Poetry

Blue Bird #Poetry

There is a bird on the tree.
The blue one.
No, not the blue bird, the blue tree.
The one in my mind, the one I am so fond.

There is a bird on the tree.
The sad one.
No, not the sad tree.
The sad blue bird.

The blue bird sings a song I know.
A song of pain not long ago.
Of pain beneath the skin, way below.
A song within the bone’s marrow.

There is a bird on the tree.
The bird that shares my mind with me.
The bird that scoffs and shares my dreams.
The same bird that hugs when tears reveal.

There is a bird on the tree.
My calm betrothed friend.
Last night he watched the tears fade.
He watched the cutter approach with haste.

My bird left the tree.
He found peace in another’s mind.
My troubles he couldn’t solve.
Now, I’m alone.

He left me, all alone.

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Stories I never Tell…

A light touch. Her smile, I wish.
A soft voice.Her thoughts. I wonder.
A faint skin rub. A soft touch.

Linger. Longer. Lead.

Adequate, her features. Neither harsh nor feeble.
Adequate her tone. Neither commanding nor demanding.
She waltzes her way into my dreams.
Yet, errs at the rim.

Linger. Longer. Lead.

Her thoughts? I’d pay to own.
Her hand? I’d kill to touch. Soft firm heaven.
A piece of blessed flesh.

How does she look when the lights are out?
What does she whisper when her voice is low?
What do her hands say?
What does her body scream?

Who does she want to be?
Who does she want to be with?
Who can’t she be without?

The thoughts. Questions. Puzzles.
Dreaded answers and ghostly futures.
Answers only she knows. Yet…my mind…

Linger. Longer. Lead.

Her face lingers in my lids.
Her touch feels longer when I’m alone.
Her voice leads my heart.

Linger. Longer. Lead.

Stories you’ll never know.
Stories I never tell.
Stories you shouldn’t know.

The Most Beautiful Human I Ever Met.

The most beautiful human I met didn’t look nice.
She wasn’t very attractive. She didn’t have white teeth nor an Ad smile.

The most beautiful human I met didn’t have physique in quantities.
She was imperfect, had mood swings and a unique set of qualities.

The most beautiful human I spoke to didn’t have a cute giggle.
I couldn’t help but smile whenever she giggled.

The most beautiful human I ever met never told me she loved me.
We spoke more during our silences. It irked me how time made it its mission to flee.

The most beautiful woman I met didn’t have a cute moniker for me.
Neither did I. She called my name in the same way all and sundry did.
Only, my heart felt at peace with the same sound.

The most beautiful woman I ever met didn’t speak French.
We hardly spoke in pidgin and we never wrote each other letters.
I awaited her SMSes and stared at my blue Whatsapp ticks with ardor.

The most beautiful woman I spoke to never ever bored me.
She tried. And failed. And tried some more. Then failed the more.
We had nothing in common. Our realms were worlds apart. Our thoughts, in sync.

I don’t know what love is. I don’t know how long it will last and I don’t know if she is “the one”.
Heck, there is no such thing as “the one”.
She is the most beautiful person I want to be with everyday.

Simply.

Live with me. Or leave me die.

Darkness paints my lids with flavors of you.
Silence screams your voice.
The freedom of your grip erases my selfishness.
In your eyes, the past is insignificant.

Time stops flowering when my thoughts mingle with the memory of your laugh.
I want to touch your soul- with my heart I want to drink your essence, for your you to become my me and our us to be ours.
I relish your image in my lids. I feel the heavens jealous of my affectation. My sickness. You.

You devour my being with thoughts of procreation. You plant indelible desires of intimacy. My flesh only truly rests when merged with yours.
What madness has befallen me? What curse would He let take over me- His pride and possession?
You have become my madness, the voice in my head. I smell you everywhere, even where you weren’t – in my past.

Or might you be my soul mate? May we have met in other streams? Could this be but our eternal dissertation?
My Cleo, I fear death. I fear pain.
My greatest fear, that would rack the greatest pain, will be your departure.

Live with me. Or leave me die.

The Cat and his Lady

On my trip from Buea, I once met a cat,

White and grey, a feline brat.

In a bag he was, stay still he didn’t.

By jove I prayed, hop out, he shouldn’t.

 

The lady who bore him, was very indifferent

To the ranting and caution of passengers present.

I thought to myself, “What manner of travel is this?

“To be bundled with strangers and now a cat to kiss?”

 

In terror I watched as she bundled the fiend,

In a ‘sacs and motors’ she put the not so human being.

With each pot hole, he squeaked.

With each sharp squeak, I peeked.

 

I wondered if he paid his taxes.

Whether he used the internet or prophylaxis.

After the silence, I thought he was dead.

With the next series of squeaks, I wished I was sort of deaf.

 

Why would a cat travel?

Why slave it to grovel?

Inside a ‘sacs and motors’ in a moving car?

On a road filled with pot holes and treacherous tar!

 

I felt bad for my fiend the cat.

Truly, I prefer cats to…say…bats!

I wouldn’t want one for breakfast. Yuk.

I wouldn’t own one even to please Bjork.

 

But the lady in question I find very despicable.

I wish I could bring her to justice to a feline authority capable.

Oppressing a feline and letting his rights go to neglect!

Lady! The least you could have done, was buy him a ticket!

“I love him”, you say

“I love him”, you say.

In another life, I could be your lover.
In another place, it would be my lips you’d taste.

You seem happy. I know you’re not.
He seems faithful. You know he’s not.But you can’t leave him. “I love him” you say.More than twice, he cheated. More than thrice he lied.
More than once you caught him, more than twice you cried.

“I love him”, you say.

Is it him? Or is it ‘love’ you love?