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Deborah Dambani Poem
My heart raged like a black sea over shore;
then anchored he in the depths of an unsure land,
a bleak morrow trickling from the neck of an hour-glass
unto the bottom of a slave - ship.
I breathe in the stench of whipped pride,
at sun set beyond the Atlantic,
as breeze of pines and autumn birches
flog nostril hairs; and stiffened gazes,
trod the white screens day and night
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2016
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Deborah Dambani Poem
paint me a face,
paint me one so blue that I can barely laugh or coo,
paint me till the colour of my skin no more exist,
but all you see is the gloom,
peering in sympathy through my window panes.
paint me my dear,
don't be shy,
it's been long I took my time and listened to the cries,
and heard for myself what's been wailed on the streets,
for it's been long indeed I sat and felt the pain of the weak,
as life has been one on the move and no time to feel.
paint me so I can hang on those walls
that discriminate your young,
and be a reflection of your strength and courage
paint till the bristles of your brush prick my skin,
paint till your hands get weary, but your heart lightened
by the sharing of your grief,
paint me the colour of your grief,
so I can judge beyond the common colour of a skin.
paint me my love,
paint me with every shade of red,
from the colour of your blood to the colour of mine,
and our thumping hearts harmonise in warm kisses of the night,
eyes glowing bright in the dark till morning light,
like antelopes in a searing jungle.
paint me oh sister,
paint me the pain of the birth of your young,
a shade of joy and anguish.
paint me till I scream your voice in the colour of my strides,
as a woman learning from a girl,
yearning to be free from the shackles of my teen.
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2017
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Deborah Dambani Poem
And this is who we are
Happy.
you laugh ha!, and I pee to give you a pie,
hopeful Hope
my name, you say
with a belly so full
And to ur friends
a friday night talk that never ends.
A girl in red that never says
stop! To a dark drunk ride of two years
that runs her down.
To you
I’m just a dune
No matter how high,
You blow me away
In heated places.
But I rise
I rise, into the very eyes that gaze me down
I burn
I burn, like this heated dune
I’m not done yet
This is what you made me
But this Is who we really are
REVENGED
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2016
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Deborah Dambani Poem
Rain spherical drops...
Sink moist sand beneath small feet...
Cold resonates warmth.
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2016
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Deborah Dambani Poem
AN EPIC STORY- FICTION
In a chase, she rode far east at the sun's wake,
the wind daintily throwing her wig as the horse tread
into black fields in dawn's glare,
stained red with a colour of her days;
her thighs grew weary,
dangled like broken mahogany,
tugging pain into grey eyes,
as blood thickened over cold gash.
she stumbled off the horse at the sigh of a swooshing arrow,
aimed at her son but pierces her heart,
drawing her last breath unto the
canvas of the morning sky;
nursed to sleep by the earth
in the sight of her creator,
she died for one.
shrills...
Her young awakened at the fall
shrouded in a dark veil
fastened around her back like a knapsack,
his wails jolted her breathless self, but to no avail
the sun fell at the rise of an evil in the west
a mother's love put to a fatal test,
a death or a death,
but her son liveth
saved by her last breath.
For she had climbed down a window a night before,
facing a street hazy with smoke
and red with blood and fire,
but with the wound on her limb festering
from a cut in the moment of her flee
she couldn't get too far,
even on a horse's back,
but her son was safe,
only for a day
longer than it would have been,
for the fields were no place for a new born.
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2017
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Deborah Dambani Poem
Dear you,
the markings on my pink wall spelt us
with a pierced heart in between;
11:30pm, a black ink painted
across the letters a stroke
at a time, until they turned into a smudge
of hatred; regret; and lost love.
The pierced heart remained,
but the arrow was never that of
cupid, I realised it was
a poisoned arrow all along,
green venom dripped, jealousy, hatred
for a her I believed existed in your dreams
while you laid beside me
with your arms around my waist,
and eyes shut, you thought
of her till she became
flesh and blood, the one
who you named yours.
12am, I began to ponder
what if she never did exist,
and she never took your midnight hours
and your last name?,
streets in your head I never did cross
cos you never had my hand in yours.
It's a new day, but my thoughts are stale
'cos here I am asking if you still wanted
the heart to stay on the wall on display,
hidden behind my green curtains,
Only to be seen when I needed something
to cry about, and When the breeze blew in
swinging the curtains
to dry the tear drops falling.
I’ll ask again, do you want the heart to stay?
the heart no longer beats, but silly me, it never did,
although there was once I felt it did,
the night I pressed my trumpet ears
beneath your left breast,
it was magical, the thumps called my name,
an electric wave of an EKG bouncing till it fell flat
the moment you cut our lines, and I couldn't reach you.
Dead!, it was,
dead from the very start,
a mere marking never meant much
to you, because you weren't there when I made us
into the markings, Immortalised on my pink wall,
and now you ain't here still, when it's all gone.
part of me knew you were a fantasy
in stormy clouds, but I still dreamed,
and when that rain fell
veiling the sun that we had,
I knew it was time to let go
and free fall back to sleep
where the night mares were less,
and my bed was cold
with just my heat.
It's time to go,
it's time to let the smudge dry
with my tears of you this hour.
9am, I walk down the street
and say how do you do?
as though I never thought of you,
as though I was complete.
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2017
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Deborah Dambani Poem
We strive in a round world with square believes
A square sky seated on bridled outcast clouds
Forced to hold round raindrops
Released to soak square grounds that bear round seeds
Round seeds burgeon at the labour of deformed clouds
But at the end of round days,
Out of round holes in square grounds
deformity was brought forth
A cylindrical stem bearing
on its head a diversity,
Leaves and flowers not just square or round
But straight out of a square box.
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2016
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Deborah Dambani Poem
When I'm alone,
my head is hot in the clouds
like vapour; thoughts
condensing like showers
after hours of pause and stares;
beneath chin, cupped hand
holding dream drops,
and in the other,
a quill and an ink overhead,
soaking with ideas,
blank sheets, to lay
a head on,
'tis soggy with emotions,
beyond misty eyes,
salted with bitter pasts
my sober
moments of use,
diffuse into evening hour,
in slumber I'll be,
head on puffy pillows;
like clouds in a blue sky,
blue days, sour grapes,
floating images
reminders of wavy past,
rippling to my now,
laid on a bed
with only one beating heart
at my left
and no lover's embrace
to make it right
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2017
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Deborah Dambani Poem
Hi, my friends are size twos , I’m a fourteen
I can’t fit into their shoes, not even if I squeeze in
I blow my brain out in work outs
Spend my nights far off from refrigerator lights
Stock my dessert deserted cabinets with greens and fibres
And to morning oats at break of dawn,I make a solemn oath
To replace smiley pancakes with fruit salads
And have birthday cake decorated with low fat icing , hazelnuts and disgusting bread fruits, yuck!.
Skimming my way to a size thirteen
Slimming my way into a perfect black dress
But, what the hell?
Life is like a burning candle
Before the darkness overwhelms,
I’ll sit right across that cooling box and pick for myself a midnight snack
Cheers to that!, with a bar of chocolate
Sweet sweet sweet
It’s me, the chubby girl at size fifteen.
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2016
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Deborah Dambani Poem
My eyes can see as
far as the shattered windows
can reflect, tick - tock
Copyright © Deborah Dambani | Year Posted 2017
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