Tuesday 29 August 2017

A few short stories from long ago

Thirst - the poem

I imagine how you would taste
Are you a hot cup of Earl grey on a snowy winter’s day
Or a tall glass of ‘ice water’ under the Abuja sun
I know I want more than a taste
I’m thirsty and I need a drink

This sounds a bit lame
You’re looking out your window at another
I’m sure she’s had a taste or drink or whatever
She’s close to the waters how could she be thirsty
But I’m thirsty and I need a drink                                                                                                                                                                                 
I wonder if you are the ocean or a calm clear lake
Would you be salty or natures divine spring
Would my thirst be quenched; would you I be left wanting for more
From the look in your distant eyes it might be the latter but
I’m thirsty and I need a drink

So I move closer and offer my cup
You turn to me and my knees go weak
Its fair weather but I feel both a shiver and a fever
You pour your drink and my lips quiver
I’m thirsty and I have a drink

Sweet, the taste of your nectar on my tongue
Salty, I’m not sure if it’s my tears or you
I drink up as fast as I can and hold out my cup to you
But you’re gone
Hot, I knew it, you felt more like Earl grey than cold water
Cold, the way I feel now that you’re gone
Salty, it was you all along! What have I done?
I’m still thirsty and I need a drink

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Tears

Do not ask me not to cry
I cried after the surgery
When the meds wore off
It hurt long after the knife left
It hurt after the scar was formed
I cried before time healed the wound
I cried when Mariah left Nick
So I beg you
Leave if you must
But do not ask me not to cry
........................................................................................................................................................
Letter from my diary

I long to know the words your lips are afraid to say
Words your mind is scared to form
So I wait for you
Hoping you’ll somehow be brave enough to let the pen write
And you’ll write without thinking; with lots of feeling
Words you do not know yet
“I can handle it”, I whisper
I’m not like that gossip, your computer
Share your secrets with me, no one would ever know
Facebook will never know
Fill me up, file me away
Lock me up if you please
But write in me
Release them
Words left unsaid for far too long
Long before he left
I saw the fear in your eyes when he slammed the door
The night you lost your voice
“Dear Diary...” I hoped you would write
When you looked at me, and flipped through my pages
But you turned away
You need me
We both know this
Write in me, no one would ever know
File me away or tear me to shreds
At least you would be free from the words burning in you
Write, baby, write
I see you typing away on your keyboard
Traitor
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Rain
“Every time it rains, I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases...” Ace of Base

I remember the wine and ‘missing cake’ from all those years ago
The cake got smashed up, you said
Just give it to me like that, I thought
I remember the surprise gift and visit
I remember the promise of forever
I remember the pouring rain
And the time I danced in the rain
I was cold
But there was a fighter within,
“You won’t defeat me!” she roared
I learnt to ignore the rain
Plod on in spite of the storm
And appreciate the good days
Those rare occasions when it didn’t rain
But today,
“I see dark clouds out my window; I know the storm is coming any minute...” Ace of Base
And it makes no sense, but I feel Hope
Hope because God knows, He feels, He hears
Hope because He cares, He loves, He answers
“Look, here comes the very first drop...” Ace of Base
I am ready

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Dance

My voice is out of tune and my steps are without rhythm.
I would love to hit the right notes, the high ones, the impossible ones.
Sing my song with the passion, skill and energy that would make you all stop and stare.
But I cannot.
It’s a complicated melody. 
I need a lot of training, practice, discipline. 
I need a vocal coach.
Maybe next year, I’ll sing better. 
Then I will sing louder and shout from the roof tops.
Maybe you would hear me then.
I keep trying to find my rhythm.
I know I will dance better when I find a drummer.
We would practice together as I dance to the beat of his drums.
And sing without missing a beat...
Not today.
All I have is a song.

My voice may be a little out of tune and my steps without rhythm, but my song is perfect.