Zindzile V

Many a day and night I hoped – a lover forlorn

And my incessant passions dwelt for long

On the wind creations of fairy airs

As vivid as the brave imagination dares

And there I dwelt among silent groves

Whispering steaming words to a cold world

My hand clasps missing the fleeting doves

My fiery touch melting female figures of wax mold

Eventually did I burst out of this lonely dream  

And finally did I find my beautiful — my isle girl

O I want to sing and dance and whirl

Having tasted love I want to shout and scream

My Zindzile– it is more delightful to wait on a lover real

Than fading images without the lover’s feel

Of Jasmine and Orange Blossoms

The big pretty colorful flowers are for adoration

plucked at every stop by the enraptured lover

presented to young women – stuck in their hair

They spend their short days drunk in vase

Then pine and dropping petals swept off tables

My flowers are tiny , seldom catching the eye

unlike yours attract only loyal bugs and bees

the orange blossoms, tiny but bearing juicy fruit

bitter impregnable seeds spit out to grow back

the jasmine blossoms insignificant to wandering lover’s eye

But their sweet fragrance covers the valley entire

Stopping him on his tracks to resolve thus;

Let the rose pine and the women weep

I shan’t be parted from this mystic vale

On Hope: A sonnet.

Out from the dense death-deep dark space

Hope came to me with steady a pace:

Adorned with a halo like rings of Saturn,

Blowing on her conch she announced my turn,

Her parts were covered with the mother of pearl,

Her hair wild and fiery was in a perpetual whirl.

She held out a vile vase wound with lace,

With downcast eyes thrust it to my face,

In the vase nettles were chocking a rose.

Scratching my stinging skin from this vision I arose,

To find myself in a train’s tail end wagon,

My skin I peeled and the illusions were gone,

Out the window the train derailed – I held on.

Passing Storm

I went out into the woods

An expanse fresh air after rain

Sat on a stone under a pine tree

and pondered my wretched state

The soft winds wafted by

and I was drenched in teary showers

That awoke me from my pondered state

to unseat my chin from my palm.

Like the pining tree

Having been steadfast in the storm

Wept in the soft wind

After the storm is long gone

This too shall pass

On Laughter: A sonnet.

I am serving laughter

come now not after.

Whoever you are come sit around

these sensations and sound

that makes the heart rejoice

through the summoning of my voice.

Let me tell you of my joy and woes

I have nothing to lose.

And all of them sat at my feet

their shining eyes anticipation greet.

Thus I spoke and thus broke a chorus of laughter

so thunderous it shook the rafter

They left and I all alone sat weeping after.