If I were a garden
in which diamonds grew;
If I were a clay pot
in which laughter brewed;
If I were a pond
in which stars were caught;
Would you find me strange?
What if I were a buzzing fly
that sang you lullabies?
Or that piece of wet log
which kept your flames alive?
What if I were a tattered rug
which kept you warm at night;
Would you find me strange?
LIFE IS AN ILLUSION
Life is an illusion – life is unreal,
A bleary image of something undefined.
Life is a dream, a cloudy mirage
Of what we wish to make of it.
Life is a picture envisioned,
A perfect blend of colours
That can´t go wrong.
Life is an unrealistic journey, its end
No one can tell;
Life is a tall tale, forged
Like knotted flax fibre.
Life is a board game, and we,
Its stereotypical figures
With no choice but to move uncertain,
Our only manual, the guide of hope.
Life is a game without a cheat,
With an end, to win or lose.
MY FORBIDDEN FRUIT
You think I don’t see how succulent you´ve grown,
How fresh you glow like well tendered plums?
You think I don’t smell that fragrance of nectar,
That smell of bloom from a whiff on your skin?
You think I don’t feel that drive that pushed
Adam to eat from his forbidden fruit?
Your skin, so firm, light, silky fresh
The only illustration of eternal youth.
And did I forget to say I know
That you beat all King Solomon´s wealth?
That all the birds that sing at dawn
Only echo memories of what you dreamt?
But like Cain bore that scornful mark,
I endure my curse in solitude.
For all the sons who roam this earth,
Only I cannot possess your worth.
´My sister ´ Do I smile at the thought
Or frown at the gift that nature gave?
We spent our childhood in the grass
And chased birds out our guava tree;
I´ve seen you cry, I´ve shared your joys,
The only friend I´ve always known.
But nature in its irony
Has made you my forbidden fruit.
HOME AND FREE
I’m home and I’m free;
I’m free from bondage.
I’m free to smile – I´m free to frown;
I’m free to tell my word.
The bitter storm of yesterday
Is but a tale I’ve known.
I’ve traveled far and I’ve seen things;
Emptiness veiled with desires.
I’ve seen the curse of the skies
Where all that fall are ice and pain;
When warmth is only but a dream,
And singing birds all flee.
I’m home and warm – I’m happy too;
The stars I’m free to count at night.
How lovely do our home-birds sing,
How lovely is a smile;
A smile but once not deceptive,
That holds no scorn within.
Our Mother
Our mother, you gave us birth
And like the hen, you’ve cared for us;
You shared with us the tiniest grains
Even when you felt for more;
Like a blessing, you gave us life;
Like waters, you quench our thirst;
Like a dove, you give us hope;
Like the moon, you make us dream;
Like a peacock, you are elegant;
Like a lotus, you are delicate
Like the roses, you are joy;
Like a queen, you reign our hearts.
And best of all that we can boast of,
You are you – you are our mother.
Like the eagles, we assure you;
Worry not, we will secure you;
When you weary take a rest,
For soon enough it’ll be our turn
To give you comfort and the joy,
That you’ve sacrificed for us;
And lift you high above the waters
Just to make you proud, our queen;
The juicy plums that hang so high,
We will stretch as high to reach.
And the few days you can live
Will be filled with sweets and smiles;
And when it’s time you take a rest,
We’ll nestle you and give you warmth;
And what a splendor it will be
To be hosted by the King;
Full of glory in His bosom,
With the angels all your friends.
We shall sing our very sweetest;
We shall dance our very latest;
Oh, our mother, we are honored
Just to know you gave us birth!
A Fiery Word
I looked back o’er the hills
And eerie did I see?
A fiery flame burning high,
That earth cravers did fear;
It ate up every bit in bits
Till not a green was spared;
And but a lonely speck I dropped
And fiery flames I see.
I looked back at my past
And eerie did I see?
A friend’s heart all torn in bits,
Old faithful smile was gone;
His strength all dissolved to not’n,
His pain run down his veins;
And only but a word I spoke
And hell, what I made him.
Pride Is Not My Entity
Pride is not my entity,
Pride is not my fame;
Pride is not my passion,
Pride is not my name;
Pride is not my foresight,
Pride is not my dream;
Pride is not my companion,
Pride is not my name;
The streets of gold I tread on,
Is not because I craved;
The countless times of laughter,
Had always been my prayer;
Who, but God has crowned me,
The ruler of my days;
And never did I yearn it,
But just grace I received;
Pride is not my entity,
Pride is not my fame;
Pride is not my passion,
Pride is not my name.
Lady Heart, Maiden Heart
Lady Heart, maiden Heart
Prettiest of all butterflies;
With dark-brown gloomy hair
A-flowing down her hips;
Her tiny wings of dazzling blue
Flip-a-flapping at her back;
She spends her day in my little garden
Amongst the poppies, roses and Daffodil’s.
´´Oh mine, oh mine´´
She admires;
Patting pollens from her stockings
Made of silky-blue summer petals;
Lady Heart, maiden Heart,
Prettiest of all butterflies.
A Six A-Sailor Men
Sail, O’ sail, a six a-sailor men,
A thousand tides a-fore to cross;
O’er billows roll aloft,
The captain perched a-top a dozen masts,
Steering on, his chalet drifts.
Sail, o’ sail, a-docking far away;
Ghostly days so many a-sailing;
The grey tides all a veil they see;
The greeny mountains,
A-vision only sees.
Roaring all a-fearsome like,
The ocean groans and toss’ a-might;
With six sailors weary and cursing,
The scarlet bed of sour and sick,
That moors o’er the tidy decks.
But hopes a-full, the greens they’ll see,
A-billows wide, they roll aloft.
Pinching fogs and breaking tides along,
Their chalet drifts,
A-sailing on.
‘Hippity-yo!’ a six sailors cheer,
Their goblets of wine,
‘eir beards down a-drips;
A bountiful eve, a merrily morn’
Ashore they pull, their wives a-sober meet.
To God Be The Glory
To God be the glory,
The morning groomed a-frolic;
The trees with a million leaves, all green,
Bow a-graceful to the King;
An inch I’ve grown and I see the skies wide,
With twinkles of light, all a-pearly;
The poppies shoot bright in crimson of red,
The butterflies hover
With moods all a-lovely;
A-sneaky they peak – the moles from their holes,
The peacocks boast – their feather eyes sure could see;
And all together, the skies we admire;
The birds flocking far, full of pride,
They are closer to God – You know?
But till the day is done and the eyes see not’n
It’s merry a-making,
To God be the glory.
´´OHENESE-FIE´´ POETRY 