sadness

Why the silence? #abuse #paedophilia #pedophilia

Leave a comment

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 →

joy

The Chameleon @jollaHQ #AmbienceFeature #jolla #chameleon

Leave a comment

The lion levies fear upon the jungle
But the elephant trumps all other beasts
In respect and command, for not the bloody feasts
But size, stature,sagacity are its angle.

But of all the beasts, but one will wonder
The eye and stealthily win the Darwin fight
By changing its hide, instead of cowardly flight,
To match the colour of all it ponders.

(c) Nyonglema

fear

The other side of Freedom #theOtherView #EvilBegetsEvil

Leave a comment

They said they loved me.
Then, the metal beasts came, soaring over me
Heaping dust and blood on our city streets,
As their lethal load hit like rain sheets.

I watched their love puncture the city walls
And sever the sinews off the boy and his ball
Leaving the mother crying for her son, then his dad
Till her tears meant nothing in the wailing myriad.

I saw the hate build with each blood drop
Drawn from the soldiers and innocent. Drop
For drop, survivors intend revenge upon this love shown:
This false love which spurs only hate till we’re all gone.

(c) Nyonglema

This is a view from the other side of fanatism. Taking more weapons to the Middle East will only push more bereaved honest Muslims in despair to take up arms to avenge their lost ones: in that state where all is lost, the fanatics find fodder for their ideas, and turn these honest citizens into murderous terrorists. There has to be another way. A politician suggested diplomacy and negotiations. May another way be found, for bloodshed will only lead to more bloodshed. May the souls lost in the wars on both sides R.I.P.

joy

Learning the Computer #millenials #2000kids

Leave a comment

Most perplexing about the capacity of human brains,

Is the flexibility felt when my sons learn computer games.

I watch them go from that searching stare of silent innocence,

Lying in crib or mat, swatting at pendants as if in offence

To swiping and stabbing with index finger at all passing tablets,

Cellphones, my poor laptop! If there’s a display and app-lets

Or full-blown applications with colours which beckon,

They’re game for clicking about and that’s done heavy wreckage on

The peripherals peacefully attached to the gizmo they batter

In their quest for quenching ardent curiosity in their grey matter.

But these steps though hilarious to watch at length,

I know, are the steps which guided will lead to full strength.

Yup!

But the hardware would have suffered massively in the event.

(c) Nyonglema

I dedicate to the kids of the 80s…remember your parent’s LCD calculator?….yeah!

love

Whispers in the Night #supportWidows #supportWidowers

Leave a comment

This is a poem I submitted as a submission to a competition on Poetry Soup. The idea was to write lyrics to the instrumental Life story by Peter White. Maybe you’ll hear me sing to this soon :-). But you go ahead, have some fun with the words, and share to your friends. Who knows, this could be your The Voice moment.


Whispers in the night, longing for your ears
To drown every fear
But the sorrow sleeps with me tonight.


Whispers in the night, saying a bitter prayer,
Gone the summer cheer,
Only cold snow fills me deep inside.


Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared;
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.


Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.


Whispers in the night, saying our favorite prayers
Seeing you everywhere
Your smell still lives painfully in this house


Whispers in the night: “Oh why not a few more years?”
Still so much to share!
Nobody to hug and care for life!


Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.


Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.


(c) Nyonglema

joy

Dance #dance

Leave a comment

DJ Drop the needle on the record
And send strong waves singeing my synapses,
Nudging my senses, confounding each cord
Composing my sinews to move in accord,
Enthralled by the notes dancing on the staff.

(c) Nyonglema

fear

The Irony of the Red Smiling Cyclops #nuun #nassara #genocide #isis

Leave a comment

It appeared on the doorpost as a Cyclop’s smiley face
For some Cyclops WhatsApp icon, but red-themed application
Yes gruesome red, in contrast to the expectation
You would get from a smiley face, even for a Cyclops.
It quizzed my curiosity and I dug further on Google’s interface.

It appeared on the search page as the queen Isis,
Long told in Hieroglyphics, Cyrillic and Roman alphabet,
Patroness, mother, queen, blessings with love met,
But unlike these grim Arabic script in an ominous logo,
And tales of death, pain littered with deeper crises

It told of “nuun”, 14th letter of a blessed script
In which many beautiful and wise thoughts found life,
A letter which told of blessing and not of strife
Being in a position multiple of seven, a number blessed
By God Himself when he Earth and Heaven in 7 breaths whipped

It told of the Magen David, a shining star, which should be a good thing
Only that it brings memories of gaunt bodies piled in trucks
And human experimentation, and as history at our door knocks
And Isis or Isil opens to let in what we dread most
“Nuun” is stuck in my iris with pain and scary sting.

For I have seen the blank stare of heads painting in red drips the pickets
And Leonidas’ 300-style gore re-enacted in modern city streets
As heads are divorced from bodies and all around are scared heartbeats
For even bloodied child clothes cover head-less bodies,
As Christians are beheaded like one would roast crickets.

It brings back memories of my ancestors up in the Samba regions,
Fleeing the harsh choice given to them by the jihadists:
To adorn the village picket or join the cause of the Islamist,
Forced to create a third choice, which was to leave their homes,
Friends and family to pseudo-Islam or lurid lethal lesions.

Is it that time again for Iraqi Christians?
Shall the world once again watch the Red Indians’,Tutsis’, and Jews’
Story take gruesome form and hack through human sinews?
How many litres of innocent blood, and kilogrammes of hacked human flesh
Are needed to realise the vanity in the life of Homo sapiens?

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

Rainy Season #Murphy’sLaw

Leave a comment

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

love

Crazy in Love #Love

Leave a comment

What fluttery feeling fills my mind so?
Why my quickening heart beats in frenzy
When I hold your frail fingers in my grasp
And pull you closer to count your heartbeats
As in unison these frantic pumps hum
The melody so sweet to Cupid’s ears?

Ah my sweet silken-skinned angel-voiced love,
Today we dine, wine, tender kisses share
To build this seed beyond our human grasp.
Forever feels like now and though time’s pleats
Unfold to drive us to top or bottom,
Now feels right; the benchmark to future years.

The fear the future bears my enthralled heart…
The fear that in future we grow apart
Grips my night time dreams as you in my grasp
Peacefully cuddle close in cosy sheets
As if to console thoughts so bothersome,
Thoughts of you looking back as my heart shears.

To miss the well won’t leave my spirit well.
To miss you…well…pain I can hardly tell,
For just the thought stings like hornets: a wasp
For each bone, tissue thought…I clutch the sheets.
Now feels right: you peaceful on my bosom
Healing these imps which are but baseless fears.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Patience #beTheChange #Gandhi #startChange

Leave a comment

Quietly waiting…patiently waiting.
It’s been 30 long years in this carousel
Going round and round without abating:
Same pane on the windows and tears on the curtains,
The changing weather leading to animals mating
And flowers changing, then dying, then blooming again
Contrasting so badly to my life monotonously deflating.
Some say it’s ageing, the journey we all will take
To grey and wither, but I’m heavily hating
The fact that it but happens to me. The same thing
Over and over, but as disappointing as bad blind dating.
The same sorry sentences engraved in processed wood
To misinform me, make me mellow, sedating
My wisdom to the point I know no better
Than to sit distraught, depressed, desperately waiting;
Waiting for the change Sam Cooke promised.
Waiting instead of starting change, waiting patiently.

(c) Nyonglema

Words from today to stir a new tomorrow from yesterday

Nnjika

Count your blessings

HIT THE MARK MORE OFTEN

Hit the mark more often

MEIJI'S LITTLE CORNER

Reading, Writing, Hearing and Tasting the Art of Life

Linda J. Wolff - Poetry. Urban Pen Publishing. Resources.

Poems in a Coffer

When reluctance gives in to the urge of expression....