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Best Poems Written by Choene Alley Semenya

Below are the all-time best Choene Alley Semenya poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

I Dreamt It All

I know that I shall meet a pretty someone
	Somewhere in the shops across the mall;
	Those that I date now I do not love at all,
	The lips that I kiss now I do it all for fun;
	My life is driven by dreams and fate,
	My love life is without honesty or sate,
	But no part of you could understand me well
	Or know what I feel or know where I dwell.
	Nor guilt, nor situation oblige me to lie,
	Nor predicaments, bade me to sigh,
	A lonesome soul bereft of delight –
	I, who sleeps alone, by the night;
	I dreamt it all: the woman, the date, and the day,
	The months to come will demise my solitude away
	Because all that I dreamt is all that I sought,
	There shall be no more cries nor any ugly thought.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

In Her Life

Of all the sorrows that so govern her generous heart,
	Her love is the most unfair thing breaks her apart;
	In her life everything is already signed and sealed –
	And she evermore solemnly griefs her soul appealed
	To cheat, to relinquish, or to commit suicide and die
	The death that shall liberate her of her perpetual cry.
	Has providence deserted her, so unkindly in all facets of life
	That she so feels old, unhappy and like a desperate housewife?
	For alone she weeps, breathless with melancholy; her pouring tears
	Desolate with bitterness, anger and incessant grief of discovered fears.
	Her heart is weak, her soul is weaker –her life is a scornful jest;
	No endless joy, or liberty of love	(a nice little girl by love depressed.)
	       ‘Tis hard to dissever when love & pity have been merged in dim,
	       When all that she wants is to love and to be fairly loved by him.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

The Night I Kissed Her Lips

The night I kissed her lips was last May;
			But the wind came and blew it all away:
			Again I kissed her lips and made her weep,
			But came the moon, and made my kiss her sleep.
			‘O what a man,’ she exclaimed, ‘that dost kiss me
			With a kiss so mortal it could immortalised be – 
			But I myself shall say: I sincerely love this man,
			And also his golden kiss, pleasant since it began;
			Yet so, for this my love shall be eternised –
			I shall solely love him, no trait compromised.’
			O this wench, if lips were slain I’d slain hers last,
			And nevermore shall I then kiss any lips or blast;
			I shall let my lips die from penance and pride  
			For those lips that I kissed, were the best I ever eyed.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

Trees

What is this spring if, laden with grief,
I have a wish to see trees coming into leaf

And their foliage nourishing, beginning afresh –
And being as soft as the touch of Zaldania’s flesh;

And their verdance gleaming in the sun,
Where children can hide and seek and have fun.

A wish to lie beneath the trees and watch the stars,
At night when breeze sways humbly the grass;

And the boughs of trees rustling in the cold,
Like something almost being told.

A wish to hear jovial birds chirping in trees during the day –
To relish their melodies and their vernal songs and be gay;

A wish to lo and behold with a smile, trees growing high,
Come new season, they seem to say with a beseeching sigh;

And wash away these shriveled leaves again,
So we can blossom new lease of grain –

And help recover the branches that were cut into wood,
By these people who reside in the neighbourhood; 

A wish to sit and watch the trees dance,
To fulfill my leisure whilst I enjoy their glance.

And sing a jolly song as I watch them shake,
Hence slumber in their shadow and tarry to wake;

Just like they once died and then began anew,
I also wish that if I die I come back too.

O dreadful this spring if, laden with grief,
I have a wish to see the trees coming into leaf.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

Gone With Love

Gone, and gone with love!
Up forlornly went my breath
Down my body sank, of death 
I but recall, in love with you intensely how I fell 
And evermore was I there while you were unwell
I broke jokes to you to keep you calm
And I took care of you when you broke your arm 
I waited for you to admit that you love me
And to assure me that we would soon together be
I waited for you to discard your pride and take part
But I doubted that your love resided in a confused heart
And so long I cared for you till my love did decay
As I loved you in vain till the sun came and took me away!
Pity when I was gone I learnt that you loved me too
And that it was belated of time that I then be with you
Because now I’m gone, and with true love I’m gone!

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

At University Res

For the lady who resides at 7th floor

I meditate as I close my eyes, so much of her glamorous face,
The loveliest aesthetic art that brings me joy and grace –
The definite hue of her skin, her small black eyes, her ethereally crafted lips;
If she were a waitress I’m confident her pocket would be flooding with tips.
O, beautiful is she, if I that may say; she is like a flower that never fades,
She’s transparent, like a lake – her teeth pure white, shiny as new knife blades.
I infer, she is adorable when she sleeps and at dawn when she does awake,
Her kindness and her pulchritude, they mesmerize me –yup it’s true, I don’t fake.
Yesterday I awed with every smile she had thrown at me every time that I’d talked,
But I grew even most in need and in love with her the minute she turned and walked –
And by my lips, I swear, if she offers me a chance to kiss,
If that happenstance ever presents itself I’d definitely not miss.
The truth is simple, she appeases me and I so ample wish she would be mine;
But she frightens me –nevertheless, soon I’d dare her out on a date to dine.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

When To the Eternity

When to the eternity of love embraced in heart
		With no particular sense of hate flickering past
		The eyes that saw those whom I admired depart,
		I evoke up the sorrowful memories I forgot at last;
		I smile to many a thought of what from them I learnt –
		And with old wounds and old woes now vanished,
		I sigh the sigh of relief in that I know what they meant:
		The impediments I endured proved love finished
		From the hearts that had no hesitation to lie
		For ill-advised and wrong doings at guilty sight,
		And so their sweet lips and beauty disfigured to my eye;
		Then can I love yet with sincere love, growing day & night, –
			The lady who loves me with love unencumbered,
			Whose lips are still pure, with no lies remembered.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

From the Unrequited Love

I’ll be there when you succumb to my love: to gloat; to see you weep;
I’ll catch your tears on the flow,
Yes, I’ll wipe off your cheeks below.
I’ll be with you and you’ll not have to see me limp or leap or creep.
I’ll be waiting for you to touch me; to smile: perchance to pout your lips and sigh –
I’ll hold your back if you fall,
Yes, I’ll lean you against the wall.
I’ll be very quick to steal your kiss and yet screamingly sharpish to hold you nigh.
I’ll be there to soothe you, I’ll even buy you a red rose;
I’ll harken to your heartbeat,
Yes, I’ll bring you elsething to eat .
I’ll be awaiting you to blush when I peruse you prose;
I’ll watch you relinquish and say: ‘Oh, you’ve won!’
Yes, I’ll hear you admit you love me, and that we’re on.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

The Principal and His Cable

The grumpy principal athwart the class
is walloping the learner ad infinitum
with his computer cable,
and screeching his lungs out
his wrath and his tranquilities;
he says she’s late for school yet again.

Madly she pulls across the desks;
pleads for pity in pigsty floors,
whilst he despite his heavy paunch
chases and corners her.

He whips and whips the weeping non-plussed
girl till the cable slips in his hand. Her tears are
like explosion of waterfall in her cheeks and her pain
still so fresh:

He picks it up and pursues the poor girl
who endeavours to escape from him. She
jumps and climbs atop the desks on her way
to the classroom door but quickly plummets to 
the floor to receiving another angry wallop.

As hard as he can he strikes the poor girl till his
hairless bald is dripping wet with sweat. The 
learner’s heart is a watershed of fear words
can’t even describe. His visage is sadistic and
turns into something I never liked or loved…

Well, it is over now and the poor girl is
sobbing sadly in the library,
Yet the principal plunges and slouches
over his circling chair in his office. His lips mumbling,
pooped out –In slight remorse of the cruel hiding 
he’d given the poor learner; and lugubriously he envisions
the twinge she’s had to bear, but it ain’t no use
for what’s done is done.

Details | Choene Alley Semenya Poem

William Shakespeare Is My Favourite Poet

William Shakespeare is my favourate poet!

	It does not need a thousand poems, dear, 
		to prove that William Shakespeare
	is a scintillating poet, nor does it require
		him to write so many sonnets or tire

	His ambidextrous pen and his gifted wrist
		writing romantic ballads with a twist
	in the end – his poems vivifies the air,
		especially when his poetry is about despair.
   
	William Shakespeare is my favourate poet of all days;
		I like how he writes, his styles and his ways;
	his poems written with words embellished,
		with his thoughts and his ideas dearly wished –

	His imagery is pure, his emotions are raw,
		a tale of poems that always make my day so braw;
	as fair enough twice the generosity of the sea,
		Sterling I say, to make him my favourate poet be;
 
	From how he wrote ‘Shall I compare thee. . .’
		To how he structured his poem ‘Soliloquy’,
	And won people’s hearts with ‘Let me not to the marriage of True minds’,
		When he said, I quote: ‘Which alters when alteration finds,

	Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no!’
		William Shakespeare, this poet was such a pro –
	He owed the world definitions of his words of charm,
		which always but so puzzled the mind though meant no harm.
  
	His antique English inspired and fascinated me to read his work,
	His sonnets, full of metaphors and similes that evermore but had his back –
	Tell you what, no poet can write close to how Shakespeare ever wrote,
	For the master of poetry ever lived and died, and vanished with a quote.

	That is, inter alia, why William Shakespeare is my favourate poet!