Long Dry out Poems
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The recorder clicks on.
What made you stay?
I didn’t stay.
I fastened.
I was made to fasten.
And if you're made to fasten,
you look for something moving.
Something strong enough
to take you somewhere.
You tell yourself: better to drown in motion
than dry out drifting.
Were you happy?
Is the leaf happy to believe the river chose it?
Is the river happy to carry so much brokenness?
Sometimes the wanting
drowns out the sound of splintering wood.
Did you know the hull was cracking?
No.
Or yes—
but only the way you know storms exist,
somewhere beyond your horizon.
You hear a creak,
you call it music.
You feel a lurch,
you call it loyalty.
If you could go back—
No.
No apology tour.
No redemption arc.
I made my choice—
it's permanent.
I just didn’t know I’d lashed myself
to something already sinking.
Didn’t know the waves
would only take us this far.
It's the sameness that gets you.
Is that why you speak in reflections now?
Maybe.
Maybe because reflections
are the only things that still move around me.
Or maybe because when you commit yourself
to something broken,
you stop dreaming about drift—
rebrand it as patience.
The recorder clicks off.
The ship lists, leaking into the tide.
The barnacle stays fastened—
stubborn, small, not asking.
She rides the current—
nothing left but to learn how to live with it.
Do not make love in me die
Humans exist because of love
It is from the Above
It is love from him and her
I need it to feel a real human
Never make love in me perish
For it nurtures my heart
Only true love begets affection
Fertilises both body and soul
Killing it destroys my emotion
Avoid causing love in me decease
Because real adoration does not lie
Lies are natural love exterminators
Accurate love also agonises lies
Love is a human’s pure virtue
Shun making love in me dry out
For fondness is man’s great tribute
That makes him stronger
For he wants to eschew lies
And so nurture eternal love
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Written: January 22, 2024
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I hear the wild cry as I sleep,
no roaming goats or gulls or sheep.
Tire them out, no trace of dread sweep,
seamless grass is combed by reap.
I heard the humpback cry whale site,
before the day turned into night.
Hunt for krill, girls, and young scouts fight,
boys, singing, as one, of raw dight.
Meadowlarks wave wings in the breeze,
hunt flies in the sun, fly with bees.
Breathe fresh air as lowly birds tease,
tweet, and perch on red tussock trees.
Meadow wrens chirp as streams dry out,
fly high to low till storms cross route.
I have a woman.
I’m proud to call her my wife.
Some give theirs’ nicknames, ‘her indoors’ and ‘the trouble and strife’
Now, I have my flaws and they are many and vast.
I think like a man, slowly and ‘at last’!
But my wife asks me to hang the washing out in the rain!
Her argument for using the balustrade and radiators to me seems pretty lame!
They dry out too quickly!
They dry out too fast!
So, while it’s overcast and drizzling the wind will still give them a blast!
Now, I have a chunter as I’m stood outside getting my bald head wet! She says that there’s sense in her logic though I can’t see it being approved by Spock from Star Trek!
If they get wet we can give them a spin! Then wait for some sunshine to hang them out again!
The weather app says it’s going to clear up - so that’s what you’ll do. Get out there in the drizzle and hang the washing out you fool.
My friend is sad and so am I
For different reasons I ask Him, ‘why?’
He looks at me neither bold nor blue.
A light glows pink in merry hue.
She called me up and poured her mind
I felt the same, of a different kind.
When spirit’s measure stretched at length
I woke up to find, I’ve lost all strength.
She has been trying to dry out her tears
While I here, myself was driving my fears.
No one to share my feelings drawn
I gathered strength to fill her morn.
With laughter and light she retired to bed
I worked the night, was awake instead.
Today it was told it’s not required
I had my share of the pain I shared.
Then reasoned out ‘was it all meant
To surrender my wisdom or my strength?’.
He looked at me and waited long-------
Till I blew my breath of scorn
Was that how You cleaned my eyes?
Was it healthy for the spirit to rise?
My friend’s laughter at the end of the call
Made me realize once and for all
My hard work somewhere has paid me well
I have reasons for love to dwell.
Love for Him came naturally, through,
I looked at Him and felt so blue-----
He could have gone but He never did.
He had to show me my greatest need.
I hear Albert Einstein's eyeballs
Are packed away in a lock box
Somewhere in New York City
Under golden key and lock
I can't help but wonder
About what it is he sees
Stuffed in that darkened rectangular box
For all of eternity
Do they pull them out and dust them off
Every now and then
Let them look around without a sound
A wink without a grin
Are they kept inside a pickle jar
Or do they roll around freely
These are a few of the questions
That keep confounding me
Do they MC square as they sit there and stare
Do they soak them in Visine
They must dry out rather quickly
With no way to possibly blink
Why would they save Albert's eyeballs
What could they possibly find
Unless they just love the color
Of the brown tint in his eyes
I heard today that they have Albert Einstein's eyeballs in a lock box somewhere in NYC. no idea if its true but it makes for one crazy poem!
First, they sent the dogs
And it became a dog’s toilet,
So, we moved to more remote areas.
Then they burnt the restaurant
So, we carried our own water and fruit
To the fringes of the liveable sands.
So as not to dry out like desert dates
We became slimmer and saved money.
Then they closed the parking lot
So, we walked miles on foot
We got fitter and saw more of nature.
What we saw became more beautiful
With each countering passage
For those of us who persevered.
Now there is hardly a soul left,
But those who are, are strong and fit.
Dune flowers are blooming again
Without the constant threat of trampling feet
And everywhere you can hear the rhythm of the sea,
White waves breaking and reforming refrains
Without the cries and shrieks of spoiled children
Or the barking of undisciplined domestic beasts.
We felt how beautiful everything is
Sub-human, man absent from God’s creation.
And even his attempts of countering and ruin
Were turned into creative and regenerative forces
Within us now greater love’s awareness courses.
It takes a long time for a tree to die.
Though its trunk be almost severed with the axe.
There was plenty of sap above
Then the leaves began to wither
and fall though it was spring time...
It takes a long time,to forget.
Not to remember
How to live.
First the tree stops growing.
It pauses,as if waiting for a message.
Then,as I said, the leaves turn brown.
It all takes time.Time to stop waiting
The leaves drop,then the smaller branches shrivel.
Humans also find that when ill, the hair may stop growing
And the finger nails.
We sacrifice the less important pieces of ourselves.
Even the most.
The small branches shrivel and dry out....
Yet the tree still looks alive.
Then gradually we notice it's drying out;
it's branches are parched and soon the trunk dries too.
It may split in places and insects make their home there.
It takes a long time before the trunk dies.
From the top down it dies.
The sap is too limited in quantity
To climb the trunk....
So the sap stays near the ground.
Eventually the whole tree seems dead
Yet in the roots there is still subterranean life.
The tree has died and is now brown and leaning a little sideways
No longer magnificent in display.
Time is all it needed
After the sharp cut...
And sometimes the roots are strong enough
To begin to send up new shoots
Another tree may grow..
I have seen that.
People ,of course ,die more quickly.
We have no roots.
And what of love,how does love die?
Like a tree,like a tree,like a tree.
Curse you! Oh! The river of time,
Why should you be so cruel
And embarrass your beautiful chime?
Why should you bring her carriage,
To ruin the song of love,
To ruin a beautiful marriage?
O' Princess of the stars,
Don't go so soon away,
What does this land lack,
So plenty in the distant stars far away?
The Mononoke may still be standing high,
Waiting for her next prey,
Let her sleep,
For she will be tired
Of all the standing.
Let us sing the song of love,
For it will be a sin to leave it unfinished.
O' Princess of the stars,
Let the river of nebula be born from your hands,
Where we shall sail in a land,
Where reality and dreams meet,
Let each colour touch me,
As they touch you,
Let your song echo through the galaxies
For eternity,
Let time become futile,
Let its river dry out,
Let us sail for eternity,
Let us be lost and be found again as stars,
Stars of eternal youth, with stories of love to tell.....
I stood near the soggy dim and grey window,
As I reminisced about today.
You in your beautiful denim
Looking disappointingly at me
Dissatisfied of the thing,
I always craved from thee.
You spat out the words
And they landed in my veins like venom.
A cold, sympathetic chill shuddered through my spine
My eyes stung
Like a fresh squeezed lemon.
I heaved a sigh as I settled onto the velvety sofa
Aware of the fact that I wasn't the one
But my heart started thundering
And I knew it was yet to come
Perhaps this venom will dry out the burning passion
Embedded deep inside of me
Perhaps I would be free
From this heartbreaking agony
My eyes softened as it arrived,
An itch in my throat which deeply thrived.
Someone, or something was clawing its way
The rainbow spilled into the day.
It was beautifully breathtaking Roses in flight.
Sparkles and glitter just blinding my sight,
All for a glimpse of your beautiful face
Lost in a dream, drifting away.
A whole universe
Where you loved me
Where you chose me
But I snapped back to reality
Out poured the petals, the stems, and the buds,
Lying lonely and lost in the cold, crimson floods.
But there was something unusual about it.
Covered in something dark, something black.
It wasn't as painful as before.
But the dull, heartache remained
Maybe your words eased the pain
Not in the way I expected.