Category Archives: sadness

Suffering Agony, suffering, hurt, anguish
Sadness Depression, despair, hopelessness, gloom, glumness, sadness, unhappiness, grief, sorrow, woe, misery, melancholy
Disappointment (Dismay, disappointment, displeasure)

Shame (Guilt, shame, regret, remorse)

Neglect (Alienation, isolation, neglect, loneliness, rejection, homesickness, defeat, dejection, insecurity, embarrassment, humiliation, insult)

Sympathy (Pity, sympathy)

sadness

The Return #soldiers #war #stopWar

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For the Veterans. The brave in the grave, or still above ground. The survivors of war, who fought for the cause.

nyonglema's avatarwaghni

Pam-de poodle-pam
His eager war-worn fingers tapped away;
Home sweet home! How glad!
No more late night crawls,
Stealthy whispers; all will be better.
He stares at the dying sun, how glad!
Straight home, to the arms of his weary-with-waiting family.
All the dreary things he had seen, done;
The foetid smell of vicious powder at every shot,
His fallen friends, the disturbed erupting rubble
At each bomb blast!
Only homewards!
The truck pulled lazily away,
Grumbling at the load: a hoarde of weary fighters
Hope and ammunition spent, with hunger double bent;
Pulling sorry faces, Shakespeare could not have imagined better!
But under those scarred wrinkled overgrown brows
Flickered in their searching eyes
Some hope, hope of home comfort.
The truck plodded lazily on;
They chanted: one dead song it was;
Like ten drunkards at an opera.
Oh, but for the fallen, how much better it would have been!

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sadness

The Palm Tree Seed #blackSheep #uglyDuckling #rejected

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There it lay lazily in a sea of others like itself;
Well, in most things like itself,
For they all had that haggard carelessly drawn spherical shape,
Showered with burning brown, red and yellow,
And the dark hats, a vestige of parenthood,
Made them look like brothers.

But it just didn’t look the same!
The paleness plaguing its pelt,
The gayness around seemed to stay off it,
Though the concentration of joy and beauty around
Should have diffused directly through
The fibrous coat, to hit the core;
It just didn’t fit!

Could it be a fall-out of the prejudicial lighting,
Which threw shades through each kernel’s space
From the dim candle lighting up the room’s face,
Giving the weird spheres flickering weirder airs?
No. It was just that this horrid sight
Was wrought by warms eating right through its coat
Causing decay: poor thing.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

THREE VOICES

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Hi Readers, Let me share this poem I wrote way back when I was 16 years old. I have held myself back from re-working it at all….let’s call it a trip down memory lane 😉

So it is a love square that turns into a love triangle …with weird ending …enjoy

 
“Oh Amanda, your heart regulates mine.
One second without you is like a lifetime.
Were’t I wasn’t wed, we’d be forever in this time.
But fate had it otherwise, now this love is a crime.”
At this point Idyllia burst in, started crying,
Caught her man enlaced by a girl lying supine.
 

“Why you had to lie to me again?
My heart is yours, love. Stop this pain.
You swore you’d be my high, not my bane.
But you’re playing a game that keeps the rain on the pane.”
But forgiving as she’d grown, unlike Cain,
She forgave, forgot the pain and stayed on the scathing lane.

 
“Why did you forgive that bloke?
A jerk that can’t even keep an oath?
There are a thousand worth more than that goat!
Why do this dumb deed; stick with a cheating crook?”
Went her best friend, holding a secret hope.
Of course Idyllia didn’t care, because she loved.
 

“Oh Amanda, my sun, my earth, my sky.
Last time was an error; please don’t cry.
Things are getting better, Idyllia’s sick while
We savour this instants of elixir.” Nine
Days later Idyllia got the 419.
She cried alone, cold, watched joy pass her by.

 “You promised you and long-hair was finished game,
But you ran right back into her arms, in my pain.
Why play this game, acting insane?
If you love me no more, make it plain.”
He feared her reaction so much he couldn’t but claim
He still loved her, while his heart craned.
 

“My word! You are the stupidest bloke.
He’s not worthy of you, he can’t play a man’s role.
Drop him go for one who’s not a casanov’
I’m your friend, girl, it hurts to hear your sobs.”
Sure Idyllia wouldn’t listen to these notes
But her man wouldn’t pity her, though she loved.

“Oh…Amanda…you pregnant? Are you out of your mind?!
No, stop crying. I’m kidding, love; all is fine.
What said the doctor? On ultrasound, is all fine?
Is it a girl you would name or a petty Brian?”
News soon reached Idyllia’s ears, milked her eyes.
She looked to the sky; one question : WHY?”

 “You wouldn’t listen to all my wise words,
There you ago again! Take a dekko;
His baby girl growing in the whore!”
Words as fake as she who spoke.
Scornful look at her friend. She was on
Replacing Amanda, Idyllia; life was a lilo.

“Rhoda, incarnate of the beauty on a Queen Anne’s lace.
So honoured to be here with you in this place.
Just two of us. Oh! How perfectly chiselled is your face.
I wish I could restart life’s race;
Reincarnated, never known Idyllia nor Amanda’s face.
Simply know no face but yours, my wish.

“Rhoda?! Oh cruel earth; even my best friend lies
To me, cheats! Wish I had never received life;
A poisoned gift it was. Mum, tell me why?
One reason why should stay alive; no cyanide?
Honey, it’s over! That was the last slice.
I am gone, wish you happiness down the aisle.”
 

“My word…you are the stupidest bloke.
Under your nose all the while; loving looks
Winks, my kinky outfit each time I come.
Not even the change of voice when I talk
To him? I had it long going on,
Go cry your sorrows away, toilet roll.
 

“Rhoda incarnate of Mercury’s dishonesty,
Yet icon of an Ostrich’s stupidity.
Never would you conjecture in your worst dream
That only Idyllia is going to win.
Yes a sick child grows in a sick me;
A disease carnal nights passed onto Pete.
Long had he considered Idyllia unworthy
Of sharing his bed, and has transmitted
To me and you and me instead.”

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

Fade Slowly Away #humility #memento homo

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The silent slither of the spring sun
Swept over the seed. Timidly the shoot sprung,
Rising through storms, oblivious of mean thunder,
Scorning the shrubs which struggled for light under,
And those shrubs would fade, fade away.

Violent winds, silent breezes, it stood through weather’s caprice,
Braving drought, bathing in rain, strong through Aprils,
Till flowers dawned on its face; adorning.
And Nature paused in wonder adoring
And its gaze could not dare be swayed away.

Miles were trod and years flew by,
The proud-flowered still stood with style
Amidst the lower creatures, ruling and all,
And through winter cold grew in beauty and all
While others would wither or be cleared away.

Violent men have conquered and built empires theirs,
But all went up, and as gravity holds, returned to their peers.
So was nature cast, to the misfortune of the seed,
Which in beauty was so deceived as to scorn. So nature did
Turn its eyes away, and the flowers faded slowly away.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

The Return #soldiers #war #stopWar

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Pam-de poodle-pam
His eager war-worn fingers tapped away;
Home sweet home! How glad!
No more late night crawls,
Stealthy whispers; all will be better.
He stares at the dying sun, how glad!
Straight home, to the arms of his weary-with-waiting family.
All the dreary things he had seen, done;
The foetid smell of vicious powder at every shot,
His fallen friends, the disturbed erupting rubble
At each bomb blast!
Only homewards!
The truck pulled lazily away,
Grumbling at the load: a hoarde of weary fighters
Hope and ammunition spent, with hunger double bent;
Pulling sorry faces, Shakespeare could not have imagined better!
But under those scarred wrinkled overgrown brows
Flickered in their searching eyes
Some hope, hope of home comfort.
The truck plodded lazily on;
They chanted: one dead song it was;
Like ten drunkards at an opera.
Oh, but for the fallen, how much better it would have been!
Those memories plunged into his dud brain,
Digging tears from his stone-chiselled heart,
But he fought back; a soldier does not cry.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

Trapped #loneliness

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Once I strode in February’s sunny clothes,
And flowery fields and melodious fragrance thereof,
And there, set my nose
To receive that love
Of nature for a meek mortal moping along.

Then I set my ear to hear birds cheer
As each peer blended tweet and chirp with debonair.
“How blessed!” I sweared
And danced in the bare,
With the air of memories of past royal fairs.

Then I set my ear as one sang out of tune;
A young flown off too early, but crashing on the flower dunes,
Saharan in their beaut’
Like Kalahan before the prefix “Super”
He was lost and it stirred thoughts of pity in my top cocoon.

Steeped in beauty sublime, though heavy in my core,
(and heavier yet my heart was before a sight so sore)
I walked over
To hold the fallen soldier,
While brooding over thoughts obscure and heavier than the pain I bore.

I softly made approach, and it fluttered to the rear,
Wrapt in goose fear, I looked up to his peers
And beckoned as it would hear,
While I approached with measured care
And the weeds slowly recovered as my foot rose slowly into the air

And softly settled before me; I’s still wrapt in its tune
Which with orchestra frenzy was shriller and sang of doom
To long gone parents, who
Would have saved it could
They. One frail voice drowned in the insouciance of elders so rude.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

Why the silence? #abuse #paedophilia #pedophilia

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There’s not a rustle in the garden.
Lucy is looking at the brow of her mom;
Looking for a crease there saying the words mom’s harbouring.
Looking through her salty eyes, listening past her chest’s drums.

Listening past her sobs for comfort
From the voice which had sent her hence:
The flask of food she had to lovingly port
To her uncle who was always funny with his winks.

Looking past her tears for feedback.
That day, the winks became vehement pulls,
And the behemoth with winks rushed her to the back,
So her screams and fighting were vain pitiable  tools.

She just let this old cat out of her bag,
From years of pillow tears, shame and disgust.
She’d called her mom aside into where the  cricket brags
So her shame might be shared with as few people as must.

The disbelief Lucy saw stung her even deeper,
As she sought a sign to make things better.
But the brow didn’t crease, or change in any manner,
And the silence made Lucy hate herself for bringing up this matter.

(c) Nyonglema

Continue reading Why the silence? #abuse #paedophilia #pedophilia →

sadness

Rainy Season #Murphy’sLaw

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We ran from outside, ducking and hiding
As rain in monstrous drops our faces a-riding
Drenched our gear
But we made it in here
…then the roof caved in and rain did more riding

(c)Nyonglema

sadness

Sheep in the fold

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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

sadness

African Seed

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Terror lurks in the darkened eyes of a growing child

As each minute she dips into the shrieks from her mama, 25;

Marked dad curled in silence on the ground, wanting life,

Marked by another man who’d barely seen seasons 25.

  

She recalls how daddy cried out and fell silent to the ground.

Mum recoiled at many punches many staunch “men” had found.

She was 4 back then, and saw as men 12-year olds from out of town

As they ripped her mama’s clothes…she closes her eyes, counting each heart pound.

  

She recalls that red stream that slithered to her hidden corner

Soaking her skirt; soaking in hurt like staring at the sun’s corona.

Outside guns rattled, taking out all who could mourn her.

Lonely, the tears trickled down slowly, spelling “Were’t I wasn’t born, Ah!”

  

Slowly the tears trickled down that lonely jaw…

“Jane”, cried the professor, “What’s the result of this mixture?”

Jane knew not what was before, she stood there distraught.

She wishes she could do better, but her past sticks in the picture.

  

(c) Nyonglema