Africa, Poetry and Love art Poetry rhyme

Love Poem: Remind Me Again

Why Not Love?

Do I need to be in love with someone to write about love? The answer is no!

As mentioned earlier in a blog post, I always write about love because of the natural and phenomenal beauty I observe. I’ve trained my mind to see the beauty in everything and anything. Consequently, I fall in love with this beauty. I can write a love poem about a beautiful hillside, a waterfall, a dress or green fields, or for a stranger (who may never know I wrote about her/him!), or yuck – the little mouse living in the street sewer because of this love. The fact is what one person sees as disgusting may be a thing of joy for another. For instance, the pleasure of seeing a living thing (say a street rat, literally), for me, supersedes the eyesore associated with its unkempt living conditions. I put out my feelings on paper the best way I can while trying to grasp the words to describe them. I’m guilty of always sneaking back to change the wordings of my poems.

I can confidently say that writing on love had positively affected how I perceive or take things. I don’t usually judge people before knowing them. I can also say that about 80 per cent of my work on this blog is centred on the theme of love and hope.

I noticed that why the world suffers wars and distrust is because we are distracted by hatred which is the opposite of love. Love will not hurt or cause harm to fellow humanity or the environment. I won’t go too far with that sermon; you know what I mean.

Here is a short love poem I wrote a while ago. I haven’t imagined any particular friend’s countenance for this piece. It will be just an artistic display. The best part of being a poet is that our work revolves around our minds. We only can feel the depths, and we can share with the world only if we chose to. Enjoy.

Your pretty face reminds me of the sun,
When she rose from the back of many hills
Dragging her gold blanket before farms
So if I am to paint this beautiful muse
I would imagine sunrise over wheat fields
And fast approaching evening when birds fly home


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