Tag Archive | Poetry

Naive…

Image result for government images

she laughs
at the naivety
and the smallness
of their minds

they think that
vampires only walk
and feed
in the dark

in broad daylight
these beautiful monsters
blend seamlessly
into the crowd

© 2018 Jacqueline

We shouldn’t be shocked when government administrations do things that are reprehensible even in the name of God. When the handwriting is on the wall and we choose to close our eyes to the signs, we simply unleash wickedness in high places. When you vote, vote with your conscience. Search your heart for the truth.

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Cleaned Out…

Sad man

Mama said to him,
she’s not for you son,
loyalty is not in her bones.

Papa said to him, son,
she’s a good sight for sore eyes,
you’ve got taste my boy.

Well, mama was right.
She totally cleaned him out
and made his heart sore.

© 2018 Jacqueline

The Gatecrashers…

As I think of Kate Spade, my mind goes to this poem that I wrote which can be found in my poetry book Unbridled.’ You can read Unbridled for free. 

 

Image result for mental health images

The Gatecrashers

Uninvited, they arrive. I smell them from miles away.

Their radar zeros into the crowd, they steal in to join the happy gang.

Their presence disturbs and stifles, like thieves, they are up to no good.

Planting themselves on both sides like guards, the silent battle of my mind begins.

My other self, the invisible one vacates in a hurry to watch them from the other side

‘Do they know your secrets?’ depression asks in its know-it-all voice.

‘I bet you wouldn’t be the belle of the ball if they knew,’ loneliness opines.

Lips crack a smile, false laughter rings in the room,

intelligent conversation over glasses of wine;

breezy kisses blown into the air of cheek sides,

troubles forgotten maybe till tomorrow or less;

We do know how to throw great parties,

our mannequin faces caked in powder

I count minutes before it’s alright to escape;

With depression and loneliness dogging each step I take,

making such ruckus as we jostle out of the room.

© 2018 Jacqueline

Mental illness and depression is no respecter of persons and knows no boundaries. It is a silent killer and fast becoming an epidemic. An insidious illness that robs the sufferer of so much. We must stop the stigma. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We must keep talking and keep the channels of listening open. Please take care of yourself and each other.

#RIP Kate #How are you feeling? #It’s okay to ask for help

Mental Health Matters

Luscious…

Ladies it's no secret that relationships and courting really sucks these days. Lots of men don't feel that they have to put forward any effort in getting to know us anymore. Most of our relationshi...

The maiden became the moon
lusciously ripe and full
her orbs spilt out of their confines

dark skin shiny, inviting and captivating

Intoxicating scents of the flower bushes
mingled with her fragrance of coconut and jasmine
filtering through the dark waves of night

causing him to pause at the mere sight

Bangles jingle as she dances bare feet
on the dewy grass of the valley
exultant and at ease with herself

undulating hips moved to her rhythm

Waist beads nestled low flashed with every step
the stirring in his loins as impure as his thoughts
and to have her as his own

perhaps, the greatest desire of his life.

©

Jacqueline

#blackisbeautiful, #thismelanin, #darkandproud, #celebratingblackness, #blackityblack, #waistbeads, #sensual, #Africanromance

Empty and Hollow…Streams of Consciousness Saturday

His words sound hollow,
filled with empty promises
that he never meant to fulfil.

Her eye’s look empty,
they have no life in them
life has beaten her hollow.

They make quite a couple,
she holds on to his empty words,
he digs extra holes in her hollow state.

This poem sprang to mind once I saw Linda’s prompt for today ’empty/hollow.’ It stole through the quagmire of thoughts battling for position in my head. Maybe this is a mirror of how I feel lately, empty and hollowed out? I can’t even make precise sense of this poem ‘cos most times my poem has a story behind it.

Have a good weekend peeps.

Jacqueline

 

Forest of Possibilities…

art-ball-ball-shaped, bubble

You were afraid
to live your dreams,
and you buried them
in the place you believed
they would be safe;
now everyone who goes by
sees a forest of possibilities.

#Buried dreams

Forest – The Daily Post

©

Jacqueline

This piece is an excerpt from my upcoming 3rd Poetry book.

You can read my 2nd book, Unbridled on Kindle Unlimited for free.

Amazon
Kindle

Where Do My Prayers Go?

Prayers, Poetry

 

My prayers,
you are stuck on the ceiling board.
I look up, intently at the white rectangles
eyeing the invisible patterns of my earnest supplications;
that never quite made it past my rooftop.

My prayers,
why are you not getting past the ceiling board?
Is it because in the midst of saying it
I was thinking what sauce I must make for the day
would meatballs or fried chicken
appeal more to my hungry fold?

My prayers,
why do you fail to soar
could it be that the landlords brick and mortar
are far too hard and impenetrable?
I must have a word with him
‘cos he needs to use heaven proof material.

My prayers,
once you leave the space in my heart
do you roam the void trying to fill the vacuum
or do you travel faster than the light of speed
heaven bound where Angels receive you
then file you away in ‘to do files’?

My prayers,
I have no idea where you go
no do I truly know where heaven is,
but what I know is that at some point in time
each word of prayer I ever offered
will be waiting there to meet with me.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha