#savannah
In my dreams, you alway write in purple
As you scribble my name and
As you scribble yours
It’s a color that suits you well, I think
And you wear it gracefully
It is not typical like blue or black
It is not flamboyant like pink or orange
It is not harsh to read like yellow or red
It is dimmer than brown and lighter than green
It is purple, like the deep night before the stars arrive
It is purple, like a streak of light in the dark
I will never forget you, you know
I just hope you will always remember
How special purple is
And how special you are
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 1:55 AM UTC
Slowly he walks down the crowded hall
Anxious to not stumble or to fall
Vexed by the swirls of her eyes
Another chance to say “hi”
Nothing but drums in the deep
Nothing more thrilling from head to feet
Against the second when he finds
Her smile again in his mind
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 11:40 PM UTC
It’s that time of year
when the air is unseasonably warm,
summer’s last push,
last bounce
on the trampoline,
before the street lights
come on
and her mother
tells her it’s time
to come inside.
I tilt my head
and lean it back,
closing my eyes,
allowing the mixed smell
of tide water
and seat leather
to drive me elsewhere,
back to the river streets
and cobblestone houses
of South Georgia
where my journey began.
The warm night air
fills my lungs
with longing
and nostalgia
more than smoke,
and for a split second,
I’m there:
With the crickets singing,
and the salty spray of the ocean
from the thunderbolt islands
filling my empty places,
in ways
that no other person
ever could.
And I don’t feel
brave
or powerful,
or even beautiful,
I just feel
in control,
and that’s
enough for
me.
There is no wishing,
no hoping,
no dreaming
for a better tomorrow.
Just the contentment
of not knowing
which direction I face,
but the
understanding
that I am going
somewhere.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
Salty water burns my eyes
The seagulls caw their greetings
I will lay down on this soft sand
And sleep to the sound of the waves
As the sea crashes against the shore
The sweet breeze caressing my sun-kissed skin
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
The sun is risen above the summit of a mountain- a Dwala-
Beaming, chasing darkness away;
Rejuvenating the veld as the dew shimmers,
Pasture assumes its deep brown lustre
As if trying to blend with the golden sun’s rays;
The Dwala – where it had momentarily perched-
Has slowly set it free for its westerly journey
My Tropical Savannah is a beauty:
Deep brown pasture in summer, clustered bushes, umbrella trees
Irregular footpaths run across its plains,
I assume one of them leads to you,
But as I trace them, they shy away at a distant horizon,
As if the sky is eating them up
***
The sun brings a light breeze mid-flight,
It blows softly on my quill,
Making a melody with the fur;
Whistling a song on the brim of my inkwell
On one footpath, I spot two love birds coming from the well,
The damsel is balancing an earthen calabash on her head;
My lips crease into a marvel-smile at their chatter and carefree laughter
I am surprised at myself for sharing their moment of bliss,
But then, it is always easy to share happiness.
Bliss is…abstract,
*As the beauty and radiance of our sun
But the burden of sadness is…concrete,
*Something I can share with you,
Only after I trace these footpaths beyond the horizon
***
The dying sun perches on a faraway ridge like an alter offering
Its deep brown rays permeate the foliage.
By and by, colours fade away with darkness.
The veld now looks old and beaten, almost gothic,
The sun is gone, leaving a trace of a blue-brown spectrum;
I hope it has come to you my dear,
With the same happiness it brings me
***
Darkness sets in.
Though my sentiments are hurt at the thought of having to close my inkwell,
I love the sweet calmness reigning in harmony with the sound of nocturnals,
Besides, seeing another beautiful sunrise is enough consolation.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 2:49 AM UTC
There is a place beyond the tawny grass and the scattered trees
It is a place void of flowers and of bees
A place where the lion and cheetah do not reside
It is a place where those unfit won't survive
The sun won't pierce it
and the waters only collide
the brush is too thick
even the trees don't coincide
Dare to explore this place
you will see
in the heart of darkness
no man can be free
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC