Categories
Poems

An Ode to Mangoes

Your fragrance,
Simultaneously bewildering,
And calming,
Sets into motion,
A desire for memories,
I follow my nose.

Ah, there you are,
A sight for sore eyes,
Pleasing curves,
Coloured softly and brightly,
Shades of green, red, yellow, and orange,
My entire being aches for you.

I move closer,
My heart beating faster,
My yearning for you,
And a past life,
Grows with every step.

I am here,
My precious,
I had forgotten,
My fondness,
for your plumpness.

I reach for you,
Feeling your soft skin,
Running my fingers,
Along your familiar shape,
One of you will not do,
I want all of you.

Come home with me,
I will bathe you,
Caressing you lovingly,
Before I devour you.

With every move of my hand,
You surrender,
Your wetness drips and splashes,
A heady sweetness,
From another world.

Your flesh in my mouth,
Intoxicating,
Ignites fireworks in my mind,
I struggle to consume,
Your every last drop,
Every last morsel,
I do not want to forget.

Categories
Poems

Social Isolation

He paces back and forth,
Stamping his feet,
And for good measure,
Flips over some furniture,
In the living room of my mind.

Dressed in slacks,
Shirt and a vest,
A tie and polished shoes,
Hair neatly parted on one side,
Moustache a neat horizontal patch.

Let me introduce you,
This is my madman,
He sometimes puffs on a pipe,
Pacing back and forth,
In my living room.

He is a man of many tongues,
Mumbling to himself in Turkish,
Cursing in German,
Yelling in French,
Arguing in English.

“Listen to me!”
In an operatic overture,
He gives multiple directives,
All conflicting with each other,
All seemingly both Right and Wrong.

So powerful,
I attempt to compensate,
Balance and direction,
But it’s too late,
In this moment,
One lens is blue and the other pink.

I scramble for my,
Compass of decision-making,
I cannot believe my eyes!
The madman’s cacophony,
Has led North chasing East,
West dancing around South,
True North rendered indecipherable.

He leads an orchestra,
Of conflicting instruments,
The Emotions section,
Clashing with the Logic section,
And the Perspective section trips on its own feet and plants its face into the ground.

All this in my living room,
Wherever shall I bring my guests?
And how will they react to this man?
He will surely spit in their tea,
And slap them upside the head.

Categories
Poems

A thoracic study

Dear reader,
I feel a lump,
Behind my sternum,
Lodged in place,
Neighbour to the heart.

We had talked about,
How we were different,
But the unspoken truth,
That our love for each other,
Was not strong enough,
To overcome those differences.
An untruthful truth.

Dear reader,
What is this lump I feel?
It will not leave me be,
Right between my lungs,
Tight.

Categories
Poems

Kindness and the Fool

The Fool is eternal,
Always there to greet you,
Under any circumstance,
With a cold grin,
That spreads from ear to ear.

The Fool comes to You,
Without a finger lifted,
The way you wish Kindness did,
But Kindness is no one’s weakness,
The exact opposite,
Of what the Fool consoles you:

“You’ve been hurt,”
The Fool cups your heart,
With a comforting hand,
Wicked with long sharp talons,
“Sharpen your words with my whetstone,
Brandish your daggers,
Red-hot your brand,
So as to leave them with a mark,
They shall soon not forget!
Ready your fiery whip,
If they show you kindness,
They are showing weakness,
An opportune instant,
To lash them across the cheek,
Leave them with a kiss,
A reminder of what is to come,
When they move against you.”

You look at Kindness,
Their back turned to you,
And so you lash your whip,
No obstacle to distract your aim,
A smile plays on your lips,
You’re winning,
You feel protected,
Righteous and with dignity.
You’ve been hurt.
Doesn’t Kindness understand?
That complete and utter fool,
Full of weakness!

You are legion,
Kindness has their back turned,
Not on You,
But on the Fool’s army.
What else would you call an army,
Of recruits who whip,
Lash and stab each other?
Unaware of any common cause,
Or of the mission?

Every now and then,
When there comes,
A synchronous lull,
Within their ranks,
Kindness sends some words,
For those who might know,
How to listen:

“I am Kindness,
I am a difficult choice,
As eternal as your Fool.

In my care,
Are a legion,
Which moves in unison,
They do not gain dignity,
By taking it from another,
Their worth immeasurable.

Your whips, brands, daggers, and words,
Leave only marks quickly healed,
My followers are survivors,
Humanity’s caretakers and builders,
Veterans of Fools’ armies.

My followers choose to be kind,
In spite of and despite,
The deepest of gashes in their hearts,
Now covered in scar tissue,
While yours continue to bleed,
Comforting talons digging ever deeper,
Every time you look to the Fool.”

Categories
Poems

Freedom

This beautiful bird,
Settling on a perch,
Colourfully bright,
With beak and bite,
And full of pride,
What a sight!

Here in this locked cage,
Again prepares her rage,
The fight of at least an age,
Well-worn this page.

She readies her stance,
For this next dance,
Her beak a sharp lance,
Eyes in a keen trance.

Moving swiftly into action,
Reduces her obstacle to a fraction!

This winged warrior,
Victorious in this skirmish,
Exits her prison with belief,
And with a sigh of relief,
Moves closer to freedom.

Finding comfort in larger bounds,
She claims the next perch,
And with keen eyes starts to search,
For the target of her next lurch.

Categories
Poems

Falling

My mind,
The angry fool,
Still stuck unpuzzling you,

My heart can no longer wait!

Let these words burst out of me,
Like my soul’s desire to tear towards you,
To mix with yours and become one,
And it would if it were not for my being.

As if fed by the morsel,
It must remain content with your touch,
Your kisses.

Your love is a source of inspiration,
Your eyes are a source of healing,
Your lips parted are silent beacons,
Their call to me louder than a whole world.

Your hands reaching out to me,
Radiating love,
And time slows down.

Dear lover of mine,
My gratitude deepens for you,
Each time our eyes meet,
And my mind must now follow my heart.

Categories
Poems

A Masculine Perspection

Your feminine enthralls me,
Draws me;
My masculine sees you as beauty pure,
Incapable of seeing anything else,
And why would it try?

What does it want, you ask?
And quite right,
For trouble often follows it closely,

I will tell you what this accursed says to me:

Liberate your eyes,
Let them caress her every dimension,
Envelope her in your arms,
Warmth, worldly and deep;

Ignite a fire so powerful,
She will want to fight for her world,
With a fierceness that slows time,
A light that can and will shine,
Brighter, hotter, and longer than yours.

Let her be the architect and you the builder,
And so the designs would be so grand.

It says to me:

With every glance,
You will understand better why it is,
You’re drawn and fixated,
Incapable of seeing anything less than a goddess;

Cursed nonetheless,
A curse that the masculine seeks,
To unravel,
To turn from chains and thorns,
Into sustenance and warmth,
Continuity and life,
Tenderness and sensuality.