I cornered a fed-up knave
On the subject of The Treasures God gave,
Which Nature had fought to save
Between Open Hill and Concealed Cave
And he acidly began to rave
At the wrongs men crave
And at their will to ways pave
For those who cold lies microwave …
Broadly too did he rave
At killers who murders brave
And unwittingly selves enslave
To in that state walk into grave …
I could and should bless this Ex knave,
In every church service at the nave …
Who’d sermons in ears squandered save.
And as early dusk usually finds me wandering,
In a secret garden to relish my own private feast
Leaving our hearth... distanced from togetherness
Would you still love me?
Vagrant these moods, carefree then insolent
That gentle arms hesitate starlit’s touch--
An anger or desolation keeps us cold, apart
Would you still love me?
Amidst times of ordeal as resources dwindle
I test such manly pride with bitter transgressions,
Unable to listen with comfort , hissing acidly. Somehow,
Would you still love me?
Gray the tresses like moon’s silver wisps,
My body drooped from toil of ardour’s pledge
I shall but ask, in the blink of faintest nights---
Would you still love me?
-------------
12/20/2018
Edward Ibeh’s Contest: Would You Still Love Me
Where I grew
I felt a cert
that with hair so "ging-eh"
Touch would be revulsion.
So at pitch black 1
when they'd hassled me "You're late"
and the lift was blown off for bad behaviour.
The quick footsteps
grabs, snares, gropes, sniffs and stalks-
I walked alongside secure.
Would they dare touch a ging?
Not even in the narrow
scraps or runs
did I choose the safe option.
Poison of the tongues
that acidly tortured my days,
fell my safety to the night.
...and yet I thought I was a bad runner too,
but sufficient it seems.
So when there's a void,
perhaps it is your glaring eyes to blame,
as it was your lips who taught
the voices that shed the light
away from the bridges
of the estates.
...and spent my luck too early
The noise had been there for so long
It seemed as though it was life's song
A constant cacophony of insane rage
This psychopathic woman had the stage
Slowly, steadily her screech was muted
As her false claims were often disputed
Those acidly touched by her riotous insanity
Are no longer affected by her peculiar profanity