Poem: This Ring…
Let precious metal and precious stone
Make what we’ve whispered known;
Lustrous work of gleaming gold
Our shy feelings to make bold.
Let precious metal and precious stone
Make what we’ve whispered known;
Lustrous work of gleaming gold
Our shy feelings to make bold.
Did I once say that love was a frivolous thing;
An opium for the weak – their haven, an unreasonable ideal?
Yet now I want to eat, plant and grow fruit in it’s garden
- Than everything else, to niche myself in this fantastical idyll.
Indeed it’s great that we are best of friends
And are usually there for each other;
It’s true that what I like best to do at anytime
Is listening to you talk – even about nothing in particular;
It’s funny how I like to stay on the phone
Till late at night after you’ve fallen asleep -
When I can hear your whistling breath and imagine it
Coming through that pretty gap between your front teeth…
But as much as I cherish things as they are,
I can’t settle for it; I must have more!
You made him the center of your world
But he determined to loose himself and be lost anyway;
The one you called your baby,
Who fed from the bosom of your love,
Has strayed, following his wild appetite elsewhere,
Leaving you tearing at your hair like a miserable hag.
You may cry yourself a flood, my lady,
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If it is like my familiar image in the mirror
- seemingly ordinary; undramatic;
a part of me I’m so used to, that I think I barely notice,
yet remaining with me no matter where I go…
could it be love?
Then,
It was a little toy robot,
As a boy, I coveted so much,
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I remember that night
We took a leisurely walk around the estate,
The dim street lights and soft shadows
Crafted by effect, a flirty twilight.
Occasionally, I took your hand,
Swinging to the gentle harmony of our mood…
In the park, while we rested on a concrete slab
Close by a fruit tree
Surrounded by stout flowery shrubs,
Do you remember the bliss of that night?
Beautiful, enchanted by the mild harmattan breeze
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Your face so lovely…
looms like the moon in my hope’s night
Where the sun of romance has long set
And the vermin of doubt an ugly shadow casts.
Your love was the milk of my life
Nourishment for my happiness
Like cheese – sweetened, pure and tender
Honey to my tongue.
But all I drink now are stale memories
That sets my teeth on edge
Bleeding from biting into life’s hard vanity.
© 2010, poem by Tee Akindele
The other day, you knew just what I was thinking
As I mused over my visage in front of the mirror
You embraced me from behind
And pressed ageless kisses to my head
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