, it has always
Given me great pleasure and satisfaction.
So thank you. Thank you for reading the
Words of a bleeding heart; thank you for
Giving time to this heart when it smiles.
For sharing in the hurts and joys of my
Journey, ’cause these words have been the
Tissue and band aids that bind my wounds,
But also the breaks of great laughter.
So thank you!
It feels good to have my lover
Back in my arms again. How
Sweet her scent is to my soul.
From the hood of my head to
The base of my foot and the
Very tips of my toes.
It feels good to be writing again.
The smell of ink as it wets the
Paper to record the sentiments
Of my spirit. It sure feels good
To be airing again, letting my
Imagination fly again.
I realise, when the words come
And you don’t heed the call,
The word then leave and as such
A part of you has been denied
The chance to live.
For some time, inspiration has
Come knocking at my door, but
Too many times I have let her
Down, I’ve let her walk away
while I was too busy with other
But not anymore. Today I put my
Foot down, I will heed to her
Voice and answer the call. Today
I will write, and afford the
Inspired faculties of me to live
Through these words.
A day or two after the skies flaunted
The full brilliance of her queen. Born
To mother Earth was another, history
Called her Princess: a priceless gift to
Mother and father. To whom the love
Of Heaven has manifested, so rightfully
They named her, Heavenly.
Ya re Kgosigadi ya Mopitlo Ngwedi a
Hulara, ra tlhoka go lala mo hihing.
Masego a Modimo a na, a ratwa.
(As the Queen of March, Moon,
fled away, we were never left to
Face the darkness. The blessings
Of God rained, and they were loved.)
To the beautiful baby girl on the B.R Express,
In whom imagination saw a refulgent glimpse.
Happy first Birthday, to that cute little Princess.
May the Lord’s blessings shower you in excess.