The Poetry Marathon

I’ve always wanted to see snow,

To be in its cold embrace,

To watch as it falls around me,

My presence not getting in the grand way of things.

Appreciate every single flake,

For being so uniquely itself,

Yet looking so beautiful,

When it melds in with its brethren.

I’ve wanted to stretch my hand out,

Watch as it lands in my palm,

Feel how soft Mother Nature can be,

Yet feel the power of her might.

Decorating the trees and roofs,

Never mind if its one of her own,

As we put up lights on all of them too,

Her children and ours melding into each other.

The beauty of the snow,

And her dance as she falls,

Remaining as beautiful as she is,

Not minding if we’re there to see…

~thryaksha

Holiday in December -Poem 10

I am originally from Nigeria

Born in the UK to Nigerian Parents

Who met in London in 1960.

I am married to a Nigerian

But I am British born with Dual Nationality

We went to Nigeria for Xmas in Dec 2020

On our way back we always stop in Abudhabi

We spent few nights in Dubai and then on Xmas eve

we arrived in Abudhabi for Xmas.

My husband booked us a Xmas buffet meal in the Marriott hotel

We later went to Dubai Mall for the evening

We had been to the Village with 50 Nations

We had been on the  Safari ride Dunes

We had also been to the Burj Khalifa

So this was very Tourist like and being a muslim nation

I was surprised with the amount of decorations

We had to put on our masks

We went to the market on day one

We met with the locals and have made some friends

This was completely different to Nigeria

We spent few nights in Lagos the capital

We left for Ondo which is three hours drive

The roads were bumpy and the journey took

About six hours with so much traffic

We spent time with family- my husband is from a

Large family and has brothers and sisters abroad

We had so much food to eat and spent time with his

Mum. My daughter and son visited with us

The painting reminds me of the paintings in

The Marriott when we walk past to the lift

It also reminds me of the painting on display

In the hotel reception in Dubai

This has brought back memories for me.

But I must say I look forward to Abudhabi

I don’t really enjoy vacating in Nigeria.

@Sabinah Adewole  26/06/2021

Free prose poem.

You took away the bright colours
that day when you left,
along with rest and ease
slyly while I slept.
So my nights are black and blue
and grey, loads of grey
that even moonlight
wears a long black veil.
Black and blue
And black mixed in tired grey.

So today I got a box of paints
And waited…
When I thought I was ready

for the vibrant colours
to streak back into my life
I said the magic words
I dipped the brush
in startling vermillion hues.

I spattered paint on my canvas,
It came away blue.

black and blue

black and blue and read all over

in the pieces of me popped out in this mess

like straw holes in pie crust

made to allow hot air to escape

so the inside gets softer

or something like that told to me by good intentioned monsters

older than my desire to give a shit for their advice:

black light in the blues made to make the whites glow with more pride

than any of them knows what to do with…

so much like that feeling of knowing better

when that’s not the truth known by anyone.

the only thing i learned through all of this smearing

of one layer over the other

is when the pieces are cut out

i am just as dark on the inside.

(c) r. l. elke

Carved by His Hand

Complicit in your responses, feeding me the words I long to hear,
Yet I listen to the subtle ironies and undertones,
The microcosmic expressions that barely give you away,
Painful intentions to control and subjugate.
I sense it, I feel it,
Yet our secrets shared lock us in destiny’s arms.

Caution creeps in, and I play the fool, or perhaps the fool plays me,
‘Sister Aurora, a Godly woman in dress, but something wicked hides,’
My dishonest words cascade from the ridge, testing him.
‘Creator of murals, creator of etchings on soft skin her hubris.’
Do you sense my deception?

‘Artist becomes subject to our vision, stilled and starved.’
He gives nothing away, lacks expression, I delve deeper.
‘Charitable member of our priory, answerable only to God. Or us.’
My fingers trace patterns about his neck and shoulders.
‘She would come if called, assistance in the community.’

The snare is set, the seed of an idea rapidly shooting and blooming,
My grip tightens, kneading the tense flesh of my dire lover.
Needing the rigid flesh of my lover, gasping for his accord.
‘Would she not make the perfect subject for our canvas?’
My lips brush his as I await his stern response.

Inside I burn,
Inside I fear,
Inside I tremble,
Inside my suspicion flowers.
Is this what you desire?
Am I to be carved by your hand?

A memory I chose

Not to remember

But still dims up in style

Coming in memorial fragments

Taking up the holiday space

A space that was never in existence,

But fought tooth and nails

To make hostage

I was almost of age

Ready to say bye to holidays

Because they were so childish

And I’m no more a child

Yet, it made the family cut

You know, a tradition

A tradition that has turned to custom

A custom that changed to belief

A belief that drives faith

A belief that togetherness is unity

And a lying tongue is dishonesty

That a flaming one can kill

I wish then in my anxious mind

That December should leave already

Telling my journal

“January! I can’t wait”.

Many years ago.

The farmers.

Harvest there crops.

In the months of,

May and June.

While the nons pray.

For a clear beautiful day.

Wives tales passed down the ages
Oral traditions dating back well before pen and ink
Are all true, or so we are led to think
But …
Chocolate doesn’t cause acne
And while fish as food for the brain is almost right
Carrots won’t help you see at night
Reading in a dim room
Doesn’t cause damage to your eyes
And as to spicy food giving you an ulcer … that’s just lies
Wet hair in the rain makes you ill
But feeding a cold and starving a fever
Is simple not true for either
So remember …
Although we may think that Grannie knows best
Science proves old proverbs may just jest

All Hallows Eve tanka ~

all ways    Hallowe’en
wear a costume wear a mask
hide behind sequins
someone else someone other
never never peel them off