I’ve heard people say; “Communication is key”
But I’ve had a hard time communicating.
Sometimes, it’s like white noise when I speak
People can barely understand.
The perplexed glare on their faces
Like “what is she going on about?”
Language! Language is key to communication
The ability to enthrall an audience with language so sophisticated it’s like getting intoxicated with fine wine.
Language! Language can be weapon
Able to control the mind of another
Then again, there’s Words! – The codes to cracking the power of language. The very fabric of society’s ability to communicate. But words aren’t always what they seem.
If I could be a word-smith
Maybe I could master the power of language and be the master communicator.
But then, along comes phonetics and its ability to twist the hearer’s perception of words
“Communication is key” they say!
But I’m left wondering; whatever happened to connection?
What if we could communicate without the delusion of words
What if I could connect with you without communication?
Now that would be the day I become a master communicator!
I haven’t written any poems in a while, cos I’ve been too busy being a working mum. 😦
I wrote this one for the little old lady down the road. For NancyLee
A smile in time
That’s what she gave
The little lady that’s more of an angel than a little lady
She’s everyone’s favorite
For like magic she captured me with her smile and almost quirky sense of humor
First impression wasn’t much to go by
But second impressions! Well that’s her specialty
She’ll wow your heart when you do meet her twice
Twice I say, cos no one really gets away with the best first impressions
Even then, a smile in time is what she gave me
It had been a lonesome week
Burdened with nothing but disappointments & uncertain anxieties
With a smile, she took most of it away
We never know what we could give
With a smile in time
Perhaps, just enough to save a life!
There’s never enough time
Time to be grateful
Time to say thank you
Or time to be appreciative
Perhaps it’s time to say sorry
Sorry I never took time to appreciate what I got
Time to say; sorry I forgot to meditate in the moment
Sorry I should have been thankful
There’s never enough time because time flies by
Or is it us who fly by?
Chasing after time, when time is right behind us
Looking back in time is always melancholic
There’s no room for us there anymore
And the future seems somewhat of a mysterious creature
Never showing it’s face in time to keep our fears at bay
But I’m grateful I’ve got this moment in time
To appreciate and say thank you.
I was seven when I first heard his story.
I still hear the voices of his people screaming and chanting “Free Mandela”
And the voice of a female singing “Winnie Mandela”
It was the story of hope in the face of persecution
Strength and Will in the face of oppression
A woman standing as a soldier beside her husband
Laying their lives for the lives of the weak
A humble man giving up everything for an idea he believed in.
The idea of freedom and equity
He was broken in body but not in spirit
His pain would draw the light back to a generation riddled with darkness
His tears would be between him and his GOD
But his sacrifice was for all men
The sages say; in every generation, there are 36 Tzadiks (righteous hearts) on the earth
Sent to justify mankind’s continued existence before GOD
I believe Mandiba was one of them
A light in a dark society
A beacon of hope for generations to come
A seed of yesterday for a new breed of humanity
He came, he saw, he conquered!
Heaven has gained its angel back
A Star’s been lit up in the galaxies
And men will tell his story over and over again
She asked me what’s in a poem
She wanted to know If the poems were true stories
I told her; a poem isn’t always fact
But it could be true
A poem simply uses the best words to express an emotion
Be it love, lust, pain, epiphany, anger or madness
The poet searches for the soul in words
And puts an unheard rhythmic melody only visible to the heart
A poem isn’t always for you, me, him, her or anyone
But a poem will speak to someone
She asked me again; what’s in a poem? And are the stories true?
I told her; A poem is a fairy tale come true.
A philosopher’s stone.
A prophet’s thought
A musician’s string
A poem is what you make of it
She asked for a third time; what’s in poem?
I told her; I don’t know
Cos when I wrote this poem, it wasn’t about you
It was about me
Maybe it’s luck
Maybe it’s blessings
Maybe it’s predestination
Maybe it’s hard work and tears
We’ll probably never know
What we do know is the beauty in that moment
Maybe it’s you
Maybe it’s me
Maybe it’s GOD
Maybe it’s our hearts
And the strength in our character
We’ll probably never know
What we do know is the beauty in that moment
That precious moment when our dreams come true
That precious pivotal moment which swings us towards our destiny
That precious moment when you say hello to what you’ve known all your life
Some of us get there a little quicker than others
Some are always close.
Every now and again, some barely make it.
And what we’ll be is never truly known
What we do know, is the beauty in that precious moment
I looked in her eyes and all I saw was gloom
The glow that once gave us all a smile and a reason to long for her voice is gone
All that’s left is the scars of time and years of struggle
I should feel pity
And I do feel pity for her
But the disdain I feel is stronger
I know I shouldn’t feel this much negativity towards anyone
I shouldn’t blame her for everything
But I don’t know how not to
All I see is her many weaknesses and her many failures
All I see is my constant struggle not to be like her
Her ignorance is outstanding it’s almost a crime
Her selflessness towards her own has become a danger to society
How can something so good be so bad at the same time?
She’s not the worst you’ll find but she’s certainly not the best either
And though she’s not bad at all, her mistakes did spawn little gremlins
Little gremlins who are really Little demons ticking away like time bombs waiting to explode
She can’t fix her errors
She doesn’t even know how
And I don’t even know how to help her
but somehow I feel like I’m sharing her load
She never knew what it meant to be selfless
Even then, I don’t think she ever really knew anything.
somehow I pray maybe I really don’t know her and I ought to stop being so judgmental.
Maybe I should let it go
But I really don’t know how
You ask me what she’s done that’s so bad and I’ll tell you
It’s not so much what she’s done but what she failed to do
And it’s not just what she’s failed to do but what she’s also done
Her failure is she used her child as a bargaining chip and robbed her child of a lifetime
Her weakness is she married a demon and unleashed a lifetime of pain on her child and never stopped to say “I’m sorry I let you go through so much pain”
Her weakness is she never knew how to raise a child so she let society do her job for her and we all know how kind society is not
Her failure is she’s self centered
And I’ve become overly critical, judgmental and bitter because I pay too much attention to her!
Even then, I still love her and her love is like a spell I can never break free off!
They say calm down
You’re too intense
He says sorry
We can’t be friends anymore
I ask why?
He says; cos you have way too much baggage
She says; you freak the hell out of me
I ask why?
She says; cos you’re weird
Once upon a time
They all wanted to be my friend
But that was many moons ago
I barely remember those days now
All I remember is the anger
Constantly being angry
Always overacting to everything
I’m not sure I know how I got here
Then I met him
He smiled at me and called me beautiful
I said; you don’t want me!
He said; why?
I said; because I’m damaged
I’ll love you way too hard
I’ll obsess over you & cling to you like my life depended on it
I’ll stalk you on every social network
Beg for a kiss with every chance I get
Make you the king of my heart
You will love the way I love you
Our love will be the best you’ll ever have
Then one day
You’ll do or say something that’ll make me cry
You’ll watch me easily forgive you
Because I can’t bare the thought of losing you
Then you’ll become nonchalant and easily offended
And hurt me over & over again
Suddenly I’ll scream and fight back for the first time
Suddenly you’ll think of me a psycho
Suddenly you’ll realize how damaged I was from the start
And It was just your love that saved me
Then I’ll let you into my dark side
You’ll see the father who wasn’t there
A mother who used me as a bargaining chip
The step-father who made me his punching bag
The men who held me down as a feeble teen and raped me
You’ll see my pain and ask
Who did this to you?
And I’ll say; it was you
Because you weren’t there
Because you never stood up for me
Because you weren’t my salvation
Damaged is what I am
Damaged is what I’ve become
And my sins are yours
Yours to repay
Goodbye my dear December
Last of the embers and my favorite member
Your yuletide I’ll be sure to remember
When autumn comes around with a bender
Say hi to November
October and September
Lost love and memories misremembered
From calendars ditched in attics and dustpans
Remember my December
That Santa makes you special
And good kids look to your return like Eastenders and Air Benders
But oh December my December
When you return next calendar
I’ll be here singing love songs
And mending hearts pumped with endorphins
So be sure to bring me more glad tidings
To make my heart merrier than bartenders with lavenders and high spenders
Thank you for all the many blessings