I am locked in, shut out from the ordinary. This room bears the stench of dried blood, I need a rescue. I am shut in, locked out of my comfort zone which gladly hides my every flaw. Now am laid nude my scars are seen, my flaws; your cynosure, my thoughts, bare to your ever … Continue reading Locked Out
Bring the dried logs of your old hopes, The hollowed-out promises of your yesterdays Combustible mixes of regrets and faith The varnished twigs of fading successes Bring it all here; Let us build a year high pile, From the flaked-off rot of 365 days And make a pyre – a bonfire, For the old year, … Continue reading Blazin’ Off
Happy endings which weren’t meant to be— As they were considered by the majority. Teardrops trailing feeble steps Bottled up memories never to have been kept. Setting suns and crescent moons Never enough light present to lift the gloom. Droopy eyes, wearied from sights unpleasant, Overcrowded heart with tragedies as tenants. The heaviest … Continue reading The Scars Sing
What if I could place my foot in each imprint And trace my way back to the past What if I could once again live In that cocoon of completeness and laughter What if I could still be that And be in the now still… The tree fell: The iroko that had made the canopy … Continue reading What if…
This is the second in the series, you can read the first here . I grew up in a Christian home and my parents were staunch believers in the ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ verse of the bible. In fact, no day goes by without the quotation of that verse by my mum … Continue reading Feelings of Nostalgia – My mama’s armoury
From the past the present is born. The present is a reflection of the past. The old men of today were young boys of yesteryears, and the old women of yesteryears. These are the ancients, full of wisdom and life experience. They who have seen it all. The babies of yesteryears are matured. They now … Continue reading War of the Eras
I was once pretty, Samira with the brown skin, luscious brown lips and big dark eyes. Now I looked like a skeleton coated with flesh. My eyes had become small with small bags underneath. My over stretched skin could feel the starchy hospital bed sheet. The white walls of my small hospital rooms, was a … Continue reading Cough Syrup, My Friend.
My past trots behind me an obstinate shadow; It turns neither left nor right but plies my very route. Often I wish it gone like some eerie nightmare; Like a cold, wintry night that melts under the smiling sun. Again and again I rewrite it but it remains unchanged; Haunting my soul day and night … Continue reading Haunted