What can I do about the fact that you’ve left?
Tears? Beat the ground till it’s deeply cleft
And opens to let you out?
From heaven, can you hear me shout?
Why does such a natural process feel like theft?
They say there’s such a time as fit for farewell.
Well, I’ve learnt you can’t believe all you hear tell,
For I still know your number
My thumbs vividly remember,
How they dialed your sweet voice to make me feel well.
(c)Nyonglema
Can you describe a baby’s smile? Let me try:
A breath of fresh air while the sewage tanks are drained;
That momentary silence when gunshots fill the air;
Cool palm oil on your tongue after your first crab curry;
when you shut your eyes to stop incoming traffic glare;
when a persistent cramp finally disappears;
Taking off your blistering work shoes when the day is done.
The pureness of the lines, and the innocence written in an infant’s smile cast all my stress away.
Unrestrained, untainted. The pure expression of appreciation that says: “Yes, you count”, “Thank you!”, “I love you” without uttering a word.
Those 5 seconds where everything means so much more, where nothing else matters than how happy this human being is of the mutual expression of love, as you smile back.
(c)Nyonglema
In the comments, tell us what your baby’s smile is like to you….
From far away past where silent orbs
Danced to rhythms of unknown forces forging
Newer niches in cloud then soil then rock,
Smouldering, sizzling silently as time tic toc
Ebbed away, watching life on some lifeless rock surging,
To this day when we dance to the rhythm of Forbes,
The moon and sun in divine love urging
Have danced about the earth: light source upon a rock,
Bringing life to earth when the sullen clock
Calls out the grim owl, vile wolf, and sturdy sturgeon
Through the silent night nobody else disturbs,
Locked in eternal enthralment, watching the dark dungeon
Earth would be but for the sun- or moonlight it absorbs.
Moonlight from sunlight like new groom and virgin
Locked in an embrace older than Eden’s first baulk,
But sealed forever to work on this blue rock;
Bringing light to life on earth at dawn then dusk, merging
Efforts: sun casts its beams on daytime suburbs
But when the earth turns as if to shun its scourging,
That age old mission bound to fail as dusk struck
Finds new life in the passive glitter on that battered rock,
The partner playing its part, for so it was from the first forging.
From far away past, as far back as the silent space orbs,
The sun and moon in sublime love urging.
Have danced about and cast shadows out of this rock
And so it should be, for when one’s gone and you lose the rock
Foundation of the union, then is there but darkness and dirge in
The picture, and the survivor is just a lifeless rock listening for hope in the orbs.
(c)Nyonglema
One sheep two sheep three sheep go
Four sheep five sheep go where the others go
six sheep seven sheep walk into the door
Seven sheep going to where they do not know
Eight sheep nine sheep walk into the door
Ten sheep eleven ’cause the other ten do
Twelve sheep thirteen see stains upon the floor
Fourteen fifteen march to where they have to go
Sixteen, seventeen heads start to roll
Eighteen, nineteen sheep have left the fold
Twenty many more follow as they go
Following stains and sheep heads upon the floor.
(c) Nyonglema
Picture this: the sun engraving sweat streaks
On your sizzling skin, stinging your eyes
As the humid heat hits your cheeks
Painting pain all over your 37°C-and-rising
Body stuck in the thick traffic like on all weeks
Barely breathing, headed home from the day’s trials.
And a-blaring come crowding the air those sirens:
The horns from cars speeding as if to mock
Our stillness. The cops with walkie-talkies pulling reins
On all who wish the way home were shorter:
“Order!” “wait!” The horns go from shrill – and since
There’s “order” – to barytone peace while we still sweat.
The sun’s still engraving its streaks on me
The heat still heating my sorry cheeks
This metallic cage stuck amongst so many
Others like it, ordered to stop for the glorious horns,
Is starting to feel like a microwave oven to me.
But what can I do? The gods were passing.
(c) Nyonglema
“Evil begets Evil”
I read upon the derelict arch,
Engraved in the stone: a warning to all
Who to these ruins would march.
“Evil begets Evil”
“Evil begets Evil”
Even the welcome mat
Reeks of waste, not welcoming at all.
Just cracks with invading moss matte
The Evil regrets of Evil
Evil besets Good
When a family neSt/bed
Through greed and hate after inheritance
Deep to murder instincts is infested
Evil arrests Good.
“Good begets Good”
The cracked frame read
Lying in the rubble like a forgotten fossil
Covered with dust and shoe tread
“Good be-” *crack* “gets” *crack* “Good”
The words nobody heeded
Till Evil bore only more Evil.
(c) Nyonglema
To the man who cheered my childhood idleness
When want of money seized the Mario Bros from me.
To the man who planted in me the seed of madness
To string words like multi-coloured beads to see
Some hidden truth, to say some itchy sadness,
To display the velvet waves of a grassy plane in some wilderness.
I remember “Et tu Brute” impressed on that page
Of beautiful poetry you wove into a thickening web.
Enthralled by this beauty, the Muse had me in a cage
And soon out of my own tottering pen, I would be a deb.
The Sonnets, Othello, Twelfth Night, Hamlet: my pleasant voyage
Into the Land of Words till sunlight to the horizon would ebb.
To the Bard of Stratford-upon-Avon on your birthday
To the speculation on the dictionary whence
You spun your magic and awed many in and beyond your day,
To the father of the deepest yet saddest romance:
The bitter tale of hatred to which Romeo and Juliet fell prey:
We miss your plume pouring life onto our every sense.
(c) Nyonglema
A.E.S has done it again!
I mean, I’ve been sitting and thinking
Thoughts so vain, waiting. Waiting
For the bulbs to flicker then “ding”
With bright white light once again.
A few minutes before the TV roared
In the Bernabeu and I watched: no blinking!
Each shot, each trickery of their inking
As with art they had my heart rising then sinking:
Champions League night baby! Nobody bored!
And the lights were white alive
But the whir of electrons slowly seeping
Through laden wires didn’t affect my skipping
Ad arrhythmia as victory played the evil Imp in
This story: appearing then dipping into its hive.
Yes! the bright lights were on yet ignored
And like the well with its honey for our drinking
Ignored till without warning or tin bell ringing
Darkness rushed in to seize our wishes and hoping
And my love was gone; leaving my heart all scoured.
(c) Nyonglema
Hiding in mummy’s tummy, kicking happily away
I’m kissing you warmly, clapping and singing in play
They say in a few weeks
I’ll be able to kiss your new cheeks
I can’t wait for the morning I’ll lift you in a sway
(c) Nyonglema
One step on the white blistering sand,
Sandals in hand, turban shrouding my beard
From the gusts of arid wind sucking my sweat
And burning my skin and mucosa.
I looked ahead, raising my hand
To block the sun and see the herd
Of camels ahead, and beyond the dunes,
The promise of death from thirst and hunger.
I saw the cactus hold firm to the sand,
And scavengers in the form of an innocent bird
Swimming overhead as if to admire their work:
Meatless bones basking lifeless in the sun.
Was that my fate? Lifeless in the sand
Going through the process to be bird turd
As they pecked and relished? So it seemed.
I pulled myself on, and my body protested.
Is this why this route was so bland?
That civilisation despite its million nerds
Had not found a way to profane the dunes
And enforce its will on Nature’s plans?
But I keep on with the target at hand.
Oh…I forgot to give you the Word!
Great promise lies ahead, beyond the pain,
Beyond the thirst, beyond lurking death.
Behind me lies a devastated land,
The old me: wicked an absurd.
Beyond the pain lies Life, and just like a newborn,
I shall bear the suffering that takes me Home.
(c) Nyonglema
Count your blessings
Hit the mark more often
Reading, Writing, Hearing and Tasting the Art of Life
When reluctance gives in to the urge of expression....
waghni 