18 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I want soulful conversations filled with happiness, love and laughter.
A little bit of red wine, Sade, Jill Scott and Erykah Badu will do.
Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually.
The sincerity of my words is embedded in the movement of my verbs.
Hope you learn to love your thick thighs and those beautiful brown eyes.
I want to hold you in my arms until you forget what loneliness feels like.
I read your body like the pages and chapters of a novel that I never want to stop reading.
Reading the lines on a woman’s skin is poetry and too many men are illiterate.
So they will never truly understand the fact that liberty begins with literacy.
If you incorporate piano keys into my heartbeat, then I promise that you will fall in love with the melody.
I want soulful conversations filled with happiness, love and laughter.
A little bit of chardonnay, Maxwell, Jill Scott and Erykah Badu will do.
The world is nothing without you, the world is blurry without my muse.
Hope you learn to love your thick thighs and those beautiful brown eyes.
I don’t have much but I have you and with God on my side how can I lose?

17 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I understand the fact that I am not always easy to understand.
Loving me is complicated and maybe that’s the beauty of it all.
I never really knew how to handle this beautiful thing called love.
So I always thought that someone would be able to show me how.
“You’re not easy to love” are words I’ve heard too many times before.
My hyperhidrosis is evident but how long will you keep on looking?
I know that my smile is flawed and crooked but it’s worth the picture still.
Let me write my wrongs until I’m right within but where should I begin?
Walking through a graveyard littered with my ideas and thoughts.
Littered with my endeavours of trying to be someone worthy of your love.
You don’t believe in me so who am I to tell the world about our story?
Just another spoken-word poet from Pretoria trying to attain his glory.
These words are written with great effort but you never pay attention anyway.
You know that I’ve got hyperhidrosis but I try not to sweat the small stuff.
I never really knew how to handle this beautiful thing called love.
So I always thought that someone would be able to show me how.
“You’re not easy to love” are words I’ve heard too many times before.
My hyperhidrosis is evident but how long will people keep on looking?
I know that my smile is flawed and crooked but it’s worth the picture still.

16 | 31 Poems for August 2016

How can we proceed with ease when we can hardly trust each other?
I have scars that run deep like still waters do – only the ocean can fathom what I’m going through.
I hope the bridges we burn illuminate our paths because the darkness tends to distort our vision.
But you can hardly notice the difference because you always have your eyes closed.
If the truth hurts when I write it, imagine how you’ll feel when you hear it.
I have pain that runs deeper than still waters do – only the ocean can fathom what I’m going through.
You always remained well-composed like a Mozart classic but if the world is your canvas then who’s your muse?
I used to dream about the Grim Reaper driving a Phantom in a graveyard littered with my endeavours of trying to be someone worthy of your love.
My friend Charles once told me that things would change but not always for the better.
But as long as you’re a King then you’ll eventually find yourself someone as phenomenal as Coretta.
No amount of morphine can ease the pain; it may seem insane but I still take pride in the scars I gain.
I have pain that runs deeper than still waters do – only the ocean can fathom what I’m going through.
I hope the bridges you burn illuminate your path because the darkness will distort your vision.
But you will hardly notice the difference because you always have your eyes closed and never really pay attention.

15 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Days gradually getting longer while circles keep growing smaller.
I’m alone in this crowded city but I know that it’s only temporary.
Time is wasted, I guess the clock had too much to drink last night.
Began treating society like varsity, I started not to care if I was accepted.
Dreams I once promised myself to pursue are now forgotten and neglected.
Even if things don’t always go my way, I just hope that everything will be okay.
Sometimes I feel closer to my dreams but then I wake up and realise that it was all in my sleep.
According to my frame of reference, dreams delayed may always feel like dreams denied.
Now I have to put on hold stories about success that urgently need to be told.
Too many times the world has made me feel like an abandoned church, but in your eyes I’ll always be a cathedral.

My confidence levels are getting lower and lower; I can feel it in my sleep.
I’m slowly progressing but progressing nonetheless but I still feel like I’m disappointing myself.
I’m doing my utmost best, the worst thing you could do is compare me to someone else.
I’m still holding on no matter how bad it gets; it hurts but I try my best not to let my frustrations show.
I can’t carry on like this though, eventually I’ll have to let everything go.
Eventually I’ll have to let go and forget everything I ever wanted to be.
Days gradually getting longer while impatient frustrations get the best of me.

......
In this edge of the end
Where simplicity flows
Through the straight river
The upstream songs
As the ****** sunshine of Lost spring

There today,
Exhausted Myna drying feathers
In the wet air
Sitting on the shade of the window
Steadfast attention on the distant horizon

Slothful day in a comfort bed
With a cup of tea
A longed cigarette,
Romanticism become struck

Outside the open window
Inside out
Light clouds of August
As if the "will" cradling to and fro
Dropping the ageless poetry
Filled with the words of dance

Rain comes down on the unleash field
Essence of mystic tunes flowing
From the tearful trots of rains
Moving, Flooding
The both sides of the river
..............
@Musfiq us shaleheen

14 | 31 Poems for August 2016

In my mind, I can still hear you singing Born Sinner out loud.
I’m patiently pursuing purpose; I hope I’m making you proud.
I’m glad that I got the chance to know someone like you.
I’ve acquired the skill to transform simple words into beautiful poetry but there’s a few people that still doubt.
But those that doubt me and my words will soon believe.
Death is a bit like love, sometimes we don’t see it coming.
We never do, no matter how many melancholic memories we endure or how much pain we go through.
You never let anyone negatively alter you, you chose to stay true.
It may be too late but for that I salute you.
In my darkest days you always pulled me through.
It may be too late but for that I humbly thank you.
Now that you’re gone, my eyes have been barbed by pain and sorrow.
All the time I have is borrowed so I can’t be too worried about tomorrow.
You always danced to life’s rhythm, you were one to never press pause.
In my darkest hours I take the time to let your memory shine.
At least I got the chance to love and know someone like you.
You’ve slipped away and nothing can fill this pain.
I didn’t get the chance to say all I had to say.
I wasted too many hours and now it’s too late.
You’re gone now, living in a better place.
You’re gone now and I can no longer find you.
So in my darkest hours I’ll always take the time to let your memory shine.
I hope to feel the warmth of your presence in all the broken parts of me.
In my mind, I can still hear you singing songs by Emeli Sandé out loud.
I’m patiently pursuing purpose; I hope I’m making you proud.
The world may have taken you away but at least I had the chance to love you.

12 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I never knew that hearts could get played like grand pianos do.
The notes are exquisite but the pain and heartbreak are obviously not.
Maybe it is true; maybe my love is as bad as my handwriting is.
Maybe that explains why past lovers never had the patience to stay.
Maybe I’m slowly going a bit crazy and need you to gather some positive words to say.
Because honestly speaking, that’s something I could really use right now.
You’re a flower blooming in a world full of concrete walls; it’s wonderful watching you grow.
But somehow we still have bad blood between us like sickle-cell anaemia.
Loving you was like smoking a pack of cigarettes – you took my breath away but you were slowly killing me inside.
I never knew that hearts could get played like harps and violins do.
The symphony is exquisite but the pain and heartbreak are obviously not.
Maybe it is true; maybe my love is as bad as my handwriting is.
Maybe that explains why past lovers never had the patience to stay.
Maybe I’m slowly going a bit crazy and need you to gather some positive words to say.
Because that’s something I could really use right now instead of having you spewing words of hate.

11 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I keep hearing the echoes of piano keys and guitar strings.
I’m intrigued by the joy Luyanda brings every time she sings.
It’s amazing how every single note becomes an unforgettable poem.
Sometimes silence echoes through the urban streets of ghettos.
The world’s love and light tries to illuminate in all our broken halos.
My creativity was trapped in broken dreams until I heard her sing.
People give her their absolute attention as she strokes each string.
The sun came out just to impersonate the warmth of her aura.
Even if things don’t always go our way, I know that we will all be okay.
I hear echoes of a million heartbeats between abandoned buildings and crowded streets.
A million heartbeats keep echoing between Hammanskraal and Atteridgeville.
I hear millions of echoes within the silence of busy ghetto and urban streets.
I hear echoes of piano keys and guitar strings every time Luyanda speaks.

10 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Love me like you promised me you would.
Love me like I still know you can and I still know you can.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a whole lot of love here.
So love, please don’t walk away or decide to disappear from me.
I’m banking on you to not withdraw from the love we have both invested in.
Because the truth is my heart says that you’re the one, my heart is really growing fond of you.
Love, I used to think that I was bad at this beautiful thing people call love.
But I realised that the problem wasn’t the intensity of my affection but rather the quality of people I chose.
Like a rose, from the concrete I rose and I want you to witness my bloom.
You’ve made me question if all the women I have been with before were really worthy of my love, time and effort.
Love me unconditionally, across beautiful South African cities, over the world’s skyscrapers and beyond the depths of time.
I admire how you have loved me this intensely despite how devastating your previous heartbreak was.
Don’t walk away from me because no amount of ***** or morphine will ease the pain.
Let’s escape from reality with our lips locked to a place far away from the stares of prying strangers.
Please don’t walk away or decide to disappear from me not after you promised that you would love me.
Love me wholeheartedly, across beautiful South African cities, over the world’s skyscrapers and beyond the depths of time.
Love me like I still know you can, love me like you promised me you would.

9 | 31 Poems for August 2016

She unapologetically loves each and every crevice of her canvas.
Each part regally resonates to the woman who birthed her.
Each part elegantly exudes the exuberance of its own beauty.
The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size.
More than the heads of men which turn as she walks down the street.
Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is.
Through pain she found love and through love she found herself.
We meet in the pages of our story where the ink intimately holds us together.
These words I write become intertwined in the veins of our loving hearts.
In the rain of her presence, my words will always form a rainbow.
I can never get enough of her love; I’m always left yearning for more.
In a world ravaged by cold wars, we both know what we’re fighting for.
She has never spent a day letting the world turn her starry sky into a ceiling.
She wears her crown proudly and embraces the queen that she is.
The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size.
More than the whistles which dissipate the silence as she enters the room.
Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is.
The world is my canvas and I hope this African queen will always be my muse.

i.

light in lazy pools
patches of shadow
like closing doors.

ii.

i float
like a ghost
open the sky
like a love letter.

iii.

a bird hovers,
shudders to
a sky that
unwraps its
dreams like
inky pools.

iv.

greyer than ghosts
that kiss for my
lips,
that trembling
of my heart
just for you.