It’s funny how “einsamkeit” (German for loneliness) sounds like “ensemble” (French for together), although both are so opposite one to the other…This is my painting of the most murderous mood a human can ever die into:
Frozen synapses:
Dosing awake, collapses
Into nothingness.
(c) Nyonglema
Thanks to @CrisisHuman for pointing out that “refugee” is just a bad way to disguise human beings displaced from their homes due to other human beings. We live at a time where more and more humans are losing everybody and everything, and have only the choice to leave to live. To all humans losing all, never lose hope….and to all of us, when will our greed stop?
All I wish is to feel your breath in the morning.
The morning bombs thundered our bonds
In shards of glass, piles of dirt and torn mounds
Of once friends, while we planned quickly to abscond
To anywhere Death wasn’t the only sound in the towns.
The blood-soaked dew stained our silent feet
Wading through the floating rattle from shots
Breaking the harmony of our adrenaline chorus of heartbeats
As we walked to the unknown only fearing to be caught.
The camp’s sunrise with promise showed over the horizon
And we got welcomed to our new life with silence
And hurting souls bundled in teary memories and sad songs
But respite too, and hope, nostalgia, food and tents
But all I wish is to feel your breath in the morning.
To wake and look at your eyes bouncing about in a dream
Of our new home, smiling that we made it out of mayhem
To peace. To see your chest heave, to watch the sweat beams
Glide along the tracks of mosquito bites on your bare skin
To feel the warmth you exude as if 35° Celsius
Wasn’t enough, while your hair moves in rhythm
With your sleepy breath, then you turn, oblivious
To all the homeless with us from various schisms.
And breathe heavily as if a sigh of deserved relief,
With the smile of our would-have-been 5 daughter,
Sleeping my pain away in this instant so brief
But healing wounds which would beat our dead doctor
To feel your breath every morning, my only wish
To feel alive again, after my numerous deaths.
Yes, just to feel your breath in the morning
To know I haven’t lost you too this morning.
(c) Nyonglema
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
“Leave me! You’re good for nothing!”
Hitherto have I heard nothing so numbing!
Whither would she tell me such a thing?
Weathers change, I’m still thinking
About that long gone valentine.
Weathers change, birds chirp and fade,
Velds grow and grey in life’s hasty wade.
I miss her, let’s call a spade a spade.
Since my silver lining got ripped off, I’m scared.
Gone gone are those pleasant songs of Valentine.
“Kiss me! You are really something!”
Why would such sweet surges be lost in
A single line: “You’re good for nothing!”
But why mourn, more fun’s coming …
But for now, I’ll be forlorn, oh gone gone Valentine.
(c) Nyonglema
After midnight, a tear dribbles down my jaw,
My heart is torn; the darkness is rushing in,
I have been waiting forlorn for the sun at my door,
To see Idyllia glaze when I gaze at my opened door.
But the night is still dreary
As I miss her charm
And I’m still weary
Like a workaholic farmer.
Reminescing of when it was still daylight,
More tears drooling from their seat tattoo my cheek;
No! We had never thought even of twilight,
And through each day, cloud-like glided with no foresight.
Like a barren prairie
I optimistically hope;
The dark is scary,
But my consolation is a dumb praying Pope.
The wall clock sings three and I acquaint despair,
For I realise the truth is yelling out.
I dry my tears, she won’t come, the truth stabs my Coeur.
But my wish for light is forever, past when I lose my hair.
Hope she’ll come back even as I occupy my hearse.
Farewell fair fairy,
My silken girl of Utopia,
My nights will always be dreary,
And great will my fear be,
But I shall be fine, Idyllia.
(c) Nyonglema
Where’s the sweet smile on the sunlit porch,
Sitting calmly and watching the world bustle by?
Where are the hugs from that sweet voice, pitch high,
But sweet soft? The flame on my darkness’ torch?
Where lie those sweet smells through the threshold,
Playing notes upon my nose, stirring thoughts in my tummy?
Where’s that sweet face like that on me,
Looking at me up and down like when I left the fresh mold?
Where’s that intangible love exchanged non-verbally,
As we shared recent events for hours,
You encouraging me to build my own life towers,
And those sweet thoughts shaping me morally and mentally?
Where’s the history of how you bore me 9 months,
And brought me through pain to this place of stress
Where I now have to live without your face,
Words, or touch till I’m done counting months?
Where are the trips to church, outings trips in the sun?
Where’s that beautiful chocolate skin you’ve given us?
Where’s the joy now that you’ve left us?
Where are you mum?
(c) Nyonglema
Wenn ich mich noch daran erinnere,
Wie die Trennung so plötzlich kam,
Verstehe ich gar nicht was schief ging.
Denke noch daran, wie schön alles anfing.
Wünsche mir, dass alles nicht so lief.
Eine aufgegebene Höffnung, die Liebe war nicht tief;
Sogar schwach, was fandst du schön in mir?
So eine Geschichte wir hatten, es war angenehm mit dir,
Aber jetzt ist es vorbei, und es bleibt nur das Gedächtnis.
Wenn ich mich noch daran erinnere,
Lange Nächte hatte ich, du warst mir nicht treu.
Immer kämpfte ich das Neid, ich bereue
Nicht dich gekannt zu haben.
Du hast mir gezeigt
Wie schlecht eine Frau beisst.
(c) Nyonglema
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
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
Reading, Writing, Hearing and Tasting the Art of Life
A Poet's Place | Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine is Publishing Poetry Submitted by Published & Emerging Writers,
When reluctance gives in to the urge of expression....
Living by Faith
thoughts from my mind to yours
