Like grains of sand, that slip through the hand:
     Where’s the sense in counting?
Years pass quickly by, so soon we die,
     for sins we’ll be accounting!
Some meek - some bold, times hot - times cold,
     the life that’s ours, too fleeting.
To where winds blow?  No one will know:
     naught but momentary meeting.
We plan - we scheme, we act - we dream,
     all comes to end at death.
Friends met - then lost: we count the cost,
     they’ve drawn their final breath.
We live each day; our chosen way;
     count not the hours we’ve spent.
As some will say, to live each day,
     must be our sole intent.
From Nature’s earth, at dawn of birth,
     ours, but a passing presence.
So count not grains, for Life soon wanes:
     time always of the essence.

Rhymer June 15th, 2018

Thank you,
For all that you’ve done,

You don’t know my mind,
My thoughts, my reasoning
Behind my actions.
What to you may seem selfish
Or simply eccentric,
Is what I need to do
To function, to continue
Breathing without hyperventilating,
Completely breaking down.
So please be patient.
You don’t know what I’m going through.

I feel like when you write a love poem
it's expected that you're to try and find
some kind of intricate and elaborate way
to say I love you
without really saying it

But before I do that
I think I need to just say it
so that no matter how you interpret my words
and no matter what you're worrying about
you know that
in plain words
I told you

I love you.

Those silly songs;
so sad but true
With lost feelings
of me and you

I played it on
with the tape's side A
Felt like blossoms of dawn
and flowers of May

I flipped the tape
Found side B's empty
The same thing I get
Every time you look at me

"You'll get over this."
You once confided
That's what our love is;
Too one-sided

wishes made
candles blew
now waiting
for it to come true
waiting for so long
but nothing seems to come
wishes were made
but i don’t see them coming true

Set the alarm
Lock the doors
Lock the windows
Lock the shutters
Find the cricket bat – “put it by your bed”
Say goodnight to mom and dad

Although young, not naïve
I knew every night had the possibility of being my last

A routine that is now muscle memory.

Fear –
You may think
But life –
Normal for me.

Wake up
Turn off the alarm
Unlock the doors
Open the windows
Open the shutters
Put the cricket bat in the cupboard

Never being able to be left alone at home. Unwillingly dragged from store to store.

But – that’s the thing –
People don’t know the real Her,
They know the exquisite scenery, the unforgettable wildlife
They don’t know… But I do.
Because She is my home
Because being in constant fear for my life –
is normal.

Confused –
What do I tell people about Mother when they ask?
The person who raised me, taught me how to be grateful, how to ride a bike,         how to love.
Do I tell them? Will I scare them?

Although hidden beneath the tyranny – I would say –
the bloodshed
the faces of malnourished children left for dead on the side of the road the poverty struck soil the corruption      the greed the hunger the death the separation of class and race

Although a place feared –
Africa.

My Africa –
Whose sunshine you feel ignited in your soul
My Africa –
Whose smile is irresistibly contagious
My Africa –
Whose heart lies in the grassy terrain
The golden dunes of sand
The never-ending mountain tops
My Africa –
Who is the heart of various people
           cultures
   languages
          All who call Her home.
She is –
Where my heart lies even if I am thousands of miles away
Where my mind wanders from day to day.

Her air, instantly calls you
Her smell, instantly smelt
Welcoming you ever so dearly –
      Home.

Like all good mothers,
She is the one who can handle both the tranquil and turmoil,
the love and war.

She is my home. She is who I fear of disappointing.

My Africa –
is beautiful.