Zeyya, My Kenya

Mombasa…my love grows

As her beauty touched my heart like the sight of her brown skin,

I sought her lush greenery and crisp ocean waters,
I am hers, she is mine, touch not her former torments because as does the mother suffer in childbirth so does her loving and beautiful reward emerge,
I hear the beautiful call to prayer for those faithful and sense the other choices made by others who believe–their business all,
Sand and ocean proclaimed loves healing waters and intense sun as up on Bamburi Beach the waves and tides chased and taunted visitors and family,
Just as the beauty of Tudor Creek with its octopus shape is lost on day visitors do the citizenry love its long grasses that move as people who progress through fog to begin their day, or imagined as spirits whose tattered and rotted burial shrouds wave gently and reach to touch all living, perhaps in hope of a rebirth or memory to share,
Languish not upon the Umba River for there are times when it will widen and hurl all from its shores to places unknown or as of yet undiscovered,
Feast upon beauty my Zeyya for not as much of yours as I have compared to your land visited up on my heart and now cemented thus.

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Passions Find

bigoldtree

I rejoice in the moment, upon finding true love; glorious acceptance my heart soared high above;

Undefined, now totally understood, my heart captured beauty unpretentious, as before you I should;

Open arms awaited my embrace, within them all is forgotten, my needs now replaced;

Passion thrills, jumbled judgement–all refined, our crushing hug testifies that our locked hearts prove genuine.

Truth of love is plain and evident on our faces, loves healing powers erased all of pains shadowed traces;

I raise my cup to you tender beauty, to your sacrifice and patience, as passions flight upward caused roiling emotions–a storm we weather searing our devotion;

I cradled your passions, held fast to tumultuous upheavals of loves mixture of emotion, while you found yourself, your place in this most curious of romantic solutions.
bigoldtree

Lost Love, Lost Self, Lost Life

Crush my heart. End the misery.
As does the Earth to a pebble
dropping from the heavens above.
Hope is vaporized in an instant as
quickly as we see the tiny bright
illuminating star, which upon
drawing closer–ceases to be.


Rocking to and fro, unique but to myself…the hospital staff observes but from a polite distance. I whimper, when I think one is near to hear. I hold my breath until I might faint. Sweating, lips parted, I gasp until one comes to mop my brow and gently place wet swabs by which I draw water past my lips.


I’m running as fast as I can,
the crowd is screaming, streaming
behind my desperate wake. Frightened, I look not left nor right but run, run, run. I try to remember–if you are right handed run to the left. Never…I feel the pain in my back and
stumble forward. The crowd catches me and begin to pummel my face and body with fists, sticks, the odd brick.
I’m dying from the blood flow out of my back. What, do you mean
“burn the Warlock, burn the Warlock, burn the Warlock”–as I drift off to sleep.

Wayfarer Guide: Escape

I gasped, not from exertion, but as my heart
pumped beyond endurance – even beyond reason.

I swooned my gaze, my mind – it’s logic shattered,
my judgement waves in tatters like wind blown cloth,
as storm shaken boughs from the willow trees; their
kindred flow reverently.

I felt your gaze and with it my own reason scattered
as leaves ahead of the quickening storm, my knees
trembling air enters not, my heaving chest.

Clawing at same, I wonder will I ever see the end of
this day. Your beauty, curve of your nose above my
lips pressed against yours.

I feel your exhalation tickling my lips, I squirm
joyfully, religiously, as if my very existence must
garner your approval.

I ran away in spirit, away from your gaze, while
standing in your presence, too in love to move.

Then it comes like it is supposed to, come hater
spare my angst not, and curse me for the fool I
must be.

Just as pain reaches for my heart, I experience a
momentary hope that perhaps this time, I pray this
time – not let me feel the agony, the loss, the
ever welcoming bands that wrap my heart.

Crush the life from me, twist the air from my lungs
and with loves determined blade slice slowly, deeply,
so that with beat the heart embraces blade and my own
folly.

Don’t let me squirm away from my faith, my duty – you,
my reason to carry on with my love.

I tried to drown it, to bury it within the great depths
of the ocean. I found myself propelling downward braving
the creatures curious and hostile that sought to make me stay.

I bore upward with the cask, clutched to my breast.
Tears washed away by ocean waters, my love desirous to escape
its confines from within the golden chest.

Mocking me, love retained its place in my mind and heart,
not cruel, but with a sincere honesty that said, “Gentle spirit,
you’ve completed play?”

Cease heart.

Amy

Amy-Winehouse

Courtesy of Amy Winehouse Productions

Winehouse

Amy

You found your way back among us,
had you ever left?

I remembered you in the way life
choose to grace you with beauty
and voice to sing, your voice
could do many things.

Hair dark as the night sky,
sun-kissed, it radiates a
silver-gold blue hue as it
reflects true beauty.

Piled upon your head or
falling askew, it was your
persona that radiated true.

My eyes swallowed your painted
treasures that I would never
fully see, as I measured the
path of switchbacks you seemed
only to see.

I longed to share a cigarette
with you as the smoke curled from
your lips, I would place my face
close to yours and lips would
caress lips.

The tendril of blue-white smoke
would enter into your body, my
face pressed close to your soft
lips as you waited for me to draw
it from your mouth.

Slowly, you would yield the smoke
as eyes slowly close, we shared
what lovers do so often pressing
nose to nose.

I know it is not a perfect thing,
I refuse to be offended, offense
is a relative thing by those who
refuse to mend broken fences.

When you left it was the pain
that losing could suddenly bring,
were we lovers or even friends
your phone would nightly ring.

Torn away, I imagined your
beautiful innocence as like
a child dazzled by the white
light you continued towards it
with glee, no more hurts, pain,
uncertainty or strife this world
no more will see you sing.

How joyous might be the reunion
as a new voices aids the angels,
so pure now of thought you
understand all, even to why
I was musing.

The pundits claim after the fact
they knew that you were losing,
or was the pain too much for your
fragile body that even Earth knew
it was your own choosing.

I see you again and my heart lifts
as again the world needs cleansing,
will we ever hear a voice like yours
again that can burn with beauty as a
fire than can be singeing.

Pushing

life marks us all.

life demands all but asks for nothing.

life finds our glaring weaknesses and brings out our most hidden strengths;

life challenges us by the minute, tasks us on the hour, and grants us little or no reprieve by the day.

life gives us our own reasons for declaring we are here and staying, not for the moment to rise, burn brightly, then drop as rapidly back to earth as falling magma or volcanic rock, disappearing forever into Earth’s embrace.

life decides not that it is the way of we, a people, who have long entertained and pondered the eternal heavens;

life ordained that we were not granted the insight or mental abilities to say yes to the first word as we understand and thus consider done our march toward the eternal search for truth.

life provides – i see answers; yes. but they are not mine to accept as being one true way, but rather a series of truths to be constructed together, pondered, debated; then accepted.

life determines that it consists of knowledge, passion, curiosity, steadfastness, singleness of purpose, love, humor, wants, fear, anger, dread, peace, tact;

the list might continue unabated.

Modest Beauty

Low slung shoes were dark
brown with the sides open
towards their heels, her pale
skin complimented the brown
covering the rest of her body.

Practical heels were topped
with bows at the toe, and her
foot cleavage was delicately
peeking from beneath
cinnamon colored hose.

She was adorned in a lovely
violet print dress of white, pink,
blue, and yellow flowers. Her
rich black hair was full, thick,
trimmed and prim.

She was in line ahead of me
and I longed for a picture of
her to add to the mental image
that I even now hold dear.

I don’t recall seeing her face
Modest Beauty, a cart ahead
of me. I wondered as she
seemed to shift slightly on
low delicate heels, if she
kicked them off, upon her safe
return home.

I wondered if young hands
with eyes filled with love
reached for Mom – as a
spent and grateful sitter
cashes out for the week.

Perhaps suspicious eyes
keeping past displays in
check, hug Mom, then
quickly volunteer to help
unload, gather and put
away the purchases – from
a by now, equally suspicious
Mom.

Ah, here it comes;

before asking to go to the
latest released movie with
friends for the evening.

A grateful Mom, of course,
down time – Mom time, get
it while you can. Yes. Have
fun, I know where you are at
all times – okay. MoM. Good.

Perhaps you work indoors for
a very professional group, or
were you seeking work – dressing
to keep your interview in the mind
of the management.

I know not for them, but you
have cemented your impression
Modest Beauty upon my heart.