Poetry is intricately profound, it is a mastery of life where the consciousness of the mind of man through the heart felt expression exposes the intriguing intent on all aspects of life.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

I am wounded,
but no one wants to heal me.
I am wounded,
but no one seems to notice.
I am wounded,
but I still get dirt thrown on me.
I am wounded,
but the world doesn't care.

sultry summer wind,
kisses mango blooms came late;
make them regret it!

You sit
by the
seaside
waters
edge,

and the blue
sky of

London
embraces
you,

and the
afternoon
sun
light
dances
through your
tangled
angel hair,

and the
ocean tide
strains to
touch you.

and the
salt air
intoxicates
you,

and for
a moment
you are
as free as
the seagulls
that hover
like salt and
pepper
pilgrims
above you
on the
breeze.

and you
sit and
wonder in
this moment
and what
your life
has become,

and you
smile
and God
smiles
with you.

and I
smile
for you,

and reach
to catch
your eyes,

to be
intoxicated
for a while

like the
tide that
moves
inside you,

the open
heart that
beats within
you

I reach for
nothing else.

The words she spoke appeared on her skin
On her arms
and legs
and everywhere she bled.

She was no longer beautiful.