"vandross" poems
You said the sweetest words to me…
And I was speechless
(imagine that, a poet lost for words to an artist)
It’s a good thing you weren’t there to see my blush and
Schoolgirl grin painted across my face –
Or maybe you should have been…
Perhaps that was the best response that I could come up with.
Perhaps my Luther Vandross reply to your
Louise Scrymgeour was inadequate
Only because I was not prepared.
That’s it!
I was not prepared…
Not prepared for the unending, uninterrupted,
And unprecedented love you show to me every day
I was not prepared to fall so deeply,
So passionately and irreversibly in love with you…
To crave nothing more than the scent of your skin,
Those breathless, unconscious kisses on my neck in the depths of
The night when we shift our bodies in our sleep-
The sleep that we succumbed to long after we’ve exhausted the stores of
Physical love and desire
For hours on end…
The soft yet muscular feel of your skin
As I run y fingers lightly over your chest,
My head on your shoulder,
Eyes absorbing your beauty,
Gazing off into warm space
Fantasizing about the future –
Our future
And the happiness that you tirelessly provide.
I was not prepared
To feel my heart ache
When you sobbed in my arms,
My tears mixed with yours,
Fusing our pain, struggle,
But also our understanding of one another.
I wept for you,
For me,
But all the while knowing better days would come
I was not prepared
To feel so lonely after being separated only 7 days…
The phone and computer only allows me to see…
Your face…your words…
I was not prepared to crave your smile,
Your laughter and ability to inspire such humour in me
Your touch
Your feel,
Your taste…
Oh how I yearn to be surrounded by your warmth once again…
And still…
It has only been 10 days…
I was not prepared
To find myself so vulnerable
And yet so incredibly safe at the same time.
You encompass me,
Surround me,
Complete my fantasies of Prince Charming,
My knight,
My lover,
My best friend,
My meant-to-be.
I have found my words,
But cannot wait to lose them again.
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 9:43 AM UTC
The flowers: Where have they been?
I've excluded them. The rose is falling,
sogged with too much rain.
You did not need to cry that much.
I'm hiking up the ridge again
this time with a new flame,
a recovering alcoholic who sends me
an unusual amount of text messages.
When she talks she sounds like me.
Her eyes are owls.
They have wide, hooting pupils
constantly asking "Who?"
When I first saw her she was hidden
in her own arms and a rambling purple scarf.
I did love her then.
I don't love her now.
It's a peculiar feeling
not being a fool for a beautiful girl
who's agreed to go on a date with me.
It's not a feeling at all.
The old feelings were rotten.
Was love one of them?
Love was all of them.
Rotten, possessed love.
Downtrodden, obsessed love.
Forgotten, confessed love.
Love song love.
Luther Vandross love.
Bing Crosby love.
The real stuff. The stuff that turns
you into a desperate, hurtin' man.
I try not to feel it anymore.
I am successful and
better off because of it.
The bud spills from the stalk
as blood tumbles from a bullethole.
The sun is high and it is breaking
the wild cucullia into crisp, dry weeds.
The sun is killing the grass.
It does not mean to.
It only wants to watch.
It watches too closely.
The grass dies.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
You were the personification of everything
that I held inside my heart, the constellation
of trees standing gloriously in the horizon,
the late-night stars shining upon my heart,
pulling me away into your world of timeless
moments and sunny afternoons eating lunch
at a picnic, our mouths full of delicious seafood
and ice-cold tea. I remember the days when
we used to slow dance around the fireplace
to Luther Vandross’s song, Here and Now,
sweet dynasty sounds shimmering in the
air, living our best lives and the years ahead
of us. We were in love and nothing could
stand in the way of our sparkling passion.
Harmonies soared all around us and painted
the brilliant scenery a dazzling rainbow of
bright hues, a series of trumpets sounding
off in the supreme space, glitzy notes of
autumn attraction amplifying across the
town. We were two love birds whistling
to each other in the skyline, bursting ballads
breezing in our path, mountain blue eyes
glowing like glaciers over meshed flesh.
We knew we’d always be and rise above
the oceans and clouds, inhaling it all,
from the very beginning when we knew
nothing about love, but could feel the
magical melodies surfacing between us,
to the present where we stand united
in a dimension of greatness, our bodies
an eternity of love rising beyond the
heavens.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
Broken Sentiments
Returning from work last night, like all days
To learn that I’m just a piece of work, unlike all days
Brushed me off as I tried working things out
Tried to fill you up with my day and its happenings
Told me your day was just beginning, and mine over
Should’ve known you meant you and I were over
All through our time, didn’t you enjoy listening to my days’ stories?
Arrogantly brushed my shoulder away as I tried to hug
Told me to wrap away, you were going out tonight
Happy I was going to have a good time out, with you
Told me you were leaving me behind, I wasn’t worth you
All through our time, didn’t you take pride in holding my hand into the club?
Couldn’t understand any of it
All I was made to understand was the long easy red dress you were in
The red lipstick that added the flavor, the golden necklace too
The Dunhill Red cologne you had washed and swam in
With certainty, you and I both know that’s no fools’ gear
These were your all time favourites all times when you felt like it
With certainty, we both know you’re not gonna be dancing to no fools’ lullaby
Only difference now, I won’t be there to hold your hand and ask to dance
And oh I envy the one who’ll wrap your bee’s waist with his arms as you dance
For your game tonight is the bee’s knees
All through our time, didn’t you make me a proud man dancing with me?
O, so I stay behind, in the company of my teary wall clock
While my body in solitude, my soul in the company of giants
Kenny G’s all time great jazz, Lionel Richie’s soulful classics in the CD player
Although perfect, they could never leave Luther Vandross’ slows out of the party
They all play my heart, in turns, on repeat, repeatedly
Repeatedly, I keep casting my teary eye over the wall clock
Time, for a perishing heart seems to move very slowly
Although quickly, I realize it’s now time for the slow jams wherever you are
A thought I can’t ****** but that keeps murdering me
Is the storm you’re dancing right now, that used to ****** me
All through our time, didn’t this dance always belong to me?
Time stands still, in the still of the night
I look at the pieces of all the things you’ve broken in me and around
These pieces are so out of shape
I can’t piece them together to solve even one of our puzzles
I realize some we’ve even filed away their natural rugged edges to smooth surfaces
All we thought we were trying to do is run a smooth life
But these smooth edges glide over each other as I try to piece them together
We no longer have a perfect picture together
What breaks the soul of a man in solitude is that you aren’t even here
To work this puzzle together, paint a new piece together
Just you and I
You’re dancing a storm, away from home
And I’m here, home, crying a storm
You and I apart
We always have been
You and I
Now no more
Only with broken sentiments
Mongi C. Nkabindze
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 5:29 AM UTC
Approaching from the rear
after watching her for what
appeared to be hours
I gather my nerves to
request a slow dance as
Luther Vandross plays
softly in the background
To my surprise I head "sure"
as I take her supple hand
leading her to the dance floor
with a straight spine and
chest fully out for once
I gently press my hips softly
against hers, not to cause
panic or ********** and
she indulges to my relief
No turning in slow circles
we sit in the pocket of a
slow groove trying not to
look into one another's eyes
commence the SLOW GRIND
of heat and well placed passion
designed to effect and affect
Caught in a smooth flow
of timed precision and ******
movement, a connection is
made to kindle a probable
spark to be explored.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
As I was listening to the song I'd rather by Luther Vandross, I pressed stop before it ends.
Because I find myself staring at a blank space thinking of you
And my mind suddenly thought of the things I would like to say to you but I can't
I wish I could say,
"I'd rather be blind than to never to see you again"
"I'd rather be deaf than to never hear you laugh"
"I'd rather have no hands if I can no longer have the chance to hold yours"
"I'd rather have no heart if you won't let me love you"
But again, I can't.
I want to say "I miss you"
But I can't.
I want to say "Please love me too"
But I can't
I cannot because I'm afraid
Not afraid of the answer
But to myself that I may not be able to let go all my feelings for you
Sorry, but I can't.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC