Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
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.
Wellington Smith Jun 2016
Darkness and light: the eternal battle,
One can not exist in the presence of the other.

The greatest contrast in the world:
Light and darkness; black and white
Always opponents to one another,
But maybe not quite.

For hundreds of years,
Men strove to the world's enlightenment,
Conquerors sailed the seas,
Armed with a sense of entitlement.

No community was spared,
Families were torn apart,
Heart from heart,
Did Her Majesty care?

Men always feared the unknown,
The things they didn't understand,
Any attempt to upset the colonial hierarchy,
Was met with swift reprimand.

Fast forward to a civilised world,
Where women are oppressed,
A man is judged on his race,
Persecuted because of the colour of his face.

No community was spared,
Families were torn apart,
Heart from heart,
Did the Afrikaners care?

Liberation before education,
The struggle was long,
Blood was shed,
Children lie on the streets of Soweto,
Fallen cold and dead.

For a while the storm was past,
The rainbow was shining in the sun,
A sign of hope for the future.
A nation was free at last.

But as power started to grow,
Men got greedy: Money ruled these men,
And the cracks began to show.

Fear controlled their lives:
They had millions at their command,
Any and all opposition were silenced,
By quick reprimand.

Our country bleeds for collaboration,
Black and white can work together,
We just need honest leadership,
We are the rainbow nation.

The cycle is starting anew,
Families are being torn apart,
Heart from heart,
What will Number One do?
A Eulogy for my country.
We are the poets.
We create poetry out of silence.
We are so incredibly good with words.
People often wonder what our hands can do.
People find these fingers incredible.
They watch as these fingers transform simple words into beautiful poetry.
They watch as static thoughts transform into kinetic conversations.

As simple as they are, these words tend to sound like proverbs.
The void that you constantly try to avoid.
We will fill that void with light.
The type of light that constellations hunger for.
These hands transform simple words into beautiful poetry.
The aim is not always to write to impress.
But rather to write to express.
We constantly find light in the darkest of places.
Even constellations envy the light found in our eyes.
With a suitable paint brush, these words can create vivid images of paradise.

Our words create worlds.
Our words create worlds within worlds.
Our words capture moments and paint pictures.
So next time you hear one of us recite, bring a friend and a frame along.

We create poetry out of silence.
We are so incredibly good with words.
People often wonder what our hands can do.
People find these fingers incredible.
They watch as these fingers transform simple words into beautiful poetry.
They watch as static thoughts transform into kinetic conversations.
We are the poets, you should ask the world about us.
rebecca hunter Apr 2015
I find it strange when I arrange
To go anywhere else but here
All over the map – how 'bout that!
Now I'm here, then I'm there, “every-wier”

Yes, strange, I say, how that on one day
You're looking at the Kommetjie sea
Then, in a few hours, you have the power
To be up the Cairngorms to ski!

I find it so foreign, like the look of a sporen
To imagine going south to north
But when I arrive – Heathrow Terminal 5
It just took a plane, of course

When west up the south coast of Africa
I look on the map back t'ward home
I think “How on earth did I get here?”
What a strange thing it is to roam!

If only I'd time, after this rhyme
To travel further more often
Perhaps I'd acclimatise - become more climate-wise
And this strange, creepy feeling would soften.
Marilyn Aug 2014
Red
The blood shed during apartheid
Voices drowned by tears
        of mothers missing sons
        daughters growing up while Dad's in prison
        and people displaced by District 6.
Museums erected in their memory
"Always Forward, Never Forget"

Blue
The open sky meets the water
As the Dutch sail into the bay
A trading-stop-turned-city
For weary travelers to call home.
The streets now bear their names
And people speak their language,
Pushing native and Western cultures together
As one.

Green
The land stretches over mountaintops
The city sparkles on the water
Narrow sidewalks and busy streets
covered with "hooting" cars on the wrong side of the road.
The market with tents and bargains
The tropical trees in the park nearby,
inviting passerbys to explore.

Black and White
For the people
Once separated, now trying to unite
        as a family.
The colors of diversity
Speaking native tongues
Cooking and serving up traditions,
But still haunted by the past.

Yellow
For the gold
That was found in Joburg, and
That thrives on the streets of Cape Town
Sculptures, statues, beat of the drum
Colorful buildings
Make this city its own.

The Y
This is the Rainbow Nation
Whites, Blacks, and everything in between
Coming together as one
Waving the South African flag
And looking towards the future.
I wrote this as part of a group project while in South Africa on a study abroad.
Sydney Victoria Apr 2014
"What is your name?"

Her Dark Eyes Reminded Me Of The Ocean At Dusk. They Were Dark, Deep, And Endless; Harboring Many Secrets.

"My name is Sydney."

My Lips Pealed Back Into A Smile Even Though Her Expression Was Quite Puzzled.

"Sydney?"

She Smiled.. The Sweetest Smile I Have Ever Seen. She Turned To Her Friend Who Had The Same Dark Eyes. He Smiled Too. The Corners Of His Eyes Morphed Into Sharp Points As His Plumb Cheeks Stretched Upwards.

"We shall give you a new name."

She Turned To Him.

"What shall we name her?"

More Of Their Friends Gathered Around Them.

One Boy Approached The Group Which Had Congregated Around Me.

"Let's name her Maudie."

"Yes! That is perfect. Do you know what that means?"

She Softly Stroked My Hair As Her Dark Eyes Locked Onto Mine.

"It means Rose. Beautiful Rose."

I Smiled, My New Friends Watched As She Took My Hands.

"Maudie... Don't Ever Forget That This Is Your Name. Never Forget Who You Are."
I Do Not Know How, But She Pealed Back Every Layer Inside Of Sydney, And Managed To Find.. Me, Now, I Do Not Know The Spelling Of My Name. I Wrote It How It Was Pronounced.. I Will Never Forget..

— The End —