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Paul Lekene Poem
To Whom It May Concern
To the boy who took the wrong turn.
Narrow walls of past concerns,
The ropes of tight bends—
Knots, they stretch and breathe.
Too obvious, I lay in bed
With demise’s feet.
Imperfect—a shadow they cloned,
For the nature of man is less.
They kill for less, like dirt they cast offshore—
Ohh, out like the rest!
I prayed for thirst,
But chaos has made its nest.
To see the rest of self,
The lonely, my quest.
Hey, you! Yes, you who claim to know me well—
Where were you when the nights turned red?
To whom lovers dread,
A glare of an empty self,
In fear of a dreamer’s pen.
The distance in the void and self,
I search my soul for less—
For wealth in memories
I couldn't suppress.
Who am I? Yes, I—
That self that needs the yes
To save me from them.
We took a ride of pride,
Me with all my lies.
Like a knight, my fight and spark
Could stand the tide that rises.
That shows the image,
A world that shaped not brave—
A me with no you,
But guarded by the senses of view.
Could I be life’s muse?
I hope—
An image of me to you
Is the you that needed me,
But saw too few.
By P. Fualem
Copyright © Paul Lekene | Year Posted 2025
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Paul Lekene Poem
In its darkest dark, Light pitched its Bright,
When the light hit the tide.
I saw the flight, the sky, and grass—
With whom to guide.
To glow in the light, the dark came for a fight,
No gloves, just pride.
To whom Medals may have adorned,
Came the wealthy knight.
His sight sang to the night,
For THEY wore a war on might and light.
WHO WORE! Worn! I say,
For the price was branded in rage—
A date born with dearth.
For Mother Earth gave its wealth.
That Medal, stained in mud,
Textured in the depth of soil.
Such a race, the light wouldn't change its place.
Each rise to tame each face.
For the same space was set and blazed,
By the one who came to light in fright.
The lies of life to steal and hide.
In white, the Sun's plans were foiled.
The pitch was forked with torching and songs.
White, but dark in spite and taste.
A grave they gave, the earth of its birthplace.
With such hate, mud feared the tides.
Lost its gaze, for days to mate.
A male in pain, for the mud lost its name.
WHITE as it came, slayed, maimed in faith.
Hate was born in a space of rage.
Lost in faith, songs of fate.
As white as it came, it stayed in wait,
Lasting for days with age.
To nations, the light bore,
The sun would fear to indulge its friend.
In white he came, but stayed again.
By P.Fualem
Copyright © Paul Lekene | Year Posted 2025
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Paul Lekene Poem
But a linear crate,
You create your plate in days.
The seventh you lay,
For labor came to take its wage.
A circle, a grave we say—
Ohh, we are safe!
She lays in weight,
To maim and tame it seems.
Heavy to souls lost in hate,
Sorry, I meant to say in state.
Yes, the state of your mind in phases.
The clocks of ages,
Who linger like mages.
The moon,
Too glows but bold and slow.
Yes, slow,
For days with no faces.
Who finds themselves in strange,
But scary places?
To state my claim,
I lay waste the names they gave,
Biased on my faith.
Tunes unsure,
Far in future of stasis.
Some things lay in wait,
Measured in vain but valued too fame.
Distant, for that voice—
For humanity but a distant tone.
Truth be told,
For the man who knows
Is that soul in search of gold.
What do we know?
For man, for who is free?
But chained by the song that sings,
The ears that hid,
The calls of choice,
But a pond for life’s law came to leave.
By P.Fualem
Copyright © Paul Lekene | Year Posted 2025
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Paul Lekene Poem
My crooked heart
A tempest beat to a falling stride,
To whom may embark on this funny ride?
Bee nature's guide to see you rise—
So much beauty in plain sight.
What if it seems all but lies?
Yes, lies! For they are as crooked as the Maker’s ways.
Don't be fractured by nature's game.
Have you seen its ways?
So unlawful, it preys away.
Ohh, the ways of its gaze,
A globe so small in million ways.
Let me tell you about nature's gaze:
Tomorrow’s mirror lays in waste,
For guilty pleasure but a center stage.
Dance and celebrate—so naive, they came to play.
Let me hold you in place; don’t lose your faith.
Yes, you. For you are safe in grace.
I hope so. Hmm!
But you danced on its grave and thought it went unnoticed?
By P. Fualem
Copyright © Paul Lekene | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Paul Lekene Poem
My will to leave, my bliss,
For I searched for me.
I have seen me,
When no mirrors comfort it.
That voice, that plays with soul.
A place so cold,
But I hold to hope.
I’m tired of feeling so stiff,
My mind wanders like a thief who seeks.
Am I but a man lost indeed?
My childhood plagues my grief.
Wars within my thoughts,
My mind at a dance for its bride.
She lays her ways on me,
The choice I chose for me—
Mine or something far from me?
Who am I,
But a word from Thee?
Truth be told,
I know not me.
For my mind at war with Thee,
To find me in places so hollow like me.
Will I oppose the dance she offered me?
Voices so seductive,
But words too pale for me.
I have searched for me,
But the whole too dark to see.
If I could follow Thee,
But faith wouldn’t rescue me.
For was I made for Thee,
To see me as He/She pleases?
The choice I make,
Because fear lives within.
I prose a dinner with Thee,
Let me search for me.
For my being so crooked to see,
A place for peace to live.
For my road so narrow but real,
I can see me,
But crooked as Thee.
By P.Fualem
Copyright © Paul Lekene | Year Posted 2025
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