Freedom

Every breath
Every step
Every thought
Every word

To live
To be
To act
To feel

There is not much to say
Perpetually fighting to stay
There is so much in its way
To be free is all we pray

.
Hair the colour of Ravens,
skin the colour of Crows,
eyes the colour of Rooks,
somehow it just flows,
as she walks
     down the path
               like a bride,
with the sway
     of the sultry,
and the smile
                     of the Huntress.
Her way lined
by the bowed heads
of willows,
                   meandering,
with the feint ******
of water bubbling
     over pebbles,
from the mountain stream
that wends in consort
and chimes
        with the bells on her toes.
Her breath, mist
in the morning air,
as she seeks her prey,
     a victim of lust,
with no pardon,
mossy rocks glide by
          as her pace slows,
dew soaking her feet,
     dawn glade,
                          the jaws of her trap.



© Pagan Paul (17/08/18)

I am terribly near sighted
Consciously and subconsciously
I see not what I have saw
And
I hear not what I have heard
Sometimes,
In fact most of the time,
I don’t even feel
What I should have felt

But the mirror of life
It keeps a record of every little thing
And I relive in my dreams
All that I have missed

And much much more:

All I ever need
Is just a little hint of life:

Your lovely little smile
I failed to respond to during the day
Would haunt me
With what would seem like
A whole lifetime of sweet champagne
And
Kisses of cherries and grapes
With a scent of longing that
Fills me to the core with
Twinges that burst throughout
My entire being
Shining brightly from
Every single particle of my
Soul

The little chirps and calls of crickets
That alternate between the oblivious
Moon upon a bed of restless stars
And the wizened sun
Would always take me to a land
Unlived, untouched, unruined
A vast nonexistence
A vast ruin full of life
Where I have never been so alone
Yet so fulfilled, so joyful, and so
Free

And

The dreamless gale that
Would raise me up to mountains
From which I can finally gaze down
With sure and confident eyes
Upon the whole of life
And
See, sense, and feel
Every scenery and every being
With the purest of colours
Rowing down the crimson rivers
In a canary boat caressed by
A forest of ocean blue sequoias
Blanketed with a soup of
Violet stars
Into the heart of the universe

Where everything that have lived
Or could have lived
Never went away

Where nothing is ever gone
But just lost
So momentarily
Like a wandering child
Let out into the world
Seemingly defenselessly
Yet, perfectly safe
Under the hidden watch of
The mother

Where everything I love
Love me just as much
And so much more

Where I am never just me
But a child
A poet
A painter
A musician
An ancient pilgrim

Where I can fall into stars
And float up to the edge
Of the sky
Swim in the air without my feet
Ever touching the ground

Where I am finally
Held by you
The one person
I love most unyieldingly
In a death grip of never letting go.

Loving feelings can restore
balance to relationships.
If you can only bring yourself
to make it happen.
**** the ego and selfish pride
that imprisoned you.
Set yourself free and
go for the one
your heart seeks.
Nurture the one whom your
soul loves.
For out of your
efforts to come out
of your cocoon will emerge a
beautiful lifetime relationship.
A love that is deep
can flow like the
river that leaves its
bank and flood
the whole unimaginable places.
Just like a finger
dipped into the oil
can infest the whole fingers,
so is the love that
forgives penetrates
the whole body
and **** all the
vulnerability to
show it's wounded
face to the sun
without being shy.
Acceptance is of
extreme importance
to bring desired pleasure
to placate and nurture
the heart to heal.
With pleasure the heart
is reverted to a blissful
sequence that is lovely
where both hearts will
feel safe enough to let
their inner child out
of the box to play.
Victory is accorded
to such a joyful end
while the relationship blooms.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

(After Cavafy)

The sun flattens your vision
   to a wavering point.
      You search for a different sun.
         There is no other.


The wind stymies your breathing
   to an asthmatic wheeze.
      You search for a different wind.
         There is no other.


The sea shortens your journey
   to an anonymous port.
      You search for a different sea.
          There is no other.


The sky opens its vistas,
   vast, beyond your reach.
      You search for a different sky.
         There is no other.


The city blots your horizon
   with soot, smoke and ash.
      You search for a different city.
         There is no other.
 
The day dissolves in hours
   without number or name.
      You search for a different day.
         There is no other.


Beauty upholds its ideal
   like a statue without wings.
      You search for a different Beauty.
         There is no other.


The word pollinates the page
   with a frail, feeble sense.
      You search for a different word.
          There is no other.


The self mirrors the cosmos,
   a contracting black hole.
      You search for a different self.
          There is no other.


The poem laughs at your yearning
   for Art’s Eternal Form.
      You search for a different poem.
          There is no other.


So you write the same poem
   from the same shrinking self,
      with the same weakling words,
         seeking the same ideal Beauty,
 
On the same day after day,
    in the same ***** city,
      under the same endless sky,
         beside the same aimless sea,


Into the same stifling wind,
   blinded by the same soulless sun.
      And you call it a different life.
          But there is no other.

His spirit resides in us, with us,
even when we no longer know who we are.
He carries us through the darkness,
is with us until the new morning
transforms us into who we really are.
A child of God.