Life is so unscripted,
that most times
when we struggle so hard
to get the best lines
we end up with the wrong parts.
©
Jacqueline
Tag: #poem
busting at the seams…
I don’t do drugs,
she told herself in consolation,
yet she stuffed her face
and got sedated
on pies and cream cakes,
her righteous self
busting at the seams
This is me of late. Guilty! I am an emotional eater and when I’m unduly stressed like I’ve been for many weeks now, I go into eating overdrive.
Uninvited…
I saw it coming.
I grudgingly said hello.
I allowed it to simmer and linger.
Depression.
That uninvited guest.
Comes to spend the night on your couch,
and ends up
staying for weeks on end
in your room and bathrobe.
I have my episodes, like I did this past week and a lot of times they are triggered by very innocuous, mundane things. such as a break in my rituals.
Sometimes, I can’t even put a finger on the precise point of trigger, or even encapsulate my emotions properly in words. What I do know, however, is that as hard as it may be to get out of that bed and bathrobe and face your day, for those of us who go through these down times, it’s very important to focus on daily pick-me-up rituals. They have a way of keeping you grounded.
Visions…
I want to walk the earth,
to capture its vision
through the lens of my eyes
maybe many memories
will be framed
to hang on the wall
but most importantly,
are those memories made
and stored in my mind’s eye.
© 2018 Jacqueline
Travesty…
when leaders stole a Nation
from under its feet
they said it would make us great
like we have never known before
but we sat down
and we drank wine
forgetting to weep in our cups
and mourn our loss
they sold our land
for shillings for their pockets
heritage given to men
who held them by the balls
bereft, we are left adrift
‘cos travesty besieges us;
for we were sold falsehood
and promises that leak like a basket
© 2018 Jacqueline
Hold It…
hold each day
like a tiny precious dew-drop of water,
gathered on the tip of a petal,
admire her round shape,
for once she rolls into the dust
its gone and indeed lost.
…
hold each day
by its precious graceful moments,
savour each hour,
never let it go sour,
for once you let moments escape
time lost can’t be caught in videotape
©
Jacqueline
Madame Cecily…The resident in my head.
I don’t think I’m very mad,
I just rehearse by talking to myself
and all the other voices
that have taken up residence
inside my head.
I make friends with them.
My latest resident is a mystery,
her name is ‘Madame Cecily.’
She loves dressing in deep rich colours
and laughs a little too loudly.
She’s full of wit and fiery independence,
her purse is full of surprises.
She’s not one for tepid tea
but stiff copious cups of warm brew.
Her caustic tongue makes grown men cry
yet her bosom has put many to rest.
She’s not one to suffer fools
but her humour brings tears to the eyes.
She ran Miss Flighty into a corner
and flirts endlessly with Beau,
told Lady Dampers a few home truths,
and Lord Lugard, she called a bombastic fool.
She told me that I was too eager to please
I certainly wasn’t too pleased with her.
With a twinkle in her mischievous, knowing eyes,
and full lips curved in a naughty smile,
now she sashays down a passage in my head,
humming a ditty and saying unequivocally,
‘Loosen up my dear. Live loud and well darling’
‘Cos life is too short and just a dream.’
© 2018 Jacqueline
Rivers Of Blood…
Rivers of pain
swim deep in her eyes
each droplet of tear
a raw testimony of anguish
that words fail to capture.
Rivers of blood
flow down her tributaries
for every slain soul
a Country torn with genocide
bloodletting too much to comprehend
Mountains of prayers
offered up
Chineke, Kabiyesi, Jehovah
forgive us
Mercy we seek, solace we plead.
©
Jacqueline
My home Country Nigeria groans in pain under poor leadership. When evil men occupy spaces where they shouldn’t, strife and anarchy reign supreme. The sufferings and gnashing of teeth of Nigerian indigenes keeps multiplying by the day due to the recycling of avaricious, deeply corrupt, mean-spirited and small-minded old politicians. I pray for the revival of my Nation. I pray for a revolution and restoration.
Loving My Enemy…
Who is my enemy?
I ask myself;
If I called someone else,
it’s an error in judgement.
With deeper introspection,
it’s a hard truth
that my biggest enemy
has always been me.
I need to fall
boldy in love again
reclaiming my authentic self
with no holds barred.
© 2018 Jacqueline
Spill Over…
My dark, silent thoughts
are no longer at peace with me.
—
Restless, they simply have
to spill into lettered words.
© 2018 Jacqueline
a cooking pot and twisted tales 