Inspirational Transports
Another World
By Hank Edson
If from birth to hear music, one were transported:
Another world; if from life, from the conception
One were surrounded in melody
As the only expression;
If music hung in the air, like notes of oxygen,
Their breath to mean survival?
If until death even in your soul you could never
Speak no, read no, hear no evil
But only paint only one image,
One thousand words for all;
If your humanity sat perched upon an easel,
You would inspire.
If in time your dance should lose its sense of balance,
Effortlessly you may float in the magnitudes higher
Over life, through the heavens
Of creation's desire;
If you unburden your thoughts of time's tightwire:
Oh, Angelic Vision!
Copyright © Hank Edson 2008
In The World Where I Live
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THE OTHER SIDE OF PASSION
A poem by Omoseye Bolaji
Dynamite in pulchritudinous form
Delectable contours attenuating the masculine will
Statuesque figure, model-like
Her carriage deliciously beguiling
Tantalizing, knowledgeably sensuous lips
Eyes reeling one in, ineluctably
Skin alluringly refulgent
And dressed to kill
Dare I confess -
That I trembled at her seductive hearth?
That I dreamed of having her as mine
Impossible. An absurd ludicrous dream!
But the dream came true…
Maggie intoxicatingly became mine
Days and nights of bliss. Unbridled passion
So dreams do come true
Hayibo, now the dream has metamorphosed
Into grisly, Technicolour nightmare
My body is rocked with disease
Purulent outgrowths all over
And panoply of others in its wake
Maggie has given me a “social disease”
Perhaps even Aids
Hearken to my pathos and cries
CRAWLING UNDER
By Neo Mvubu
As I was packing my gun and bullets
I began to kiss them goodbye
My family
I told them I’d be back
They cried and told me to stop
But
I jumped into a foreigner’s skin
Cut wires and crawled
Cutting my hands and knees
I ran into a foreign land
My heart beat like drums
As fear came from my mind
What if I die
What will happen to my kids, my wife?
What if?
But I had no choice
I had to at least try to save us
From the injustices caused by my country
I thought I would be free
But I’m still in chains
Chains of my brothers
Calling me names
Worst of all I have no one to turn to
I miss my family, my home, my country
I miss the way it was
But now I’m here AND
They hate us
They throw stones at us
When will all this fighting end?
Is it my accent?
Am I too dark of a shade?
Do you see drugs when you see me?
I am tired
Tired of blacks against blacks
Whites against blacks
The hatred against brothers and sisters
What happened to Ubuntu?
(Neo Mvubu is a poet based in South Africa)