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Best Poems Written by Danai Daisy

Below are the all-time best Danai Daisy poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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12
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The Blacker the Berry

THE BLACKER THE BERRY..

Misconception dims the path that leads her brown Clay
To shallow waters where she can never float like a butterfly but always stings like a bee
She is only good at germinating in dim waters like
Deep intellectual conversations
Always warrant entry into shallow society
Dictating that she could not have possibly been supple at first sight
She needed to be probed without pressing her buttons 
It’s her stellar personality that beams like a floodlight in flood times 
When it’s raining men but she can’t compete with the yellow flame
So she has to keep her battery charged 
When she guides the men easily beguiled by the sparkling light
That has them having need for a yellow bone to chew even when they lack the appetite for it.
“Between us men, it is better than that organic fruit diet
The plate is too blackened by her sunned pigment”
The blacker the berry the sweeter her juice in private
While in public the males ride shot gun on the yellow ferry
It’s the societal Olympics where everybody needs to have the same shade trophy,
She the blacker berry watching from the sidelines while fixing her paint
A by-product of lightening products has her gaining first sight attraction
Because now she can quite be the woman to wear on his arm like a cuff link
Arresting other suitors’ attention because now she dazzles at night 
And she can enjoy the benefits of her top coating
Even though deep within she is layered with insecurity.



***Written for all dark skinned beauties who feel less beautiful because of their shade of black

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2015



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Our Father

This is where my grief met Jeremiah's lamentations

OUR FATHER
As far as the east is from the west, that’s how far the Lord has removed our transgressions from us?
Why do I feel not far removed from my sins or the sins of others?
Suffocated by faults and indiscretions of human-ness that lacks discretion
Of fearlessness; the lack of intuition
Of childishness but a child born in the wrong time?
But God’s timing is always right?
Can you see this Lord?
Is heaven mastering this disaster only for our inferior minds to finally resurrect from the shambles?
And realise that You have been building us a new city all along.
I believe in the Author of fate so maybe that is where my hope springs from
Or from the crippling fear of the effects of reality
Disappointment
Shock
Is this how feeble we are as humans?
How our chromosomes, blood cells, alleles all created from dust can just wither away when one gust of wind comes before we can find shelter
How our intangible thoughts are invisible holograms that effect nothing 
Our father who art in heaven should we lose faith while we are on earth because there is plenty in heaven?
Will we make it the pearly gates with our infirm humanly wrongs and all the cavities punctured in our teeth
And speak to the guardians in low tones of how we praised the Creator on earth forgetting to mention how our own faults in the sweetened land He placed us in; have led us to corroded incisors
We consume more sweetened sin than soured heaven.
I cannot stare at my reflection in the mirror because I feel like a ghost
And legend has it that once the undead return they leave no shadow
They simply exist among other human humans
Who put status updates on their whatsapps saying ‘be still and know that I am God?’
It is easy to be transfixed in the same position when the walls around you are not caving in
I feel I have been saying much without saying anything,
Because maybe this conversation should just be between me and Him
But I do not know what to say to Him
My human human-ness has failed me once again
So maybe He could just look into my laden heart, desperate thoughts and fearful mind
And decide where I can go from here
Where they can go from here
Where we can go from here...
For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever and ever
Amen.

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2014

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The Cliche Subject Matter

THE CLICHE SUBJECT MATTER
I tried to study you best way I could without weighing my infatuation
And before I knew it I was knee deep in a classless obsession
I added you to my thinking pattern, all your small numbers multiplying themselves
In my head I became a slave to your division of focus between what was good for me and how I could attain you
 The proportions were irregular but I was headstrong in my resolve to solve your equation
Needless to say something in me was subtracted,
The square route always led me to dense integers that refused a fraction of my attention
I tried to cover the radius of your focus the few times you put your hands on my body
Never realising that this was the height of our union
I ignored the endless Venn diagrams that showed how our worlds could never collide
But baby I was not ready to give up on our numbers

So I found myself looking at our history trying to understand how our beginning was the end
I stumbled upon your communist heart that refused to be owned by me
You told me “baby I belong to the world and cannot deprive the world of my existence”
In my bid to find favour in your eyes I set up camp in your world
Ready to share stolen moments with you, I starved my greedy unsighted heart of affection
At least I was a blimp in the map that led to your mind’s eye
Somebody should have told me that your socialism was hypocrisy, that it was all a ploy
That you were a collector of pure hearts
You with your selfish capitalist mind that knows only to acquire
You identified my need and you created the market for all desperate souls in need of your presence.
Honey is there a compromise, is there a coalition of thoughts to govern our hearts
Is there a chance that if I hold you captive it will be a perfect coup?
That the monarchy of your conceited needs will finally vacate your throne
And I will unclog your tyrannical system; 
That my curves can control more than how hard your manhood rulesWill I one day get the chance to revolutionise your mind? 

Because I’m too exhausted to continue with this little science experiment 
You have been the catalyst so long you don’t know how to be on the other side of the equation
I want to be the acid to your baseless deflection from a relationship with me
So darling why won’t you make me the ventricle to every message from your atrium; a song of our love for one another,
I want to be the loud base clef to your symphony every time our hearts tremble,
With every moment we play the staccato we fill the phases of comfortable silence with our steady breathes
Can you not see the temporary psychotic state you’ve left in me?
Like Beethoven deaf to our music, our straight line on the EKG
Our happily never after, to a story that does not even belong to us
Because if I had any form of control baby we we we like a high school platitude
I would rearrange the alphabet and put ‘u’ and ‘I’ together
Teach you my language, my consonant sounds that make me ‘a’ ‘b’ when you seed me
Fertilise my being with your affection and love
Before I combust
Before I lose it
Before I give up and give in
To the random stutter that tells me that I should catch a hint!

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2015

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A Requiem and a Love

A REQUIEM AND A LOVE.

And I knew before I met him,
That he would be the only one for me
And it would become clear a little too late
That our love would only be a story for the ages

I had always imagined how it would feel to be made king in his fortress
To have a foot stool to climb on before I reach the pedestal created for me
By the way he moulded his words like they were meant to become new clay on my body,
How with each syllable he would make fishers of men
Going out to pursue his purpose
Gathering up masses for his works
Then leaving them feeling great and grateful

How tender I imagined his touch to be
Those long thin fingers creating a web around my mortal person,
Like I would be alive forever in his embrace
As if if I curled up slightly more towards his heart,
I would get swallowed by his enigmatic soul
And find myself lost in that labyrinth of a mind
Discovering what it would be like to know the world from a celestial and anointed view
With my legs crossed as if meditating all the wondrous horizons from which his intellect existed
The clefts from whence his whims found solitude and reasoning
And I would discover a new high
Which would make me soar into the clouds
Never returning to the mind set of this earth...

I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person
And missing out on all the opportunities life had to offer a man as magnificent as him
And in that way, I understood him
And I let him be
More than a figment of my imagination
Even though our first meeting was in death
And we would never nestle our love on a plane as imperfect as this earth
I let these thoughts linger,
And I loved him
And she loved him
And they loved him,
They will always love him.

Written for Clive Mashoko
Some words were taken from the letter by Jackie Kennedy to JFK
May his soul rest in eternal peace, and may he find shelter in the house of the Lord, forever. Amen.

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2015

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So Much Depends

SO MUCH DEPENDS...(Inspired by The Fault in Our Stars)

So much depends upon the girl with red current meandering from her woman
And the clots of clumped up thoughts that occasionally disturb her flow.
So much depends on the wisdom from her oval shaped head 
And the greyish-pink lips
How from her round belly an eruption of ‘woke’ perspectives
Has to leave others with a need to be introspective
“So much depends on this observer of the universe”
Her views hanging from the sides like ovaries
To provide boundaries
So she can never be too sinful, too deceitful, too proud
Too round, dark , round
Sinful;
Deceitful;
Unkind
So much depends on the girl in the African print caftan and a bandana on her short processed hair
Fearful of oblivion
Trembling before disappointment
Stake in back while she too wields one against another
Never too good, never too honest
Her only decency in her merciful lies
Her only fault is being faulted
And that is before she takes a good look in the mirror
So much depends on the girl with short manicured nails with transparent nail polish,
Pecking away at the keyboard while hoping tears will flow
Because all that’s at play within her is too inward
Relentlessly refusing to flow out
So much depends on her sockets to let out tears, the kind that fall naturally and heavily
So much depends on her other half
To explain the sudden outburst of betrayal, what is allegiance?
But she knows not to poke those demons
For they may wake up with renewed zeal
Close a chapter while your hands still work
Goodbye to that song that was the anthem in your special little earth,
Heaven is your only haven
Heaven is your only haven
If only you show your worth.
“So much depends on this observer of the universe.”

Written on 25/12/15 after a very long, beautiful and blessful (poetic licence anyone) day.

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2015



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I Am Still Walking To Your Heart - the Reply

I’M STILL WALKING TO YOUR HEART - THE REPLY

The faint sound of footsteps lightly plays in the back of my mind,
Like an old song being swallowed by the sound of the rain
I recall your mouth close to my ear sweetly whispering words that left me lightheaded
I felt like a soul drowning in the vibrations of loud music
inebriated by the feel, addicted to the high
Have you told me that I’m beautiful lately?
Do you not see how I hang on to your every syllable?
The way I coil into your tombstone of arms where I have laid my heart to rest.
I used to call you Egypt
How my Nile would flow just from your touch
Letting out a river of melodies only angels can hear,
You never felt like captivity; you my love were the Promised Land
And I...
I was love’s slave to your every command
Have you told me that I’m beautiful lately?
Or have I become the routine you would rather avoid,

A conversation too hollow to be anything more than formalities,
You still call me baby but I have never felt further away from your heart
I never pictured that this is how we would depart out of our wholeness
My heart pushed out with no harness
Just good morning baby(s)
Like a reflex you would rather do without
Have you told me that I’m beautiful lately?
Or you’re waiting for that precise moment when heart ache meets courage and I finally understand what it means to leave
And living my life without you feels like a myth again
Your morning messages become the beat to my heart again,
And once again
I remain, wandering in the murky waters of your heart...

I wrote this as a response to my dear friend's poem titled "I am still walking to your heart"

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2018

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Trust Thrust

There is no mental telepathy between this union;
Because I guess the lack fallopian tubes in that pot belly that never feeds
Cut the tunnel of our communication till the only ocean view we have of each ‘worlds 
is the sea men:
Testosterone, the test we are on where your manhood dangles while 
Responsibility passes you by.
As if it did not oil its muscles while she came in the form of pleasure
Not that there is much to measure because what quickly comes only knows how to 
go
Hiding in the folds of she who holds no cause
Inside her you spray your insidious seed and she screams bounty harvest
While flat on her back the only world she has ever known you've ripped apart
But then again you claim to be a healer;
Why then protect this world when you stealthily slipped in and diagnosed the cause
It is her naivety that is wrong with her
She should have practiced before she met perfect
She cannot claim that one thrust knows how to penetrate
Her morals are obviously too high-men cannot jump over that hurdle
Why then cry wolf when our trust merely thrust itself in and out?
Besides months have passed by since the last medical visit
So January’s coming cannot be the effect of my healing
One appointment cannot give a curing of the womb
So I will take it to my tomb that this is not my miracle
So weep all you want Responsibility;
After the pull out there is no re-connection not even a recollection
One bite from your apple Eve can never be my salvation!

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2014

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Fountain : Liquor Bottle Shrines

FOUNTAIN : LIQUOR BOTTLE SHRINES...

Intoxicated and driven,
Staggering to a higher purpose where they buy their souls
Meeting with their Maker as they peak and overflow
Seeing all these empty faces file in and out in dance to the tune 
No need to protect the treasure if it stifles their zenith
In and out of bodies they seem to leave
No flow from the fountain from which they drink
Stagnant, waiting to satisfy their insatiable thirst
With unimaginable haste gulping from the core as if a first encounter with an 
oasis
Dripping down the contours of the mouth from the aggression
‘Drop off the gratitude before leaving the shrine’
The unholy water whispers after it quenches

Dressed in robes of fine cotton another traveler enters
With such poise and dominance that leaves the ground shaken
Unwrapping the cloth from the perfect curves 
Ready to take a sip and maybe indulge
Let loose and even contain some in the silver chalice
Slowly ...steady does it
Starting off with a lick then a slurp out of impulse
As if tasting the finest wine making sure not to miss a drop
For the water it is a forever ago once forgotten
The delicacy
Hand upon lips to wipe away the resistant drops
The evidence of true of the luxury that should have never been
The water forgets
Until he leaves a fine too hefty even for indulgence

Eyes blood shot and teary from the wind
With the force of a hurricane marching towards emancipation
There is a need to irrigate the death 
Ripples can be seen in the water while the typhoon swallows
It is an impact so strong that everything else is rendered inert
There is a spilling and maybe even a leaking
A time out should be called for the forces that are to repair
It is not a damage alien 
Maybe add some yeast and watch it ferment
Sprinkle perfume and delude the nostrils of the parched
A measure necessary for the uplifting of all spirits

Nickels and dimes left in the fountain as the swagger out with satisfaction
Maybe tomorrow will be a good day to experience the bliss
Yet again and then maybe again and again
 An ephemeral source that should be exploited
Expiration is imminent and thirst is persistent
Until they stumble upon another gift of the rain
They will drink
Till drink is no more...

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2014

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Woe Is She

WOE IS SHE
“Was ever woman in this humour wooed?
Was ever woman in this humour won?”
Is the theatre of the absurd the new market place for suitors?
Her the jester unbeknownst to her,
Juggling objects too far from her reach as if by catching she herself will 
crumble.
Foolish her showing up on set with an open mind and an unmarked heart,
Hilarious wise cracker with her flimsy moves around the nutcracker;
Wobble on; duck duck she is still the goose.

“Was ever woman in this humour wooed?
Was ever woman in this humour won?”
Or the conduct presented she misread,
Too many teeth covering his smile should have been a sign of something 
more hidden
Perfected moves as the lights shine on his perfect pose
Her imperfect self feeling gratitude for being licked by the light shining on 
him,
Wobble on, duck duck she is still the goose.

Wobble on, duck duck she is still the goose
All birds in the same pond but the colours tell
Unique is no camouflage it remains a mark distinct
The final hurrah is here while the ducks curtsy
She in her dark humour wooed,
Remains backstage_

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2014

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Should They Be Saved

What is the consequence of the lack of a conscience?
To live without regret as if every choice is perfect 
Like we have the Rosetta stone already defining all ends
To kill the moral compass and take our own direction,
Calling ourselves masters of our own fate 
The sacrifices of self to our inner gods...
When is it reasonable to throw caution to the wind?
The wind that can cause hurricanes when we hurry as if we can
Escape all outcomes to these decisions we make
Under self duress without redress.

Can we judge those who do not believe in reproof?
Or speak to them in our condescending tones, as if we
Know better than the one who watches ‘morality’ from their pedestal.
How then can they see what you see?
He who is without sight can have insight but he without insight;
Can we put clay over their eyes and induce vision?
Or diagnose a cataract that has never blurred their seeing
Should they be saved?

Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2014

12

Book: Reflection on the Important Things