Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ma tu continua e perditi, mia vita,
per le rosse città dei cani afosi
convessi sopra i fiumi arsi dal vento.
Le danzatrici scuotono l'oriente
appassionato, effondono i metalli
del sole le veementi baiadere.
Un passero profondo si dispiuma
sul golfo ov'io sognai la Georgia:
dal mare (una viola trafelata
nella memoria bianca di vestigia)
un vento desolato s'appoggiava
ai tuoi vetri con una piuma grigia
e se volevi accoglierlo una bruna
solitudine offesa la tua mano
premeva nei suoi limbi odorosi
d'inattuate rose di lontano.
Afieya Kipp Oct 2017
You are brown and eating frozen grapes in the grass: petting the hair of some tattered doll, singing a song I taught you. I try to conjure a face, but all I know is the back of your small head—an afro littered with dandelion residue. You are lucky to be nothing more than a thought...because I don’t know if I could have ever been as good to you as you will never be to me. The exchange between parents and children seems to go this way: you - a wonder; I - everything I hope you never become. A spongy piece of angel food cake, as elusive as love, I would wish you didn’t put your tiny pink tongue, lapping, at our French doors—the dry swipe of play goop on our marble countertops. Maybe we ate avocados and blood oranges together, drank rice milk together; maybe I told you all about your star sign, gave you a nickname like: Mia Amata.
Our talks are never without melody—a miracle, like a thick, forbidden plum in a desolate dream forest; silk in the hallow of a black tree.

I shouldn’t be so sad.
All of the money I’ve earned so far has been my own...
All that is mine remains just, so—every decision made out of lust, habit, or both.
Ma tu continua e perditi, mia vita,
per le rosse città dei cani afosi
convessi sopra i fiumi arsi dal vento.
Le danzatrici scuotono l'oriente
appassionato, effondono i metalli
del sole le veementi baiadere.
Un passero profondo si dispiuma
sul golfo ov'io sognai la Georgia:
dal mare (una viola trafelata
nella memoria bianca di vestigia)
un vento desolato s'appoggiava
ai tuoi vetri con una piuma grigia
e se volevi accoglierlo una bruna
solitudine offesa la tua mano
premeva nei suoi limbi odorosi
d'inattuate rose di lontano.
Havran Jun 2015
I don't miss You
as much as I did a week ago;
I miss You more,
but not in the same way as love birds do
when la mia amata
just  
wasn't
the same anymore.
Do You know how love birds love?  
The pain of losing their loved one is so intense
that they cope with the loss
in self-destruction.
Do You know how love birds love?
They Love fully,

*even after Death
Ma tu continua e perditi, mia vita,
per le rosse città dei cani afosi
convessi sopra i fiumi arsi dal vento.
Le danzatrici scuotono l'oriente
appassionato, effondono i metalli
del sole le veementi baiadere.
Un passero profondo si dispiuma
sul golfo ov'io sognai la Georgia:
dal mare (una viola trafelata
nella memoria bianca di vestigia)
un vento desolato s'appoggiava
ai tuoi vetri con una piuma grigia
e se volevi accoglierlo una bruna
solitudine offesa la tua mano
premeva nei suoi limbi odorosi
d'inattuate rose di lontano.
Jay Luistro Nov 2018
Tu che dall’ombra compari,
E docile e dolce tu pari,
Nel sole cocente la tua pelle schiarisce
E dalla tua faccia la tristezza svanisce.

Ti ** guardata dritta negli occhi,
E tu la mia pelle mi tocchi.
Ti ** guardata nel viso un sorriso
Che la dolce faccia tua ha riso.

Mi ricordo di averti amata subito
E che allorché scelta non dubito,
E di fatto mi hai regalato la felicità
E al cuore mio la verità.

Adesso ti dirò che sei speciale,
Speciale ma non tanto quanto il reale.
Perché più di questo tu sei e sarai
E per sempre il mio cuore battere farai.
You that you appear in the shadow,/
Docile and sweet you seem,
Under the hot sun your skin lightens,/
And from your face the sadness vanishes./

I looked through your eyes,
And my skin you touch.
I saw in your face a smile,
That your sweet face has laughed.

I remember to have loved ya immediately,
And my choice when I decided I don’t doubt,/
And in fact you gave me the happiness,/
And to my heart the truth.

Now I tell you, you are special,/
But Special not as likely the reality,/
Because you are and will be more than it(special),/
And my heart you will always make it beat./

Dedicated to my Girlfriend.
In the dark we groove for light
Awaiting again the lion's roar
To awaken us from a stupor
A Maniac infuse to our culture
Mislearnig adventures incured by our search
Searching for light with the touch in hand
Searching within the endless tunnels of knowledge
Bellowing our rich forest and mangroves
Bastadizing the deep sea of life bestowment.
True and of a truth...!
Silence is a guide but we lost touch of the hunters skills
Skills that unwind the pantheon, crossed the hyaenea
And put paid to the antics of the Foxes
Our quest is  now an inquests
Following the foxes of  this sphere in a hide and seek dance
A salient dance of alienation between the Hunter and the antelope.
Will the lion ever roar again..?
Chinua Achebe, Kofi Awenora,Senghor, Bongo Mbeti,
Dennis Brutus, Alex La Guma, Anthol Fugar
Nelson Mandela, Cyprain Ekwensi,
Christopher Okigbo and now Gabriel Okara
....And other great lions
Living and dead whose roaring sounds
Cascades our spheres and beyond.
The great lioness;
Bessie Head,  Nardi Gordimar,Mariana Ba,
Mabel Segun, Amata Aido,, Doris Lessing
Helen Oviagere, Buchi Emecheta.....!
Your breast has not dried up yet
And your ******* still drips with milk of knowledge
Only we lack sulking skills to quesh the hunger and thirst
We cry for trivialities searching for food outside our barns and homesteads
We long and thirst for great sayings with Witt
Idioms with Music accomplishments to rummage deep into our marrow
Pickerng into our very being .....Healing!
We long for the roaring Lions
Seeking sounds to penetrate deep into our  persons
We long for true words and essences
Piercing through  the very depths of our soul

Written by
Otuogbodor Okeibunor  Abuja, Nigeria
— The End —

— The End —