Thursday, March 28, 2024

Bittersweet Poetry : Poems of the week by Mete Banda ,Nambisa Chibuye and Alexander PrinceCharmer Brown

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Enjoy this weeks poems!!

I DREAM by Mete Banda

(I Married You)

I dreamt of you last night,
With your hair well decked, standing in that stunning white dress,
Your face glowing bright,
As you stood there gazing at my obviously dumbfound-looking face,
Gleaming as a ray of light,
Anxiously awaiting the kiss, and that delightful embrace,
To forget of those in sight,
And be taken to a world of our – a passionate secret place.

You seemed quite elated,
At least portrayed it and so my profound mind thought,
Even more with the awaited wish granted,
As witnesses vote to confirm their downright support,
Mutual bliss is ignited,
And for your voluptuous red lips mine spontaneously sought,
But damn! My dream interrupted,
This annoying little lad and his relentless morning revolt.

HERE WE ARE WARRIORS AND FAMOUS SORCERERS by Nambisa Chibuye


Here we are warriors
and famous sorcerers
(First Order of Merlin).
We are distinguished princes
and graceful queens.
We hold power in our right hands,
and shake the earth with our left.
We are more courageous than the Spartans,
much more ingenious than the Romans,
and wealthier, much wealthier than the Persians.

Here we are dreamers;
we are clad in cloth of gold.
We are conquerors;
we are known in all the land.
Here reality can’t touch us;
we are protected by the poetic wall like this.

Here we commune with every animal
we hold the world in awe.
We are one with our swords,
sworn to protect what is ours.

Here we are beautiful innocent maidens
and devilish handsome villains.
We are stories and legends,
gently unfolding.
We are lonely wanderers,
coming home after years of traveling.
We are the undiscovered talent,
we are BitterSweet.

LIFE OF A MAN by Alexander PrinceCharmer Brown


In the breezy, cold early morning, at the break of dawn
Out of the womb of a lovely woman, an angel is born, a part of her own.
From the humility of her home, joy flows everywhere,
Sheer pride, untold praise and cheer fills the air.

In the late warm morning, dangling in the atmosphere, like an aromatic breeze, is the voice of a toddler.
Spasmodic utterances, without rhythm, yet perfect to his mother.
In amusement, she watches him play,
Praying for blessings to walk him through every day.

In the blistering heat of the noon-day sun, an adolescent walks,
And runs towards pleasure and his peers, but away from his folks.
Thrilled and overwhelmed, she stands awatch,
Her fingers crossed, wishing for his life not to end up in a ditch.

In the cool daring breeze of a lively evening,
A young man straws, head high, he knows everything.
She sits him down and her loving advice offers,
But the sound of her voice is noise and his proud soul it bothers.

In the cold lonely night, under the crescent silver moon, an old man is wrapped in regret,
Upon each shooting star, he wishes he’d set his life straight.
He beats himself about, he’s sorry for his mother and for his life which is a complete blunder.
But even the loudest ‘sorry’ can’t reach her now, she’s six feet under.
By Kapa187

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