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Jacob Mawela Poem
[Psalm of obsession]
Sleep with the remembrance of Death, and rise with the thought that you will not
live long. - Dwais El-Qarni
He huffs and puffs
impatiently,
anxious at seizing
a moment unknown
of mercy
He scavenges on me breath
in every nook
He fossicks after me soul
in every cranny - as
He pounds verily hard
on me footsteps and whilst
His nostrils unravel me
existence upon horizons dreary
[Time possesses nay reprieve]
His, ain't a pogue,
but a sledgehammer
trademarked of fatality.
Patience oughtn't be
His becoming, 'cause, either
He do or die ...
DEATH,
i've realized,
will have to do - for, if not,
none will be left to inject
mortality's folly upon me:
DEATH
rather
DIE
me.
He runs on a velocity
terrifying than the throbbing
of me heartbeat;
the pursuit
grows desperate every time.
He endorses that
i speculate of Him
a fore i taste Him.
lately,
D E A T H
stalks me shadow
as of a nocent marauder
devoid of mercy ...
irrespective!
Copyright © Jacob Mawela | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Mawela Poem
[A cuppa with mademoiselle Fana Tesfagiorgis]
I had just driven my ageless self into the Kaufmanns’ 1936–1939
Frank Lloyd Wright-constructed Pennsylvania getaway:Falling Water Mansion–
In a 1959 Harley Earl, Cadillac Eldorado Convertible, and in the company
Of 30-sumthin’ years young, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater dancer,
Fana Tesfagiorgis–a catch with a wow-factor!
Chivalrously having ushered her to a 1925–1927 Marcel Breuer Model No.B3 Wassily chair,
I put my feet up on a 1987 Frank O Gehry Little Beaver Armchair’s footrest opposite of her,
Whence, separating us – is situated a 1955–1956 Eero Saarinen Tulip table
Laden with a 1900–1903 Jan Eisenloeffel Brass Tea Service
Containing an already steaming brew complemented by a kaleidoscope of macaroons–
The combination, enticing, per scent!
As mademoiselle Tesfagiorgis takes an initial sip to her soft lips,
I sashay across the space towards a 1972 Jakob Jensen Beogram 4000 record player,
Whose turntable I immediately feed with a 1928 vinyl recording of Maurice Ravel’s Bolero.
The orchestral ballet composition commenced whirling wonderment as,
I re-joined the delectable lass around the table
Deeply absent in the ephemeral moment,
We take in the sight of the intriguing
Circa 1600 Rothschild Orpheus Cup occupying pride of place atop
A 1927 Eileen Gray E 1027 Side Table …
Feeling like Salvador Dali, I put my cup down and stretch out a hand
In invitation towards Miss Fana – somehow awed by the craftsmanship on display!
Reciprocating on impulse,
I graciously lead the belle, resplendent in a flowing Elsa Schiaparelli number,
Towards one of the mansion’s walls where I introduce her
To a poser in the form of Bridget Riley’s 1961 Movement in Squares –
Prompting us twain to figure out the intrigue afore us,
For what seemed like a lifetime - before weaning our beings off its trance!
Reciting Langston Hughes sweet nuthin’s,
We deliriously pull a pas de deux to another eye-lolly –
Something down my alley:
Ansel Adams’ 1941 photograph, Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico
Whereupon we get lost in the gaze of a firmament so vivid –
It feels like we were situated within the image at le moment decisif
The photographer recorded it for posterity
Fana,
Now overwhelmed–
Sighed as she rested her head upon my bosom, and as
I wrapped an arm around her 36-24-36 figure,
Simultaneously as my bald pate caressed her Afro in a nodding gesture …
More than I need, less than she deserve–
What money can buy…?
Copyright © Jacob Mawela | Year Posted 2019
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Details |
Jacob Mawela Poem
Of an august-like, autumn day:
I kept on walking
Bespoke in dust-coated
Check jacket,
Check pants,
Polo-neck jersey ...
I rambled destinationless:
A la les sapeur -
The gods,
The directors,
Were focusing on me -
Me the starring only
As
I kept on walking
In all my sartorial glory, consciously
Deadened unto all else about ...
And
Some distant, imaginary
Hellene god of Love
Purported tho lead me
To whence
I would enter the company
Of a true-heart
I kept on walking
Visualizing that tantalizing landmark;
That utopia of serenity
Whilst abstaining fellow man
And his hubbuboo from
My sphere of alacrity:
The boundless mass of water ...
Drowning, faint, frolicsome noises ...
And
The Hellene god of Love
Led me to where
I would enter the company
Of a true-heart
I kept on walking
Meditating on she
Whose only ever chemistric wait was for me.
A lump formed in my throat,
My eyes sparkled in the violent breeze
Whilst the kitting yellow leaves
Harmonized with a hue
My mind fell in Love with -
Yet Love unlike which
Awaited my acquisition ...
And
The Hellene god of Love
Led me to where
I would enter the company
Of a true-heart
I kept on walking
Unpermitted of terrestriality
To reach my destination of joy -
For, 'twas only visions,
Only illusions of that landmark
Splattered across my imagination:
A mirage
Which couldn't be transformed into reality ...
And
The Hellene god of Love
Purported to be leading me
Unto whence
I would enter the company
Of a true-heart
I kept on walking
Dear me -
And sadness swelled from within;
My heart bled and a tear
I did shed - seeing as
I were nostalgic of availing
Myself unto my inamorata ...
And
Still, inspiration urged
Me on ...
I kept on walking
Thriving on a destination
Not reachable ...
And
The Hellenic god
Had exaggerated terms
Unto a lone-hearted mortal!
Copyright © Jacob Mawela | Year Posted 2019
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