The thing with Writerly Insomnia

The thing with Writerly Insomnia

I hail from lands that might seem strange to you my dear
So I have many things to tell you
But I waste much time in trying to make the story short
and encoding it in the language you understand
Sometimes I get lost in poetic mazes of my own making

As for my bloodshot eyes
it’s just a “thing” that comes with writerly insomnia

But you see
the “thing” with writerly insomnia is life threatening:
I have been staring at blank pages for hours
pondering:
the ink I put, wont it only yield blotted pages?

Dark and Ominous Angel

Dark and Ominous Angel

(Inspired by Inno, and Kathy)

Life’s tide was too high,
But I was calm and content;
As the raging waves steered me on the right path

Then I heard her husky voice,
She sang of hurt; of hearts bruised by my kind,
I got curious, and cruised off course to her.

I found her; a dark and ominous angel,
She is a stunning hour glass, from waist to chest,
With enchanting long raven black mane.
On that day she wore tight fitting floral-prints,
Her bosom overstretching her flimsy bodice;
Honestly, that is all I could see there and then,
Deep in my heart, though, I wanted to see beyond that,
To behold the beauty of her heart,
But as I got nearer her, her voice became deeper and harsh, with emotion,
She flinched, choked on her lyrics,
And started bobbing in and out of the water
I thought she was drowning,
And wanted to dive in for her;
Being from the land, I could not swim,
But I let myself fall for her, into the icy water,
I clung unto her; shivering but subdued.
We held for a moment; she breathing heavily on my ear
And I on her nape,
Kindling a fire I knew I would never douse

We swayed to her tune, during that priceless moment,
Her fish tail grazed my legs; I cringed,
So she flinched sheepishly, slid off my hold and swam away
Leaving me to the vices of the sea;
Only her beautiful face remains vivid.

Her song was still resonant in my heart as I expired;
She sang me to death.

FAR APART

FAR APART

Some things I would hold dear,
Vowing that I would never let them go,
But misfortune often pries open my fist,
Plans and dreams are shattered, they melt, and they dissolve-
Mirages.

Some friends I hold dear,
And cherish all the time we spend together,
I am filled with nostalgia
Each time that I remember
The things we did; and those we did not,
Of how we met; of how some have lasted when they stay,
How some have departed; never to meet again in this world,
Their past presence lingers on, yet still remain out of this realm-
Out of reach.

A special friend I have held dear; you.
But your existence was threatened
So you keep fading away in mysterious ways;
Under a shroud where friendship is unwelcome,
You hide away,
But we are not to blame for the way it is,
Maybe it is who we are – magnet and glass,
Maybe it is the way we should be,
And I guess we have to remain so,
Just like our worlds-
Far apart.

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Copyright © Victor Gordon

Victor Gordon Musara (Vic Tor Jacob) is on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/vic.tor.1213986

Disclaimer: The images used herein are taken from the Internet and submitted by the author. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

Beyond a distant Horizon

Beyond a distant Horizon

[Written for Z]

The sun is risen above the summit of a mountain- a Dwala-
Beaming, chasing darkness away;
Rejuvenating the veld as the dew shimmers,
Pasture assumes its deep brown lustre
As if trying to blend with the golden sun’s rays;
The Dwala – where it had momentarily perched-
Has slowly set it free for its westerly journey

My Tropical Savannah is a beauty:
Deep brown pasture in summer, clustered bushes and umbrella trees
Irregular footpaths run across its plains,
I assume one of them leads to you,
But as I trace them, they shy away at a distant horizon,
As if the sky is eating them up
***
The sun brings a light breeze mid-flight,
It blows softly on my quill,
Making a melody with the fur;
Whistling a song on the brim of my inkwell

On one footpath, I spot two love birds coming from the well,
The damsel is balancing an earthen calabash on her head;
My lips crease into a marvel-smile at their chatter and carefree laughter
I am surprised at myself for sharing their moment of bliss,
But then, it is always easy to share happiness.

Bliss is…abstract,
As the beauty and radiance of our sun

But the burden of sadness is…concrete,
Something I can share with you,
Only after I trace these footpaths beyond the horizon
***
6996302-african-savannah-sunset

The dying sun perches on a faraway ridge like an alter offering
Its deep brown rays permeate the foliage.
By and by, colours fade away with darkness.

The veld now looks old and beaten, almost gothic,
The sun is gone, leaving a trace of a blue-brown spectrum;
I hope it has come to you my dear,
With the same happiness it brings me
***

Darkness sets in.

Though my sentiments are hurt at the thought of having to close my inkwell,
I love the sweet calmness reigning in harmony with the sound of nocturnals,
Besides, seeing another beautiful sunrise is enough consolation.

[show_avatar email=536 user_link=authorpage avatar_size=100]

Copyright © Victor Gordon

Victor Gordon Musara (Vic Tor Jacob) is on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/vic.tor.1213986

Disclaimer: The images used herein are taken from the Internet and submitted by the author. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

AIR BORNE WISP

AIR BORNE WISP

(A poem for Zee, from the heart)

At the genesis of eternity,
Immortal love was born
When Matahari and Bulan were born,
Matahari is blazing fire;
Bulan is black ice,

The four seasons began their cycleAIR BORNE WISP 1
According to the positions of Bulan and Matahari
The conception of Fire and Ice
Gave birth to time

Matahari was born inert and golden,
With a radiance which makes Bulan snow-white;
Bulan would have been but a bleak bloat
Of darkness without Matahari

DEAR Matahari, our love is an airborne wisp;
Swept and whirled by Nature,
It flies in the air like a flight feather,
With not a care
About where its bearer takes it;
Swaying in this, and that way
Coincidence being rare,
It is only at full moon,
When I can trip upon your beam
And gladly embrace the ‘Light of Honour’’

Oh, my dear Bulan;AIR BORNE WISP 3
Our destiny was predetermined before creation
Our love is not easy to nurture

You have been the centre of my orbit,
And I have orbited all my life,
I dance around you Matahari,
Oh how I would love to dance a tango with you!
I have made myself vulnerable,
And have laid myself bare before you.
What effort have you made to reach out for me my love?
I will not lament over the brevity of life,
We are the elements of time,
We are time itself my dear
Each step I take as I orbit
Gives birth to the second,
Minute,
Days,
Months;
And years

I know eclipse is not enough Bulan,
But in our helpless passion,
I have chosen to shield you from my vehement desire;
But have hurt you in trying to protect you.
In my inertness
I have chosen to give life, warmth and light.
To give life is to love,
But is to love to give?

Matahari,
It’s the pain of separation,
There is a chimera chasing me,
I wish it would catch up with me soon.
It is a dream of us spiralling
Into some convivial space of the universe,
Dancing a tango
It is a dream of you holding me close
Unceasingly whispering endearments,
And I, gasping, moaning; melting…
Should the dream ever materialize?
Can Fire ever dance with Ice?
I do not know.

Love is long-suffering,
*Love is patient and kind,
True love is immortal.

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Copyright © Victor Gordon

Victor Gordon Musara (Vic Tor Jacob) is on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/vic.tor.1213986

Disclaimer: The image used herein is taken from the Internet. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

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