There’s something about this young maiden
The way her hair rises to praise the heavens

Stars in her eyes; all bright and glowing
How her skin sparkles; how it glistens

She’ll tell her story and you will listen
To the warm, rich tones of her voice

She’ll move her feet
How she can dance
Her dainty leaps
The shy, sweet glance

And then she’ll come and take your hand
“Please, dance with me”
Her soft voice pleads

She’ll take you on a walk
Along the bank of her mind’s stream
Till the sun sets and dusk is drawn
And she leads you into your dreams

Her touch is inviting
Her kisses divine
Her aura is bright
Her smile a delight

She’ll let you climb the walls of her city
She whispers
“You better know how to please me”


My musings on World Poetry Day collated themselves into this little piece while I strolled the streets of Twitter. How did you mark the day?


Don’t Call Me Godless

Don’t call me godless
I was burning once too
With the flames that give life
But now my spirit is suffocated
Dry, dark, asphyxiated
Sin sits on my peace
Legs crossed, refusing to move
Refusing to let Him pull me through
But shut up, who the hell are you
Damn it
You don’t know the first thing about me

So I walk the broad path because it’s easy
I’ll keep mum, hands my side
But don’t think it’s a breeze
Don’t think it’s comfortable watching hell Taunting me at the end of the tunnel
Instead of light, I get damnation
Fingers pointing; I hear them laughing

I’m a child of one whose father is The Father
It’s them I belong to, not you rather
So please go ahead; turn your boos on
I’m waiting in the cold with no shoes on
But I know I’ll find the light again
The warmth that sets my soul aflame
But till then, I’ll sit here
Legs crossed, refusing to move