New Beginnings

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Poetry

I seek new beginnings,

New seeds to plant, new lands to teal

New rivers to fish and game to hunt.

I seek new beginnings,

Virgin bamboo to build cabins.

I seek lands where the wintry sunlight is forever sweet,

And birds in  evergreen forests sing.

I seek new beginnings,

In lands where wild fruit thrives,

And wild bees brew a sweet wonder.

Where river water flows clean

And seas are grave quiet.

I seek new beginnings

So hold my hand and come with me.

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Root of evil

The Alfa female of destruction,
Death that walks clad in a smile.
Wont you please look at her,
There hung like a budding root of evil
Dripping of seeds of molten hate,
Like Lucifer’s concubine.
She treads soft but there leaves gangrene
That rots like desert deserted daffodils
Wilting around a rusty oasis
Cursing at the unforgiving sun .
She owns the dark secrets of night
Buried in its darkness,
Mother of those that slay.
Yet for her we still pray,
God Bless.
Amen………

To the American Soldiers that there died.

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death

When the reaper halts taking the young,

And the Nun’s death prayer for the youth heard no-more.

Then i like a comet will ignite.

When the young draw the funeral curtains,

Muscling digging cold graves.

And the old under funeral palls rest, smiling

To a life well lived,

And there in a peaceful depart coiling

Just like nature intended.

Then i like a hobbit will run the streets,

And there my harmonica joyfully blast.

Singing farewells to the gory sight of a youth’s grave,

The sad wail of a teenage widow.

The whipping orisons from muzzles of sin.

The Afghan dust,

The suicide bomber’s chant.

The death of innocent juveniles

No wars, no wars, no wars chanting

I will blast loud,

Like a trumpet of Revelations.

For wars will away journey

Along with the death of the young warriors.

Rest in Peace.

My Africa

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African Poetry

How can i forget,

The sweet caress of the African sun.

The cool summer days,

The sobbing winters.

How can i forget

The singing voices of the African Swazi virgins

Dancing with reeds around their proud King.

The ripe breasts of Lesotho maidens,

The firm thighs and tattooed faces of Zulu beauties.

The respect of the Vemba,

The Chewa’s dances,

The bow of the Shona women,

And the dance of the Tswana of the Kalahari.

The smile of the Ethiopian Nuns.

How can i forget,

The chatter of the veld monkeys,

The stampede of the migrating wildebeest,

The songs of African parrots,

The trumpeting herd of elephants,

The hoot of night owls,

The cheetah’s sprint and the springbok’s run,

A magical wonder.

How can i forget

The starving children of Somalia,

The strangled masses by a poverty noose

The dying, the lost and the forgotten.

How can i forget?

My Africa.

My dream of Paris

I walked with a smile
Down the orchard paths of Paris gardens.
Birds in the fruit trees there sang
To the sweet ripening vines and peaches.
Untamed zephyrs caressed my face
Like the coax of an Indian conjurer,
The sweet scent of vines danced in my nostrils.
Farewell i bid to the African dew  ,
The buffalo calls,
The laughing hyenas and wa-hu of African baboons.
The stench of African slums
And the curse of drunk imbibers of sin.
Farewell,.
Slowly i walked on with a smile,
Bees and bumbles there singing,
Paris women with me walking tall.
“Comment allez-vous” they say
Voices coated in sweetness.
So still here i bid adieu,
Adieu.
Farewell the scotching sun
The African songs
And the unforgiving heat.
Let i in this dream ensconce.

Portrait of my lover

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African Poetry

If my lover could be a war,

She would be the gory war of Sparta.

Like an Amazon she wilds up,

And like a jade calmly calms too.

Her words are vile and brazen yet true

Like a serpent’s kiss or a baby’s kiss.

Her cuddle so cold and prickly, confusing

Like a porcupine’s embrace.

Loving her is so wrong, at times so right

For she knows not pity.

Yet look here i stand glowing,

Like the devil’s firefly.

She with her violence soothes me, redirecting me.

Her cuddle is cold but my haven,

For she holds me when i sweat hot

There my sweet comfort slumbers.

Pity she knows not,

Against the tongues that us try to part.

Her touch is a comforting caress,

Her smile a beam of wintry warm sunlight.

So i care less of the world’s voice,

When  my lover it mocks

I am the one loved.

After the Votes

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African Poetry

Time here stands,

Posing like a careless harlot.

Chariots to nowhere pass,

And at shadows our fear’s ghosts wave in silence.

We run after them,

Shouting in support.

Them like the Noble avoiding the earth’s filth.

We push, and push.

Chant, and chant more.

Till victory falls for them and they dance,

After the dance, the wind with them away journeys,

Like day they dress in thin air.

Till when we vote again,

And we start all over.