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randomwithlaone

literary fan t/a amateur writer on the loose

Half Moon

Half Moon
Breaker of casts,
Leader of the pride.

Half Moon
Rise from the west.
Where they said darkness lived,
Where they sent the Sun to sleep.

Half Moon
Holder of all moons,
Mother of Crescent and Gibbous Moon.
Drawer of Full Moon.

Half Moon
Rise from the west.
Where they had said nothing would ever come,
Where they said you would never come.

Half Moon
Queen of Scorpio.
Slay the dragon that is fear.

Half Moon
The stars sleep in your palm,
And rise only at your calling.

Half Moon
Holder of light,
Lead the night.

The things we hope(d) for

I carry your hopes in a bell jar
That lives on the east-facing window of my heart.

I pray for their growth,
And hope to see them bloom.

On a marble windowsill
Where we once whispered our dreams,
Waiting for the sunrise.

Morning dew kissed the leaves outside,
Tiny rainbows danced on each apex,
Alluring, you called it.

We locked gaze with the sun,
And bathed in Her splendor.

Unknowing,
That this was the dawn of our end.

Never enough words

Reading, is a true love. I always feel such grief when I come to the end of a book, and must vacate the space away from here and now that it invited me to, wrapped me up and swallowed me up with. Often times, I allow myself a brief moment to wallow, not just in the loss of beautiful fascination, but also the retiring of cheers awarded to characters, snide comments slashed across the neck a of villains, and the tragic end friendship so brief, deep and tender, wedged into 500 or so pages, margins justified and lines sufficiently spaced, but never enough words for loss. 

Waiting

I am sad for you,
Because you think
That is how this world’s hearts are built,
Desolate.

Always on eggshells,
One foot in, the other one out.
Careful eyes dart this way and that.

Always waiting,
For the other shoe to drop.

The day my President Threw Dust

IMG_0939
I am offended that people think holding a different opinion to the President is to attack him, and it is “unpatriotic”. Do we not understand that democracy, in the most basic of terms, is based on the freedom of opinion and expression? That a difference of opinion is not a declaration of war?
I agree that giving a woman a position of power that she has rightfully earned is an empowerment of women. I am appalled that ANYONE in this day and age, would also hold the opinion that said women must also be THANKFUL for said post, that it is ENOUGH to be the first female Speaker of Parliament, and she should not strive for more.
 
In all frankness, we must ask ourselves, would we have the same opinions if it were a man, having served as Speaker of Parliament, written a controversial book and publicly declared aspirations of leading the country. Would we then ask, “Why is he not GRATEFUL? Wasn’t it ENOUGH that he got to lead all these ministries, and serve in countless diplomatic missions?” Would we honestly say to our friends, “But why can’t he just go home, and lead a quiet existence, away from politics?”
 
What does Democracy truly mean to us? What does the Empowerment of Women mean to us? Do we have a truthful, honest understanding of Feminism? What about Gender Equality and Equity?

The Reluctant Writer

Sometimes, you see it coming.

Articles, nouns and adjectives group together, you hear the whispers.

A plan is afoot.

Verbs and adverbs commentate discreetly.

Sometimes, it is an urgent surprise in the night.
Thunderous assault on the windows of your eyes, jolting you out of sleep,

“You need to write it!”, says one voice.

“Fine! I’ll fetch a pen” says yours,

Reluctantly.

The Fall

Oh how they fell,

The mighty

From the slippery veils of Pretentious Hill

In thunderous thuds,

Buried in thick clouds of sunbaked dust

Mangled bodies

Littered the jagged foot of Pretentious Hill

Mutilated mouths, twisted ajar

Frozen in pantomime prayer to unforgiving gods

Rock plunged deep into skull

Split wide-open,

Overripe fruit in the sun

Rivers of blood,

Soaked the thirsty earth

Break away

Where does a blogger with writers block go when that writers block has taken over their life for over a year?

Firstly, may I preceded by saying,I’m cannot speak for all creative souls, we all see things in different ways, and draw our inspiration from many, varied sources.

That said, I feel I must explain my own recent absence from the blogosphere.

I often draw inspiration from intense emotion. Extreme happiness, or excitement work fine for me, but sadness works the best of all emotions. In the past year or so, I have allowed myself to slip into a place (at least emotionally), of complete and utter complacency. Uninspired to go either way, or truly invest myself in anything, or (even more sad) anyone. You know how Nicki Minaj says,”to live doesn’t mean you’re alive”?, well that was me. Living, but not alive.

I needed a break. A moment away from all the worries in my plate, away from friends, family. Away from worrying that I didn’t have time to get away, away from EVERYTHING.

This past weekend, I finally got my break, and I feel that excitement I used to wake up with returning, and with it, a stirring within me to write!

Forgetting to forget

I have yet to forget how your skin feels against my hand,

Or how your chest heaves when you pant with excitement.

 

I am yet to forget

how your wavy hair turns up around the edges

when it goes unkept for too long.

 

I am yet to forget because, I have never forgotten.

 

I have never forgotten how to love you

Nor have I forgotten

how our bodies fit perfectly into each other

The way you heart raced when our hands locked.

 

I have never forgotten to miss you

How your laugh sent my heart racing,

Or that smile you have when I think you’re sleeping,

but you know I’m watching you

 

I’ve never forgotten the confidence of your voice,

How estranged you are to doubt.

I miss that silly smile that you bargain with,

Such mischief!

 

I’ve never forgotten your touch,

Light

fingers dancing on my skin.

Exhilarating,

electrifying shivers dance down my spine.

 

I have not forgotten the rasp of your hair against my hand.

“Gosh, you’re hairy!” I’d say, “So are you” you’d reply,

We break out in laughter,

and I see that precious gap between your teeth.

 

I have not forgotten,

and every day away from you,

I don’t forget loving you.

ring finger

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