A mind that flows like a journal .
Ideas that stretch as long as river canals.
The ambience is burdened and sinks once in a while.
The focus , undisturbed like the Blue lotus of the Nile.
At that moment with everything on its climax,
The surreptitious heart doesn't allow the body to relax.
With simple words to be said ,the throat is choked,
The sensitivity of the heart was poked.
Stuck on the same predicament with no solutions,
This problem exfoliates with the burning passions.
All passing shadows are the regular audience.
The night weighs the duration with an alarming presence.
Sleep feels like a futile exercise with a heavy chest,
All it takes is one word after the other to finally rest.
Are you scared that your words would be what they detest?
Fool, I think telling them is for the best,
Even if your role in their life is of a guest's.
What can you offer someone who has seen all?
I ponder.
I won’t flatter you with words,
for they’ll fail me.
Neither will I dare offer you anything,
For nothing you lack
I won’t make you grand promises,
for they’re all but spoken words.
But maybe,
maybe,
I’ll offer you my heart,
for you to feel how scorching
and pristine my desires are.
For that,
is real, I promise:
an immolating flame
that leaves nothing ruined.
A long psychology session
It's here he makes a confession
Reveals a long lingering obsession
His undies must be made out of hessian
Cold mirror frozen
Knows sorrowful sinful past
Wondering lost mind
A red ruby fire shine bright
Melting the reflective ice
Confession
When we confess our sins, our faithful God is merciful and just;
He washes every crimson stain from hearts that learn to trust.
His grace restores the broken soul, His love makes all things new,
For every humble and contrite heart, He promises to renew.
His mercy flows to all who come with honesty and prayer,
And every burden laid on Him is met with tender care.
Confession is the first sure step, but not the journey's end;
True repentance turns the feet where God alone can mend.
To leave behind the path of sin and choose His righteous way
Invites the light of Heaven's grace to guide us every day.
His mercy meets the willing heart that longs to be made whole,
As Christ transforms both life and mind and sanctifies the soul.
Let confession be more than words that rise and fade away;
Let it become a faithful walk of trusting and obeying each day.
As we surrender all to Christ, our lives are changed within,
His Holy Spirit gives us strength to conquer every sin.
Step by step we'll follow Him until faith becomes our sight,
Prepared to meet our coming King, and walk forever in His light.
[Afrikaans Poem with English Translation]
Ek onthou jou toe die spiese naby my was,
En die swaarde het uit my bloed gedrink.
Maar ek wou die swaarde soen,
Soos hulle gegrom het soos jou helder glimlag.
Ek is dronk van die rooiwyn van jou liefde,
So van so 'n dronkaard.
Moenie die hart vra oor die geheim van my hart nie,
Want liefde binne ons... kan nie met die tong uitgespreek word nie.
English Translation
I remember you when the spears were near me,
and the swords drank from my blood.
But I wanted to kiss the swords,
as they wave like your bright smile.
I am drunk on the red wine of your love,
so from such a drunkard.
Don't ask the heart about the secret of my love,
because love within us... cannot be expressed with the tongue.
* Dear PoetrySoup members. I wrote an Afrikaans poem and I understand that many of you do not understand the Afrikaans language and I wrote the English Translation of this poem. Enjoy reading my poem.
He came bearing
a polished memoir,
wrapped in the grammar of duty,
stitched carefully
with the threads of allegiance.
The pages marched proudly—
disciplined, measured,
dressed in the language
of statecraft and survival.
Yet beneath the polished sentences,
ghosts wandered barefoot.
The ashes still remembered
the names of children
history buried too quickly.
Mothers still carried
silence like broken calabashes
upon their heads.
And the rivers of the East—
they have not forgotten.
For memory is stubborn.
It sleeps lightly.
It wakes
at the sound of old justifications.
He spoke of unity,
of difficult choices,
of burdens carried
for the preservation of a nation.
But nations are not preserved
by eloquence alone.
Sometimes history kneels,
not for defense,
but for repentance.
And so the book arrived
like rain that touched the earth
without entering it.
For many sons and daughters
of the red soil,
it sounded less
like a full reckoning
and more
like a door left half-open—
an incomplete confession
standing quietly
before a wounded generation
still waiting
for language heavy enough
to carry sorrow.
At first, I was all hunger and knees,
a rumpled sleeve dragging through the leaves~
until the day I woke inside a rumor,
stitched myself into a silent room.
What a way to learn patience:
wrapped in the dark with only
the sound of my own heart
unspooling like old thread.
Then~
the metamorphosis, the slick emergence,
the trembling assembly of wings
still sticky with the glue of becoming.
Now I hover above my former life,
its slow, leaf-bound arithmetic,
and wonder: was it me
who chose the air,
or the air
that chose me?
I wear your handwriting
like a chain of snake bites
all around my hot, vulnerable body,
the poison is not wrong,
it is beauty to the bone,
tender on the flesh,
love in bleeding song,
I learned to stop fighting,
in the ecstacy of the smooth writhing,
Your unwavering dialect delved
into the core of me, relentlessly,
you taught me an erotic braile unveiled,
you've been naked in my blood stream
with a whispering scream,
revealing the soul of Poetry,
We have discovered the sweet
torture of destiny,
we feed one another ambrosia
not of mere flesh
but of desire fresh,
a passion born of purgatory hysteria,
I lick your lines
as if they are lifelines
to life with no sins,
you are my sex with no regrets,
you are my Angel through days complex,
Your fangs be flames
that nestle my heart beyond love crimes,
you are my joy,
You are my wicked divine Princess -
J.A.B.
I love the taste but just can’t eat
Don’t wanna tidy but like things neat
Enjoy a walk but have no desire
Thrive on the work but easily tire
I want to see but can’t discern
I’m pleased to be, but sad to learn
A million others feel the same
Burning flicker of the flame
It distorts and disrupts my nightly dreams
With little hope to what it means.
Here it is, my big confession,
I’m scared I might have a lil depression
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hold what you cannot~
the tremor of a laugh half-caught,
sunset’s blush on cheekbones,
the ghost of hands now gone.
I am both jail and shrine:
edges gilded, corners sharp,
a border you impose
on light that once was free.
You dust me, shift me,
hang me crooked, straighten me again~
as if my weight could anchor
what your heart has lost.
And when you pause,
trace the glass with fingertips,
you’re not remembering.
You’re asking the photo
to remember you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your breath—cold mist
against my neck, slow and sweet.
Midnight confesses
what daylight could never hold:
love, like stars, burns brightest unseen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your breath—cold mist
against my neck as you whisper
the truth I already knew.
Winter stars blink once,
pretending not to hear.
The cuts are clean
They will heal nicely
The wounds are bound up tightly
Cannot see nothing unsightly
Silver strands lay across the skin when seen
Sporadically laid across the legs
Can be passed off as rough play
True knew either way
If others knew
They never said
Probably too afraid to find us dead
With razor blades in hand or blood already shed
We didn't do it for the fear of dying
We did it because we were tired of lying
To ourselves about how we feel
Never properly taught how to deal
For the pain we felt inside
We were told to always hide
Made it seem like it was our fault
For never wanting to talk
When we were ready and mentally steady
We would come to find we would be dismissed
Stating it was part of the teenage bliss
Never truly knowing if we gained death kiss
My biggest weakness is my desire for obsession
My want to be fully engulfed in my aeipathy for another person
To give them all of me
And more, all I want to be
To gladly abandon any other potential
To blind myself
To neglect anything else that needs my attention
To forsake my goals and any progress I've made toward them
For the sake of being consumed by the feeling of being in love
To hold tight to someone long after they are gone.
To fixate on an idea
I do this to my detriment
I remain stagnant in a moment long past
And feel it still, as real as it once had been
My disposition to sacrifice the current moment is my undoing
I abandon the things that need tending to
I die to all future moments
I could easily live the rest of life as a court jester
Playing the role of Romeo on the stage of my own mind
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