Category Archives: love

love

Happy anniversary #marriage

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These are a few words you can surprise your special other with on the day both of you publicly agreed to walk the special path of marriage. Use ad libertam!

Caveat: make sure they read past the first 4 lines …if not it may not end too nicely lol


You know I nearly forgot about today, and it’s all your fault!
Every day is the same, the damn same routine…and it’s your fault.
I didn’t expect this when I signed up, the fermentation of our malt.

But, every day is the same, the damn same routine…and it’s your fault.
You make each day shine the haloes round the sun into my nights,
You make each moment a golden drop bringing the hourglass light

And I didn’t expect this when I signed up, fermentation of our malt
Into refreshing beverage, dancing on my palate, soothing my bone aches
Healing my sore days, breathing for me the fragrance of lilies

But you know I nearly forgot today, and it still is all your fault,
For filling each day with the same magic of the first “I do”
And this day is same, another blessing from above in you.

(c) Nyonglema

love

Divinely loving #marriage

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Once I saw Venician vines. Well it was in a book.
But I can imagine the Farmer picking the right ones,
Juicing into the barrels building His empire.

I can imagine reality matching the expert books
As the smiles of satisfaction pile in amounts of mounds,
Smiles shired in the balance and wit of an esquire,

The ones I saw in Venician vines welling towards a book
Of ancient days. He just made the flavours jump, bounce
Upon the buds of the thirsty around the fire

Past their imagined reality matching the expert’s books
That foretold a Sage to bless the joining of two ones
By blessing the water, the maid and the sire

Like once I saw in Venician vines. Well it was in a book
That I saw true love swell from seed to gigantic mount
And thought myself that love always ignites the ring of fire

Past our imagined reality, but patching the expert’s book
With a new tale of love, that I now see on a Nso mound
Like once I saw in Venician vines. Now this is your book
To outlast imagined reality, and dwell for aye in your children’s books.

(c) Nyonglema



So, my homie from Street 237 just did something marvelous, making me proud. I love that :-). God bless your years together guys!

love

Et si

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This is a poem in Français I wrote in 2004 of one of those boyish moments, when you’re stuck between telling her or getting rejected by her, or wondering how long it will all last.

Hope you enjoy my words from long ago 🙂


J’errais sur les chemins secrets de l’Olympe,
Cherchant l’archer au visage d’ange
Qui aurait chambouler tant de vie simple.
« Et si une fois de plus je me retrouvais fusil sur la tempe,
A chasser l’ombre de cette muse partie, à pleurer des Ganges ? »
Je lui demandai inquiet, quand j’eu retrouvé son temple.


Son regard fixe me frustrait ; j’étais furieux :
« Des réponses ! Vous êtes sans ignorer ma peine,
Mais vous jouez au sourd ! » Il me paru curieux
Que mon affront aux dieux
Me laissa indemne.
J’étais triste. Je me levai ; j’aurai mieux fait d’éviter ces lieux.


« Mon cœur souffre le martyre ! Je n’ai pas l’habitude ! »
De marbre il resta, je pensai à mon ange,
Au fait que je serais mieux avec elle que de causer à cette statue,
Qu’au lieu de la tenir, je me torturais à vouloir changer mon statut.
« Adieu le Taciturne, je rentre vider ma grange
A celle qui devrait l’entendre. Je change d’attitude. »


Un éveil confus ce fut,
Mais la vérité me paru plus clair ;
Mettons Cupidon de côté, les réponses c’est nous.
Cette fois je ferai confiance à mon pouls,
Chose qu’à ce jour je n’ai su faire !
Mais « Me fera-t-elle confiance ? Le mériterai-je ?
Et si l’amour un jour se fanait ? »
« Nous lui ferons conserver sa grandeur. »


(c) Nyonglema

love

Thanks #myRose #myLove

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That night, the night it all started,
The night I first saw my rose
Gliding in beauty, blissfully baffling
The listeners she had attracted,
I was still deep in my woes,
Dark in my soul: love to me was throes.
The first glance brought back hope,
That hope for true love we all have, but soon lose.

That night, the night it all started,
I thought roses were all prickly, hated everything
That related to that word, scared to cope
In this world, my pain not so abstracted,
For I had tasted it all, lay in my corner shivering
But you came into my world, a voice so comforting
Left me wondering why Mnemosyna had sent a muse
To faze me: Cupido got that one!

That night, after it had all started,
Her look during our presentation, no more would I mope,
Chewing my pen ‘tween 2 words, who’ll I choose?
All adventures crumbled, those roses had me scratched,
Left me scarred, thinking of a rope
End my life, end as lifeless as the bar of erudite soap
The 14th of July had brought to Lilian,
She who lied to me, traded me for my best friend.

That night, after it had all started,
I thought of Lilian and the similar moose
Who’d played me for a fool, my heart an empty can.
But that night it restarted
The sweet pain filling me, wrecking my sinews
As I looked at her look, chatted about the news,
But heard no other noise, but the beautiful blend
Of her melodious voice with music of the spheres.

That night, I knew it had restarted,
The psychological feeling, these 2 hearts were meant one,
She knew it too: she whispered it in a voice so fragrant
And together we traveled. It had started.
The skin smooth under my strolling hands,
Lips speaking a language all understand,
All the while, she returning my care,
Feelings we could not control.

That night, thank God it had started.
Everyday I pay God it never ends.
A rose whose prickly stem I could bear,
And who my weaknesses knew but never retreated.
A firm stem to lean on, when pain gets me bent,
By my side, forgiving the unfaithful ends.
I have been given, and never will let fall
My rose, thank you for giving me hope.

(c) Nyonglema

love

Sing for mum #ripNzie #Anne-Marie

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When you cross the Pearly Gates, will you sing for mum?

I recall those tender dew watered Yaoundé morns

When the cassette spun your voice out the Kenwood speakers,

Lulling my childhood ears to plains which white lilies adorn

And bees buzz the harmony to your vocals and the horns.

 

I recall especially as each new year died to birth another one

That mum would pop the cassette as metronome to the countdown.

And we would be eagerly watching the TV, eyes darting from clock

To TV, from clock to TV, holding on to the present’s each sound,

Conscious these moments shall roam hence only in Memory’s town.

 

The lyrics were beyond my mono-lingual grasp, but for “Liberté”

Where I felt freedom of my spirit soaring, and then “Bonne année”

Which nobody needed to explain. This is all I can take with me round

Memory’s town. But mum sure knew all the songs, and would sing away

As I watched in marvel as her lips waved a magical musical day

 

So Ma’am Nzie, this only I ask of you as you walk the path she took:

Let those words I didn’t understand but which my childhood shook

Pour once again beyond Peter, with love messages from me, three and more

And please, let her… please… harmonize once more every single hook

As once she did, but now in praise to my Maker as He lovingly looks.

 

(c) Nyonglema

 

 

 

 

 

love

SO SEI ES

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Jetzt seh ich nur die Finsternis,

Aber es gebe Freude jenseits der Liebe,

Andererseits sei alles peinlich alleine.

Kommet die Heilung nur wenn die andere da ist.

Ich habe meine Gefühle nich mehr im Griff;

Liebe die Gelegenheit ergriff

Meinen verletzten Herz

Noch in Schmerzen

Zu stecken; verdammt sei der Anfang!

Kaum kann ich mich noch verstecken,

Cupidos Pfeil hat mir schon ein Leid getan.

(c) Nyonglema

love

On Marriage #writing201 #pontifex #pope @b_arco

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“Immediate interests” on poetweet.com
Compiled from tweets by Pope Francis @pontifex
Compiled and edited by Nyonglema

Know that they are loved and saved.
And are saved who loved!
Presence, before the Tabernacle.
Beauty of loving and being loved.
We can overcome every obstacle.

Makes us always able to forgive!
Always forgive the able
No visits to their aging grandparents.
Deep joy which only God can give.
God and celebrating the sacraments.

Efforts and creates great things.
See here all things great
In lives of Christian spouses.
The equal dignity of human beings.
To accept and carry our crosses
Our struggles and our sufferings.

(c) Nyonglema

love

Peel the Onion #Writing201 #beneathSkin #missingYou

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Peel the onion baby, peel the onion; work through the layers and see what is hidden within the canyon. On the skin it seems calm, cool collected, but within it’s probably saying a prayer, or two, too insecure and missing you.

Peel the onion, baby, although it may bring you tears. I remember the childhood kitchen where we diced onions and tomatoes, while mum told us orders we barely heeded, and got sent out because we were making a mess rather than what was our mission. I remember the tears swinging against my lids, and gliding down my jaws as if to mourn the bulbs being put out. Well the fears and pain beneath each peel of skin is real, and as you peel back the reels, reflect on each for just a second, and you acknowledging them will be a boon to heal what’s been hidden away safely beneath.

Peel the onion, baby, and see how much love there is to share, and how I hold back for fear that it be too much to bear. Because,you see, in those years while we’d peel and dice, our mouths went foul as we’d steal to taste, and our eyes would sting as we’d hack in haste, and I’ll hate to put you through that sad fate. We were just making a mess, but I bet you’re not part of our set. I’ve seen your skill when you dice the veggies, and I wish for your dexterity, but I never learned it. I was too busy on the computer while my brothers went with it, followed mum’s instructions. Maybe, I’d have learned to peel them back myself and let it show, that there’s nowhere I’d go but where you are, and how empty it is when you’re far away from here.

Peel the onion, baby, peel away and teach me the way. Peel and see the words I don’t speak, which hide there, and the thoughts that hang thick and swing and sway my heart to think and wish to say, but scare then stare at you and only mutter just a summary of what I feel: “I love you”, meaning “You’re all I need to live through this”, “Let’s be together through thick and thin, till the music quits”, “Let’s console and hold each other”, “With you is only bright weather”, “I’ve been hurt really really badly before, but this time feels right”, “I trust you my love…”, …

Peel the onion, baby, peel away for I was too busy on the computer to learn the right way to show and say; if I had I’d peel this myself and let it fill your days, and walk your roads and brighten the clouds which would dare to spill your way. Peel the onion baby, that’s unfortunately all I can say.

(c) Nyonglema

love

It’s Night #internationalOlderPersonsDay #ourHeroes

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I just realised after writing this today morning that this is the first poem I’ve dedicated to my late paternal grand mum thinking about her on this day dedicated to older persons, who struggle in the modern world. The real coincidence is in the fact that this is happening on the day of her patron saint : St. Theresia.

So what can I say, RIP beloved Tsimi Theresia Pisoh aka U’uwu, we loved you lots, and we’ll see again by God’s will.

It’s night, and the termites are misting the veranda
On which we sit together and swat away, missing and hitting,
Then retire to the inside, you, my siblings and I.
I’m too young to understand the words you bandanna
About my head of past events like the friend you were skitting
In that one story, painting to us your comic side.


The smile on your face for the happy tales from that long ago
Lights up my heart, even though I don’t understand the sentences,
Nor the importance of understanding them now for later.
The tears that hide from the sad tales, from the gun and bomb echo
As you ran in fields at that first war, have my heart on picket fences
To see that pain, to relive through the jaws of the alligator.


But I relished every instant you brought us to that far away era,
And the candy you shared, and the advice…not always followed
My encyclopedia, my history book, the only type of history to love.
I felt Death toy with my infant soul each time he came a lil’ nearer
And the doctors would struggle to keep with you that breath borrowed,
Giving me more life, more time to really internalize what you spoke of.


It’s night U’uwu, and you’re not here, and I regret when I couldn’t sit
To care for my lovely gramma, wondering where you get all these stories
Wondering why an adult would need so much support, while dad, mum
They’re so strong, so big, like you, diving in and out of lion pits,
Lifting mountains, I thought you were strong, U’uwu, your allegories
Were stronger than dad’s, mum’s, and you’d given dad strength serum.


Where did it go? Why do you walk so slow, while you ran in your tales?
Where did the teeth go? Why are you bent over, U’uwu, what’s wrong
That your strength fled your body at time’s command, leaving this frail
Person, unlike the picture I could make from the time of bomb hails?
And now you’re gone U’uwu, and I miss you after answering my question
As dad,mum get your ageing strength, and I crawl behind on that same rail.

(c) Nyonglema

love

The Wall #heartbreak #lovelost #death #abuseKills

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                      Alive                                                      we wove our wands
of magic, Living love                                   to bits with intensity only
A few have come close to. We loved      the unicorns in fairy tales created by
our fantasy in its full intensity:    love in   the imagination of two loving souls seeking
each other, lost in each other. The fairies lived their lives, fluttering around our teen
bellies promising nirvana, like butterflies in my stomach and head, alcohol in each
part of my soul, keeping me in permanent euphoria at the sight, touch smell, hurt
of you, in the morning, evening, night. But Newton’s promise is such a
crime as the floating fays all fell sullenly one by one, and
blaming age to the decay that befell each suddenly.
The end of our Utopia lingered in the air to
push each winged dream out of that our
space, onto the mud whirling around
as earth throttled full ahead
without care. Till my mind
was made up: “Go! Go!”
To flee to flee to
leave and never
come back.And
My heart
bled
As you
Didn’t

Care

 Didn’t bother
To save me

                  Your fairy.

          Dying alone

                 dying.

       Dead

                   by

                       your

                  hand.

(c) Nyonglema