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Best Poems Written by Terence Msuku

Below are the all-time best Terence Msuku poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Secret Lovers

Meet me at the park bench
So I can breathe in your fragrance
Meet at the park bench 
So my words can tickle you
Til your bosom shakes	
Til your belly aches
© 2015

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Natural Love

Natural love
Love cooked over a wood-fire
Smoky, smoked, well-preserved love
Well-worn love that fits just right
Like an old leather jacket
Love with wrinkles and smiling lines
Freckles and blackheads
Love with all kinds of kinks and twists
Love that writes love-letters in blue ink
Love so enduring it has callouses
Hard-working love
Love on vinyl, the gramophone kind
Love with no expiry date
No warranty required
Love that embraces the tedium of life
Slow-brewed love that numbs the aches and pains of life
(The elixir)
Love that flows from an infinite source
Natural love

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My Car

My Car
If my car had a mind of it's own
(Which I think it does sometimes)
It would honk its horn in horror
As the hoodlum disguised a mechanic
Attempted to open its hood
And visit ruthless abuse upon it
It would activate its alarm
Causing alarm and despondency
Its engine would roar menacingly and it
Would keep its hood firmly 'clenched'
Refusing to let this hoodlum lay
His dirty hands on it
Its lights would flash and its siren 
Would wail
Causing the mechanic to run off
In bewilderment unsure how to fix this 'problem'

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I Am Not a Whore

I am not my grammar

My English may be poor

But I am a straight talker, woman of my word

My speech conveys much meaning and wisdom

I do not mispronounce words, I put a St Lucian twist on them

I like to drink, dance and smoke

I love men but I am not a whore

Not your whore

Your woman friend perhaps

But I am no scarlet woman

I am not my grammar or lack thereof

English is a medium of communication

And I have no problems getting my message across

I have no shame coz my grand-parents raised me with dignity

I work hard and pay my way through life

I like to look good and take care of myself

But I am not my hair, my nails, my perfume

My grammar

And I am certainly not a whore

(not your whore)

There is more to me than meets the eye
 I am not a whore

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Conversation With My Body Parts

My hands asked me what a kiss was
And I told them that it was 
A sensual handshake done with the lips
© 2015

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I Owe It To You

I owe it to you
If I stand ten feet tall
On your platform of love
If I open my eyes wide when I see you
If I am always smiling bright
If I display Herculean strength
Never spent
If each day I rise
Jubilant, expectant, hopfeul
If all my fears and doubts 
Have been erased
If my heart Zumba dances
Yoga stretches, Pilates pulses
From your love's pasture
It has grazed
Filled with organic goodness
Many many are amazed
If I, once again, am filled
With youthful idealism
Self-belief bordering on arrogance
Walking  barefoot on Nike air
No callouses, no bruises
Moon-walking over life's obstacles
Waving at the haters with a gloved hand
My love for you knows no bounds
My heart is yours, you own it
Take the compliment poupée
You deserve it

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Poor Man's Prayer

Poor man's prayer
Lord, don't fix the hole in my sole
For the shoe can be replaced
I can walk a mile, tread softly on the sole
Avoid the puddles and pebbles
The thorns
Deftly reaching my destination
Lord, fill the hole in my soul
That life has dug deep, lord
Make me feel whole again
Let me steep in your love
Like a tea-bag, Lord
Lord, I know the hole in my belly,
In my shoe, in my clothes
Is only temporary
But the hole in my soul
Is taking it's toll, Lord
Fill it, Lord I pray

Details | Terence Msuku Poem

It It Were Possible

If it were possible
I would get on my bike
And ride away from my troubles
I would ride right past them
Waving at them gleefully
Taunting them and daring them to follow me
I would switch to a high gear
Lean forward and ride away from them
I would have no qualms about it
I wouldn’t spare them a single thought
I would just ride into a brighter future
If it were possible
I would live on a farm somewhere in Africa
From the earth I would get my sustenance
From the locals I would get wisdom
My mind would know a peace 
That was previously inconceivable
My body, through its newly-found agility, its glow
It’s Herculean strength would speak to a health
Physical, spiritual and mental
That would have modern-day health nuts going nuts
As they sought to get a piece of my Zen
If it were possible
© 2015

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Selfishness

Selfishness is a noose 
That you tie around your own neck
It is a key that locks doors 
That will never open again
It is a recipe for continual hunger
It is a road that leads to a dark
Lonely place from which one
Never returns
It is like a pot of water
On the stove that never boils
Selfishness bears no fruit
But it multiplies enmity

Details | Terence Msuku Poem

Africa

I am an African
She asked me what Africa was all about
I told her that there were cornfields
As far as the eye could see
There were rivers and gullies
Wild fruit growing on trees everywhere
People going about their business
Market squares, stores and such
Schools and churches
Roads that lead everywhere
I told her that there were souls
Treading on mother earth
Seeking their pound of flesh
Like everyone else
Rich souls, poor souls
Dirt poor souls 
And everything in between
She asked me if she’d live ‘good’ in Africa
I told her living ‘good’ was the result
Of hard work and sacrifice
So, if she worked hard, her cup would be full
She asked me to paint a picture of Africa
So she could visualize it
I put so many bright colours in the picture
I painted a bright yellow Sun that never set
I drew pictures of people 
Who smiled in spite of their hardships
People who held onto hope
When their lives seemed doomed
People who would share 
In spite of their penury
I described the sounds of Africa
The music, the natural African rhythm
That made the whole of Africa
Beat with one heart
On hearing this, she was awestruck
She is now an African