Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I wonder what secret
The trees whisper to the breeze?
Do the birds hear that secret
And announce it in their song?

Does the wind hold it
And drop it in the seas?
Does the sea speak it out
And share it with the stars?

Do the heavens then resound
With the secret of the trees?

And the clouds,
Oh yes! Those clouds
Blue, black and grey
Is that why come rushing?

Across the seas to caress
With gentle rain the trees
And whisper,
"Heaven knows your heart,
There are no secrets from God."

The trees smile and sway
Fulfilled and complete in love.
the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised


and so the job,
our work,
begins
I'm logging out
of this smouldering
relationship with
so much drama.
It deflated me
and sap my
soul of energy.
Don't ever encourage
me to wait
for a little bit
or give it time
to work out or change.
You probably won't
meet me well
and alive or maybe
meet me insane.
I don't need
a shrink to
know that I'm fully
zapped out and
need to recuperate,
or a monster
created by this
unfortunate event
will be unleashed and
probably devour me.
Right now there's
a network problem
and the number
you are calling
is no longer available
or maybe switched off.
Now there's a need
for a new SIM card,
but the memory card
is still valid.
Remember that
the number you
are dialling is
not in use and
not recognized by
the service provider.
I'm no longer
available in that network.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Next page