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Best Poems Written by Deborah Dambani

Below are the all-time best Deborah Dambani poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Modern Day Slavery

My heart raged like a black sea over shore;
 then anchored he in the depths of an unsure land,
a bleak morrow trickling from the neck of an hour-glass
unto the bottom of a slave - ship. 

I breathe in the stench of whipped pride,
at sun set beyond the Atlantic, 
as breeze of pines and autumn birches
 flog nostril hairs; and stiffened gazes,
trod the white screens day and night

Details | Deborah Dambani Poem

Paint Me

paint me a face,
paint me one so blue that I can barely laugh or coo,
paint me till the colour of my skin no more exist,
but all you see is the gloom, 
 peering in sympathy through my window panes.

paint me my dear,
don't be shy, 
it's been long I took my time and listened to the cries,
and heard for myself what's been wailed on the streets, 
for it's been long indeed I sat and felt the pain of the weak,
as life has been one on the move and no time to feel.

paint me so I can hang on those walls
that discriminate your young,
and be a reflection of your strength and courage 

paint till the bristles of your brush prick my skin,
paint till your hands get weary, but your heart lightened
by the sharing of your grief,
paint me the colour of your grief,
so I can judge beyond the common colour of a skin.

paint me my love,
paint me with every shade of red,
from the colour of your blood to the colour of mine,
and our thumping hearts harmonise in warm kisses of the night,
eyes glowing bright in the dark till morning light,
like antelopes in a searing jungle.

paint me oh sister,
paint me the pain of the birth of your young,
a shade of joy and anguish.
paint me till I scream your voice in the colour of my strides,
as a  woman learning from a girl,
yearning to be free from the shackles of my teen.

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Rain Haiku

Rain  spherical drops...
Sink moist sand beneath small feet...
Cold resonates warmth.

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An Epic Story

AN EPIC STORY- FICTION 

In a chase, she rode far east at the sun's wake,
the wind daintily throwing her wig as the horse tread
into black fields in dawn's glare,
stained red with a colour of her days;
her thighs grew weary,
dangled like broken mahogany,
tugging pain into grey eyes,
as blood thickened over cold gash.

she stumbled off the horse at the sigh of a swooshing arrow,
aimed at her son but pierces her heart, 
drawing her last breath unto the
canvas of the morning sky; 
nursed to sleep by the earth
in the sight of her creator,
she died for one.

shrills...
Her young awakened at the fall
shrouded in a dark veil
 fastened around her back like a knapsack,
his wails jolted her breathless self, but to no avail 

the sun fell at the rise of an evil in the west
a mother's love put to a fatal test,
a death or a death,
but her son liveth
saved by her last breath.

For she had climbed down a window a night before,
facing a street hazy with smoke
and red with blood and fire, 
but with the wound on her limb festering
from a cut in the moment of her flee
she couldn't get too far,
even on a horse's back,
but her son was safe,
only for a day 
longer than it would have been,
for the fields were no place for a new born.

Details | Deborah Dambani Poem

Dear You

Dear you,
 
the markings on my pink wall spelt us 
with a pierced heart in between;
11:30pm, a black ink painted 
across the letters a stroke
 at a time, until they turned into a smudge 
of hatred; regret; and lost love.

The pierced heart remained, 
but the arrow was never that of 
cupid, I realised it was
 a poisoned arrow all along, 
green venom dripped, jealousy, hatred 
for a her I believed existed in your dreams
while you laid beside me 
with your arms around my waist,
and eyes shut, you thought
 of her till she became
flesh and blood, the one 
who you named yours.

12am, I began to ponder
  what if she never did exist,
and she never took your midnight hours
 and your last name?,
streets in your head  I never did cross
cos you never had my hand in yours.


It's  a new day, but my thoughts are stale
'cos here I am asking if you still wanted
the heart to stay on the wall on display,
hidden behind my green curtains,
Only to be seen when I needed something 
to cry about, and When the breeze blew in
 swinging the curtains
 to dry the tear drops falling.
I’ll ask again, do you want the heart to stay?

the heart no longer beats, but silly me, it never did,
although there was once I felt it did,
the night I pressed my trumpet ears
 beneath your left breast,
it was magical,  the thumps called my name,
an electric wave of an EKG bouncing till it fell flat
the moment you cut our lines, and I couldn't reach you.

Dead!, it was, 
dead from the very start,
a mere marking never meant much
to you, because you weren't there when I made us 
into the markings, Immortalised on my pink wall,
and now you ain't here still, when it's all gone.

part of me knew you were a fantasy
in stormy clouds, but I still dreamed,
 and when that rain fell
veiling the sun that we had,
I knew it was time to let go
and free fall back to sleep
where the night mares were less,
and my bed was cold 
with just my heat.

It's time to go, 
it's time to let the smudge dry
with my tears of you this hour.

9am, I walk down the street
and say how do you do?
as though I never thought of you,
as though I was complete.

Details | Deborah Dambani Poem

Revenged

And this is who we are
Happy.
 you laugh ha!, and I pee to give you a pie, 
hopeful Hope 
my name, you say
with a belly so full 
And to ur friends 
 a friday night talk that never ends.
A girl in red that never says
 stop! To a dark  drunk ride of two years 
that runs her down.
To you
I’m just a dune
No matter how high,
You blow me away
In heated places.
But I rise
I rise, into the very eyes that gaze me down
I burn
I burn, like this heated dune
I’m not done yet
This is what you made me
But this Is who we really are
REVENGED

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Out of a Square Box

We  strive in a round world with square believes
A square sky seated on bridled outcast clouds 
Forced to hold round raindrops
 Released to soak square grounds that bear round seeds

 Round seeds burgeon at the labour of deformed clouds
But at the end of round days,
Out of round holes in square grounds
 deformity was brought forth

A cylindrical stem bearing 
on its head a diversity, 
Leaves and flowers not just square or round
But straight out of a square box.

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When I'M Alone

When I'm alone, 
 my head is  hot in the clouds 
like vapour;  thoughts 
condensing like showers
after hours of pause and stares; 
 beneath chin, cupped hand
 holding dream drops,
and in the other,
a quill  and an ink overhead,
soaking with ideas,
blank sheets, to lay
 a head on,
 'tis soggy with emotions,
beyond  misty eyes,
salted with bitter pasts


my sober 
moments of use,
diffuse into evening hour,
in slumber I'll be,
head on puffy pillows;
like clouds in a blue sky,
blue days, sour grapes,
floating images
 reminders of wavy past,
rippling to my now,
laid on a bed 
with only one beating heart
at my left
and no lover's embrace 
to make it right

Details | Deborah Dambani Poem

I'Ll Be Over You

JOURNAL OF THE DEPRESSED BITCH
CHAPTER 1 (I'll be over you)

How it really feels to be me.
On bad days which seem like everyday,
The blue pen slips between my fingers,
 rattles on the floor, off to bed I am, no linger.
 breeding emotions that feast on my mind,
one hate Leech, two love bugs 
and three years alone, but no longer.

as I lay on my bed and run through the games
 played by steroid hearts in chiseled packs,
I lay on my side and never look back 
or regret my past,
though bitter and iced 
with every thing not nice,
I choose to remain the same

 
tears roll from my eyes and
 I drown in their lies
of a stretched blue sky with 
a castle on pink clouds,
rainbow arcing a roof, touching our hearts.

baby, he'd say, just us two, but look out!,
 there's a fiery dragon of 
"you are not good enough"
I can't save you, so I'll wander off 
wit the us I got you,
I'll take it
along with your dreams 
of me and you.

There he went,
to be another's prince on my white horse,
shameless!, the heavens spit on you,
with meteors and unreturned loves.
 Black snow rain on you!
I yell from across the room
as the sound of banged door lull me to sleep.

then I dream of you, 
how badly I wanted every moment back,
replayed as drama, with you and I as leads,
 riding on horses' backs,
 but they despised me,
 shook their behinds across my mind, 
and wandered off, like they never teased me.
made me look like a moment pervert.
   
but I will wake,
shake till my head becomes straight,
I'll wash my face,
till those clouds fade away,
I will remember you
 and I'll learn to forget too,
it's easy to say,
but much more rewarding to do.
Babe! I'll be over you.

Details | Deborah Dambani Poem

Power of a Flower

The power of a flower
long ago a seed was planted at the shore of a sea of men,
the days were long before the sprout showed for the very first time,
it was a lovely leave bud on a tender stem, learning how to rise 
from the Earth it was once protected in;
as time crossed the sky in the shadow of the sun,
 Its stem became broader, and  roots became deeper,
acquiring much more than it once did before.

A gasp of nature,
what will it be?
a rose or a apple tree,
no one knows till 
Its flowers bloom
from buds as tiny 
as  speckles 

the power of a flower,
 frail but radiant, 
speaks of who you are,
reeasing a unique scent of personality .