CAGED
Death knocked on my door
In what seemed like a wraith
I wailed in fear
Sought for grace in every place
Yet in my heart I knew
I was caged in what seemed like fate
The tunnels of life became dark and strange
I knelt down with a riddled heart
And pleaded to God not to let my soul weep in vast
While death stood at the glance of my flesh, in need of my soul
The sun sank in the woods nest
The days went to the West
The moon closed her eyes to rest
The sky stood in her chest
And the oceans traced the East
My heart dropped, and my face became a wreck
Yet still I stayed with recondite faith
In the range of God
Pleading for anew anfractuous life
Mbabazi Stellah
You twist and wind uphill,
Defeating common logic
That informs ordinary will,
Quashing layman's magic.
Your miles can't mundane
Tools measure with ease,
Nor trifling men's suremises
Feign to fathom with peace.
Anfractuous is your course
Along travail's painful main,
Past warmths of kith or kin,
Beyond love's kiss and pain.
Up this odd adventurous tor
Shall my days curl their way,
Charting eerie paths via war,
Whereon saints tearful tread.
I got my drivers license!!!!
Now, excitement lies an easy walk from boredom.
The second school ends, I reach for the keys,
like a seedling stalk turns to the sun.
I’m soaking in this new freedom with litmus thirst.
What a spell - “combine gravel and motors for miracles,”
I say, in my best crackly witches voice.
True, my mom keeps turning the music down,
someone has to chaperone - at first
- aren’t old people supposed to be hard of hearing?
I'm anfractuous in my approach to driving goals.
“What are you laughing at,” My mom asks.
“Nothing.” I answer, confused.
Was I laughing??
Half-baked smiles, conversations disarrayed, high in poetry, I guess I’m nineteen.
Half-filled maturity, occasional fits of naivety, I guess I’m nineteen.
Eyes frenzied, tears anfractuous, it’s too dry, the environs, where to look, where to?
Voices seem distant, no arc of light behind dark dreary, I guess I’m nineteen.
Scampering through days, slugging through moments, no sense of time, only of beauty;
I guess it’s too late to say, “I don’t want to be twenty”, now that I’m nineteen.
Age opens a lid, Dew, experience lifts, winds hurl it through light into darkness:
Past days of childish frolic, recreational pranks, gone free, I guess I’m nineteen.
-Pin Dew (30/04/2017)
sometimes the days are filled with the reverie
of things that never transpired
if only in the realms of imagination
the scenarios of full life experiences
reeled off in a neural bank
through the most anfractuous
of storylines
some play out like the sweetest fruit
while others seem to drift in the deep current
yes
the summer days of leisure
the eyelashes of an elephant
the joy of pure laughter
the first moment you talked with your ears
sometimes you need the nights filled with sleep
to regain the steeping thoughts of the day
and purify them into pool of drool on your pillow