When there was love I saw the white clouds Crystal clear Like the sweet spring Leaping in joyful haste To lands that thirst For the
Month: April 2019
A Psalm: Your Voice
When I spoke with You I felt the rhythm in Your voice It gave me the push to wake the solo song singing in me,
Masked lover
Sweet are your words and talking Even softer are the touch of your hands But the moments the scales came falling It was crystal clear
Muse: By the Waterside
Once by the Waterside I strayed Minding the car traffic racing about A bridge led down a couple of stairs And I happened on the
Ladawa: An African love song
When you look at me, it tells me many stories I drown in the ocean of thought and love Will it be your slim hands
Easter, 2019
I see the world through Your eyes And it’s clear how much You loved Even to take my grief and pain away I celebrate Your
Twinkle
How the stars glitter tonight In thousands they shine Twinkling, above the skies! Winking at children who watch Through their window curtains The mild feelings
Muse: Rainmaker
I shall command the rain about So please stand aside and watch Make ready, get your pots Dance in the warmth it brought Enjoy also
Morning Sun
Hail the sun rises with her gold, Across the horizon she paints the land The green great plains lay low Watching her presence grow The
The Lightning
From my curtains I peered to see your flash Before now you have kept my candle light busy Trashing the paper work all over the
Muse: Teach me
Lay me by the side of the brook, Closer to the brown colored rocks Make me see the waters tumble over So teach me how
An African song
“Na da oo, O Na da oo! Kuje kusanar!” Bring the cymbals, bring also the gongs Let’s make an African song… Before you hit the
Future
You are three hours away from me Sometimes, a second, forty minutes Or a month or a whole year! Masked, you would not let me
Three Poems: The Shepherd, Dance for me and Say you believe me
1. The Shepherd Night calls Stars glitter up the skies Picturing stories Which can not be told So the Shepherd views all From his bed
Memories
Memories are sweet or sad moments that live with us Like the gladness the rains give when we sleep at night Or the painting of
Color called dirt
There’s no color called dirt but that of the earth It is the hue that gives life yet it drags on the floor It gives
Beauty
Beauty is the painting of paths That men had never walked or seen Like the pebbles which count not their existence Beauty walks through the
Dark Clouds
It is morning but it is still dark Well, the clouds may have gone for a procession, A procession hidden behind the heavenly firmaments Strangely
A Tale of Two Rats
Gather around the fireplace Sit and have some warmth It is a cold night, is it? But we must tell this tale So listen to
Antartica
I want to see the great Antarctica And the trail of the dunes of Sahara, Save the tales of two different places And reach out
