All posts by nyonglema

I love to write to inspire, to salvage and to heal. I believe there's power in word and language that can cure all the ills which take away human love an life. Keep reading, you'll find yourself.

THE UNION #supportWidows #supportWidowers

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

Sheep in the fold

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

The gods are passing

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 #theChainofEvil #theChainofGood

“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

On your 450th: to the Bard

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

Darkness in my Heart #heartbreak #AES #power #love #tragedy

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

New Life

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

The Desert I Sought

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

Para Bellum

Arm deals and more arm deals, that’s all I see.

Calibres change, the type of artillery

Changes, the game players grey and go and

Are replaced by darker capillary

With greater thirst for bleeding enemy

And with more dangerous artillery.

 

Deadly toys in the hands of eager youth,

Intended for warding off intruders:

Scaring them with heaps of artillery

So that they would harder prepare soldiers

If they should covet and desire to loot.

In their minds they have peace in their brooders.

 

But to brood over unused firepower

While only playing with blanks on dummies

Kindles unquiet thirst only blood can quench

Kills empathy for sonless war mummies,

And in blasts of gun smoke the youth’s flower

Drowns its thirst in the thud of fall’n bodies.

 

(c) Nyonglema

Valentine Dreams

Crystal-red-coloured rose pouring sweet scent into my nose;

That’s what you are, and more, my sweet muse.

The other night, vivid dreams of you I had

That made sleep feel like divine love:

 

You and me in a flowered prairie, with bright clothes.

I saw the bright sunlight jive alive in your black diamond eyes most true

That married your smile, as you told me you were glad

To be with me, smelling flowers and watching doves.

 

I was so glad! I can still feel how my heartbeat rose

When you told true tales of love as you’re used

To doing, with your hands in mine, your soft palms.

How much more can I thank the Orchestra above?

 

For this scene is all I’d have wanted, like exquisite prose.

From time to time, I’d look at you from behind (you’d excuse

Me!) and have nothing to add to the perfection you clad

And still do in reality! Perfect curves painted silken mauve!

 

I’s about to end the distance between our lips when I arose

Most sad to find all that was but a dream.

I’d have gladly gone back to the dream

But reality is worth a thousand dreams; so I left home

To meet the object of my every joyful prose

On this valentine morning so jocose.

(c) Nyonglema