"storeroom" poems
Wishes and false promises
On moonbeams and on stars
A year of dreams and nightmares
Of newly healing scars
Dreams are a seduction
An illusion of the mind
Dreams are for the children
They are movies in your mind
Age tones down those images
Dreams forgotten in the wake
Dreams vanish in reality
And that's the form they take
A dream left in the storeroom
Of a mind, with room to grow
Will flourish and grow steadily
And be shared for all to know
Dreams, are our existence
In the real world and the night
Dreams are full fledged wishes
That will die if not made right
Never lose the child
Keep dreams and wishes near
Keep fairy dust in packets
Of the darkness have no fear
Dreams are just illusion
but illusion isn't real
a heart can be un-broken
if you dream that love is real
share your dreams and feelings
write them out and read them too
never lose the dreams or wishes
they keep the child light in you.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
My Mind
An inner sanctum of peace
Where the calmest whisper can be heard over a thousand miles of tranquility
My Mind
A battleground
Where a thousand thoughts clash
Each seeking to find the truth
My mind
A storeroom
Filled with a lifetime of memories
From infancy to manhood
Each shaping my views and perceptions molding me into the man I am
My Mind
A green field of grass
Where dreams come out to play
Where imagination makes out with reality on a stack of hay
My mind
A growing tree
who's branches seek to absorb rays of knowledge passed down from above
My mind
A caricature of a person born a little over 22 years ago
My Mind
A lone bird soaring through a tumultuous sky, unfazed by its surroundings steady on its path
My mind
A dessert Island
A place of beauty un-compared where mathematical equations are laid to rest effortlessly
My Mind
Um....:) sometimes goes blank in the face of beauty
My Mind
A jungle
If I let you explore do you promise to keep its treasures close to heart
My mind
A fine African automobile
On a slow Sunday afternoon drive, appreciating the scenery we call life
My mind
A classic beat
Who's calm melody is ripped apart by compound metaphors and violent punch lines
My mind
.....doesn’t always agree with my Soul
My mind
A train laden with thought north bound
Stopping off at reflection eternal
Hoping to reach Zion’s Holy ground
My mind
Two things all at once
Light and dark
Right and wrong
The past and future
Its here right now while its away
My mind
Made up its own mind
To define my destiny
My mind
Untamed
A beast born off black and white
My mind
A speaker
In this box called my body
My mind
Open
Independant a Government in its own
My mind
New
like shool, a resident of the condition
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 8:35 AM UTC
Yesterday I wrote a poem about Ike
You see; Ike made me go
Weak in the knees
Even though
His scent made me sneeze
But that's just minor things
Coz you see
His heart was hotter than warm
He had a sense of humour
Greater than Trevor Noah's
Ha ha
He had a fetish for feet
He said he'll buy me a ring
For my toe
Its a pity though
That me & Ike were a fling
That only lasted something like 10 minutes
Coz he was waiting for his order
At a Mike's kitchen counter
As his wife took a departure
To the rest room near the storeroom
To freshen up n put some powder
And returned to find me laughing my lungs out
As Ike changed his posture
And acted like he was the most innocent man on earth
S.P Radebe
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
I could feel his breath on me
Filled with heated lust
Triggering my visible spine
Any moment, the fangs could ******
He counted my heartbeats
Slowly nearing my ear
Whispered, delicious blood
And that ignited my fear
Holding me tight, yet being gentle
He had on a mesmerising scent
Looking deep into his eyes
Felt like my veins have burnt
A starry full moon night
And being caught up as a prey
It almost seemed liked midnight
Yet, in his strong arms, I lay
Pink blossoms, showered like rain
As the winds increased its pace
His warm lips gently touched mine
And, I was taken into galactic space
He embraced me like a flower
And continued to kiss me
Like there won't be a tomorrow
For me to ever see
I didn't fight back or resist
Perhaps I was hypnotized by him
But a night, I will never forget
When all lights slowly go dim
A life spared but repaid with lust
To the dangerous, night walker
An everyday trend
Meeting up, by the storeroom locker!
©sim
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
Sometimes I cry for you
And sometimes I cry for me
But my eyes leak for us.
Fish cannot fathom the rivers I have created for Us.
The Us that runs to me like a child with open arms
but I am tired
too tired to pick Us up
spin Us in the air
make Us a laugh..
It needs water
but my spirit is parched.
It needs food
but my storeroom -heart is empty.
I want You
to meet Us
I want Us
to spend time with You and I.
I fathom fantasies that can turn
a U into a W
and a S into an E…
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
Bouncing back
From cold shoulders
And many a rejection,
Resilient,I throw
My full weight
To get
What me await
In the storeroom
Of fate!
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
What is a thought,but words left unsaid
Confused little letters locked deep in my head
Why do I hide them, what do I fear?
They want to get out for someone to hear
The brain is a storeroom , but where is the key?
I've got to unlock it so I can find me
The past and the future will live with my soul, but without expression one cannot grow old
With this silent pencil, I'll let out the words, and in peaceful contentment
I will be heard!
Dec 25, 2009
Dec 25, 2009 at 7:41 AM UTC
Reach to the back of the old,
Reach behind the boxes entrenched with dust,
Reach beyond the shelves of tarnished trophies,
Reach beneath the tarpaulin brittle with age.
Reach and ignore the stains of the years
Stretch, ***** seek
And your fingers will brush
Against unfamiliar, new-to-you gems.
Reach and from unexplored corners
Reveal new treasures from the storeroom;
Treasures to enlighten
Treasures to surprise
Treasures to delight
The disciples of the kingdom.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
The Mason and His Statue
at first, I am a block of stone
and you are a chisel
carving pieces of me away
and then you are a diamond drill
and then I am polished
mounted
wheeled out of the room covered in stone dust and into the liquid darkness of a hallway
and ten arched windows pass me by
for the very first time I can see the sky
I’m in the middle of the room
with a nameplate on a stand beside me - did I have a name before?
I’m just me
and there’s more of me all around me
standing
sitting
eyes reaching… quiet.
The doors open and the footsteps arrive
I hear water outside and see out the windows at the end of the hall and sometimes if I’m lucky they open them and I feel a breeze on the side of my face
but the funny part is -
the best time of day is when they close all the doors
and it’s just me and the janitor who’s mopping the floors
in case you were wondering
why I’m not there anymore
in the middle of the room in plain view on my pedestal
they took me down
too dated or too worn or just not new
wrapped me in canvas and put me in the back of a storeroom
where for the first time I experienced damp, and cold
and I learned that it was a bad thing to be old
but
then I was worn enough to be disposable
and they put me in the park
I’m by the fountain - come and find me
there’s no barriers and no nameplate telling you what to see
and yes, the wind blows and I’m a little more exposed
but I’m free
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
the words slide off of my tongue and I think I am going to be sick
how could it happen like this?
in the back of a storeroom covered by nightfall
I spill all of my secrets
about how I am barely sewn together
and I'm holding on to nothing
and I cry
and you care
you give me advice about being myself and how everyone will love me
and even though it has nothing to do with the situation
it helps
to know
you tried
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
There’s not much of anything I can recall
From the time that we lived in the lane,
Only the puddles of rainwater eddying
With the wind’s gusting refrain.
Pamela knew, she was older than me
So absorbed all the essence of fear,
And many a time when she’d panic and whine
I would cry out ‘There’s nobody here!’
The trees were too tall and they ruled overall
By keeping the house in their shade,
The garden was cold and the rocks would grow mould
From the damp, in the part that I played.
The wind would come sniffing around from the trees
And shiver the hairs on my spine,
And then in a wheeze like a voice in the breeze,
‘You shouldn’t be here, this is mine!’
Our parents were never around it would seem,
Our time was spent mostly alone,
It’s true that I grew to be sensitive, too,
To the visions and sounds of my own.
But Pamela, she became crazy with fear
At every strange creak in that house,
So then when she’d scream, I’d say, ‘It’s a dream,’
And place a cloth over her mouth.
The house was three storeys, we never went up
To check out the topmost floor,
They said it was storage, and not ours to forage
So kept a stout lock on the door,
But Pamela said she heard noises above,
Like somebody padding around,
It couldn’t have been, or they would have been seen
Between the third floor and the ground.
But out from the garden I’d often look up
To stare at the sole window pane,
The one that was muddy, or could it be ******
The colour was almost the same.
It was strange they insisted the stairway was locked
Could there be a grim secret to hide,
The darkest of murders, hidden away
And the storeroom above? Well, they lied!
Then Pamela said that she saw someone,
A shadow that fell on the pane,
Strange that the mud had continued in place
In spite of the seasonal rain.
Muddy or ****** it wouldn’t wash off
Though I stared and I stared, and I smiled,
The indistinct face that I saw staring back
Was the face of an evil child.
They say that the rest was over to me
Though I’ll never recall if it’s true,
It’s funny the things that you do in life
That you never thought you could do.
Pamela said I was quite the brat
But then Pamela’s such a liar,
All I recall is the face of a child
As the flames in the window grew higher.
David Lewis Paget
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
When black lips
Are out of fashion
Can you imagine
The corrective action
White women take
To get it cracking
And how much they’ll have to take away
When big ***** become passé
When black women
Start to respect themselves
And leave wigs and extensions
On storeroom shelves
You’ll see their true beauty
If nothing else
And their false ideas of what it is
Begins to melt
When beauty standards
Begin to change
And they
starts to have
A wider range
The metamorphous
May at first seem strange
But nobody should feel
Short changed
When we realize
The human race
Isn’t measured by
Just one face
And that everyone
Has their place
The inner self
Will start to be embraced
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
Bellhaven a town of five
Grew in his love and potent flares
She shivered as she dove
Deep beneath his cumbersome faults
To the misty beaches in his eyes
They ran the grocers
Her love of loves
Carrying the parcels to waiting cars
Making bank trips on bicycle seats
******* all night under uncovered bulbs
Market lights on strings of electric
Pattern up the ceiling joists
She travels her journey
In whims of ecstasy
And sweeps the storeroom of tattered webs
Children join the dusty mop head
Ringing the sound of miniature him's
She and he's of minute proportions
Occupy the grocery carts, the
Two wheeled seats of financial ruin.
The market lights on strings of wire
Sputter with the fading current
He ***** the lips of his love of loves
And squirrels his toes behind her ankles
******* the night under unsheltered bulbs
They all are gone now in Bellhaven
The town of five is now beyond the five.
They all run around on seats of bicycles
Bank drafts and grocery carts
All gone to litter.
Her love of love gone down in a blizzard
Her children amassing out there by the highway
Her market light patterning the joists
As she dives deep beneath
The cumbersome faults.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
I had no idea of who she was,
But knew she appealed to me,
All that I knew, her name was Roz,
So I wove her history.
Imagination’s a marvellous thing
But that doesn’t make it real,
I thought I could make the whole thing up
But I only judge by feel.
I had her grow in a miserable home
Where no-one could understand,
A feckless mother and drunken Dad
With no-one to hold her hand.
She’d come to life when she left that home,
Left everything else behind,
And if she wasn’t together yet,
Then everyone else was blind.
I loved the way that her hair curled down
To sit at the nape of her neck,
I loved that serious air she had
To hold everyone in check.
I didn’t know if she noticed me
She never gave me a look,
Whenever she passed my desk, I sat
And buried my head in a book.
We used the stationery storeroom there,
It was big enough for two,
I walked on in and I locked the door,
Said, ‘I’ve been looking at you.’
She seemed surprised and had startled eyes
When I drew her close for a kiss,
But she raised her lips and she moved her hips,
So it didn’t seem too remiss.
She met me down at the local pub
To discuss the feelings she had,
‘It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the kiss,
I don’t want you feeling bad.
But I have a guy and he’s awful shy,
So don’t tell what happened today,
Some things are sacred, stored in the heart,’
And then she had walked away.
David Lewis Paget
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
I'd die in my sleep just to dream again, breath again
I would lie to myself just to pretend that I could move on
Its only as hard as you think it is
The Sentiment's
Only around till the season ends, and I know
I wish I understood where I go
In the moments between, when I'm defined
A map of me, written down on a stereo
I've only got enough change, to make it somewhere close
Where do you want to go?
Days that bleed together come up so unclaimed
Rising out of nowhere
And falling just the same
Stretching out before me, I see sleepless nights
And a lifetime filled with pain
The storeroom full of daydreams is looking rather forced
I've used up every fantasy, and still I'm still staying the same course
But here comes the refrain
The mantra I try to entertain
Famine is a constant flame
That burns down to the core of man
And lets you understand
Just how this life will end
And there's no real way to win this game
I think i understand when people talk
Even when there's nothing good enough to say
Everybody's lonely on this road, and as we walk
They just want to stave off the silence
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 1:04 AM UTC