ANEW

From what was a hushed night

We have now, morning

The silence remnants,

Still enveloping creek and corner


Soon it will have competition

When with sunrise, comes the bustle

And with the bustle, comes the hustle

The hustle, bringing forth a new chapter


The living are readying

To attack the day

Such zeal, such motivation

Pot scoops of such, invaluable


A brand new day

For the lonesome, the nurturers

For the caretakers, the peacemakers

Even more brilliant of a day, for a dreamer

My black sunglasses

Legon Botanical Gardens. Circa 2018

There are so many eyes on me

So many stares, so many labels

There’s something about black

Black sunglasses

Boosted confidence?

Possibly

Black to go with everything?

Definitely

Protection from harmful sun rays?

Guaranteed

But none of these is the reason

For my copping of a pair

For as timeless as they may have made me out to be

There was something that I didn’t want the world to see

Broken Wells

I know a thing or two

About broken wells

Consequence

Of a broken heart

Quenching their thirst


I know a thing or two

About the broken-hearted

Drawing and drawing,

The well, almost bare.

And when broken, none seems to care


I know a thing or two

About these two, broken well, broken heart

But I wish I had earlier known

That one would leave

Right after the mend and quench

Detour

There at the tunnel’s end

They say, there’s light

But a wall of consequence

Awaits me


You see

There’s a freeing release

About crossing the finish line

But with release, comes vulnerability


So just maybe,

Shall we prolong this race?

Seconds, minutes, hours

Before being fully consumed


Sometimes

We don’t need the end

Because we already know.

Sometimes, almost is truly enough

The End

When you know, you know

Unmistakable synergy

The senses relaying,

The tragic news


But it’s the switch

The transition, the click

The crossover

Immediate and sudden


Burden is delivered

Guilt casts over

The silent ache, reverberating

This, the soundtrack to the loss of child

The Rush

Evening rush,

Before the orange sky blackens

Bustling crowds, awaiting speedy trains

Seconds during transit,

Offer a glimpse into life

Be it, the crying toddler

Or the witty beggar

The diligent station janitors

Or a trio of giddy teens.

But someone’s felt a sudden rush

Fleeting, yet evoking appreciation

When locking eyes,

With a charismatic passerby.

Both strangers perplexed,

By the unexpected gaze

And what shouldn’t have lingered a second more

Had just birthed a “What if…?”

The answer to which,

She, passenger, would never know.

The train doors shut.

What then lies ahead,

Is another chapter of some story,

Perhaps, another mutual connection made,

Before final destination.

poetry

some fall in love

others love the idea of love


some thirst for water

others sip champagne in delight


poetry

i’ve fallen for you


you’re a scarf to smoothen out of place strands

you’re velvet to skin


cognac to the lost weeper

tea drank by the grassy bank


a sail to brave through strong winds and tides

pot of gold under the rainbow


a listener, comforter

nurse to the banes of my life

Calm

It’s as hard to explain

As it is to watch

Because today, Calm won’t even as much

Meet my eyes, or break into embrace


Two or three gather

There’s a crowd

Involuntarily losing control

I must prepare myself


A breath in, a breath out

What am I inviting in?

What am I letting out?

I’m held back suddenly


Silence, as I try to articulate

It’s like I have no voice

And something keeps pulling at my nape

Ten fingers, seemingly turned dozen


I tell you, Calm is out for me

She steals my voice

Latches onto my neck

And casts me into the springs of anxiety

Haze Art

The wretched awake

From nights of despair

The elixir bottle down to drops

There is the haze

To remind of pressing affairs

That life has seized our props

Heavy are the sighs we make

Pleading to our avengers, helpless whispers of ‘Sirs’

And by eve, the fallen tears must see the mop

Still

Be still,

But this is a different kind of stillness

I am still, but restless

At night, a laying place for my worries

A morning, just a morning

Lonesome obstacles placed in my way

I am tense and life seemingly grey

Rowing a boat in uncertain tides

Night falls, time to be still

But where is peace to be bestowed on me?

A bonfire night, an angry sea

That is how the day ends, still, but not that STILL

I(am)mposter

And what I have been dreading,

Has come to pass.

Cornered and tormented,

Today is that day.

I face the music, I am found out.

Confronted by the voices,

After a myriad of disguises.

And which of them was best?

I say to you…

Imagine trying to see colour

In a world of darkness

Today, unfortunately,

I can no longer comfort

The imposter in me