Eden- the continued story

These are more thoughts on the sides of love:

First published on the 17th of April 2010

This poem is put here at the request of my dear friend. It is a missing link in the 'Contrast of a Telling Heart' note.


Love like life is a gamble. The best we can hope for is to hold a good set of cards and play a good game.

God help us all.


Eden


I don’t know, how despite
the signs I married him.


Osa bo le gbe mi
Se mi bo se bami

His love is tight.

I stay here by decree

of his telling glance. His

warning touch of perceived endearment.

I daren’t move, gritted smiles.

Laughter torn from deep in my soul,

laughter,which follows the mandate:

Mirth or pain.


Osa bo le gbe mi
Se mi bo se bami

His love is hard.

His soft word placed in my twisted ear,

‘This hurts me more than you’

I’m a child, waiting certain punishment, then

the apologies flood my lap, as my

punisher blames regretful tears on me.

My fault for being not so right

‘See what I make him do?’

Osa bo le gbe mi
Se mi bo se bami


His love is deep.

Colours banned from my palette

Gold is sallow, silver is crass

The query of who’s mating dance I wish to attract

makes the peace of drabness comforting.

I am a bird of paradise made for one

garden, the flaming swords are for my protection.

Does it matter that my feathers droop and fall?

Osa bo le gbe mi
Se mi bo se bami


His love is constant.

Vows are taken seriously here,

there is only one god in this house and he's not above.

I walk and hear clinking gently

reminding me of no escape.

I am a gold-ringed prisoner.

This union is till death, accident-prone,

my sure feet unsteady, I will walk into

another doorknob, trip down another stair.

I am certain of this truth.


Osa bo le gbe mi
J’owo se mi bo se bami

His love will be death.

I don’t know, why despite
the signs I married him.

Contrast of A Telling Heart

There are so many sides to love, here are two ways I've explored. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

First published 29th March 2010


Many things happen in a girl's life and boy! Have I had my drama? I'm back to not sleeping again, as you can see by the time (please pray with me) not being able to eat and this is serious ( I mean I went to a £9 chinese buffett and I was looking at the food like schwepps, even though I was hungry fa!) so it is serious and just general fatigue (I've been in my 'Lord change my life for good' status for so long, I need a new song)

Well in all that jambolaya, I've been writing! (At least one thing stays constant!) And here are two poems. I wish to hear what you have to say about them. I performed them at the Tower of Babel organised by CAN but I can't seem to be able to upload the video. As soon as I can, I will. I also want to give a massive shout out to a friend and brother Lookman Sanusi-Thank you for the honest edit in The Recall. I am grateful that you don't look at my toes; I must learn to walk in sturdy shoes. Thank you.



The Recall


Iwo ko, emi ni
Emi ni, iwo ko
Iwo ni, mo ni, mo fe
Ni okan mi yan.


The recall of your skin

On my memory is loud.

I haven’t met you but

I see you.

The image of your eyes

Beckon me to pleasant dreams.

I don’t know you but

I see you. I see you so well.


Iwo ko, emi ni
Emi ni, iwo ko
Iwo ni, mo ni, mo fe
Ni okan mi yan.


Your lips caress the edge

Of my mind as I imagine

The ecstatic response my

Sighs will convey. Your hands

Teasing the secret thoughts in

dark recesses.

I’ve never touched you but

I feel you ease in, deep.


Iwo ko, emi ni
Emi ni, iwo ko
Iwo ni, mo ni, mo’fe
Ni okan mi yan.


In the muted lights of my desire

I will picture you as I deem fit

You will be my blaze of genius

I, your restless artist.

You will be

Known, seen

Touched, felt

Be.


Iwo ni, emi ko
Emi ko, iwo ni
Mo’ni, mo’fe, mo’yan
Ni okan mi yan.



Abuse


Just so you know...


Eti kan, Oju kan, Owo kan, Apa kan
Atori ta fina ‘yale, wa l’orule fun ‘yawo


He took me like pieces of barbecued beef

Slapped me within the thighs of his bread

Plunged his salami in.

Squeezed his mustard on my weakened, marinated flesh

Clamped me tight between his fleshy hands and bit.

I oozed, fought in rebellion

Toughened gristle hiding within his teeth to prove a point.

There are many ways to have a woman but

I’m not telling.


Eti kan, Oju kan, Owo kan, Apa kan
Atori ta fina ‘yale, wa l’orule fun ‘yawo


He took me like slivers of onion rings

Crushed me in the creases of his grater

Stirred his pickle in

Drizzled his olive oil on my roughened, coarse skin

I clumped together, denying him his desire

Maybe I would be left alone,

Surviving this night, escape perhaps, finding help

Tell all.


Eti kan, Oju kan, Owo kan, Apa kan
Atori ta fina ‘yale, wa l’orule fun ‘yawo

Teardrop-February Blues

I have found that I have a lot of angst with regards to February. It is a month I wish to wish away ASAP, so we can get on with the business of living. I am so not a fan of February! Many have their theories as to why-my response is 'to each , his own' I don't have to have a reason for not liking something and that's that.

So this month, I'll be posting the many angst-filled lines I have written over the years in this particular month, who knows , maybe it will all make sense in the end.

First published 24 February 2008

If I have learnt anything recently, it is that everything is never quite enough. there will always be the hunger for something more, there never really can be perfection, so we keep reaching forth, and the most content people are those who know how to pick their battles. I am learning.

A wise man said to me once, and I must point out that he was a bit fed up of the world and in particular, with my whinings about my expectations of others. He said 'blessed are those who expect nothing, they shall not be dissappointed, but will always open to the possibility of being pleasantly surprised'

Think about that. So here is 'Teardrop' Enjoy


Teardrop


Wind against my face.
Heartbeat echo fear, passion, hurt.
I am stretching, my hands in front of me,
as the waves from the keys hit my fingertips

Heartbeat echo fear, passion, hurt.
The tune of blood rising to the surface of my skin.
My legs lift from the ground, toes pointing down.
Its crescendo rises from the earth, tumbles into my thighs.

I am stretching, my hands in front of me.
'Take me back', I cry, to the place of my innocence,
where I wandered on virgin plains, a precocious child,
sucking rhythms from the nectar of the grass.

As the waves from the keys hit my fingertips,
I learn anew, "love is a verb."
My teardrops hit the fire and fry.
Broken down by the climax, I am dust in the air.

"Water is my eye, most faithful mirror"
It crashes as I melt into sound.