my years of restless nights the pain i hide inside the smile i keep to camouflage with the scars, i nurture i relinquish to the universe to carry the burden so heavy. every single spark of hope i carry around that keeps me goin’, i relinquish to the moon and back and let the sunshine take away all my pain let the moonlight cast upon all my sorrows. i relinquish i surrender i’m done. and so maybe, just maybe if you give me a call i sure would surrender to love’s final call for i would not want anything but you. i surrender.
i never understood how i made it through all the ups and the downs all the gaps and the in-betweens all the chaos and the tribulations all the uncertainties and trials i never understood too why some women are lucky enough to have the chance i have the chance of a good life the chance to provide a voice for the muted ones the chance to live my dreams when some women out there are struggling to make a living yet i am very sure they have the same skills and talents as i am the same determination the same spirit the same courage the endurance the same resilience yet hiding in a shelter worrying how the future would be or if there would be a future at all so this is for each and every woman whose lives have been changed by abuse whose fates have been altered by violence whose resilience has been tested by fear and hopelessness and whose voices were silenced. this is for you. let me be your voice.
and though poets and writers alike praise you like a golden strobbed light magnificently beautiful, uncanny for most i despise you now for you made me lost.
there was a time when you were roses and butterflies when you turned the meadows into a magical realm in disguise i trust you no more for all the giddy magical feelings you bestow i like you no more for making my head spin for now.
and though artists and musicians alike anchored their pieces upon you; from sweet naive lyrics to passionate love songs; you are a blessing but a terrible heartache at the same time trust me, for no one is more inspired than a wounded or love – drunk artist but i’m just over you for now.
there was a time when you were rainbows and bursts of morning sunshine when you turned a terrifying thunderstorm into a calm soothing melodious raindrop i trust you no more for all the “weak of the knees” kind of feeling i like you no more for making me cry all night long.
P.S
I know that an Ode is traditionally a form of lyric poetry that is written in celebration, dedication, appreciation, or reflection of something; almost always written about a significant event, or someone or something that the poet admires.
you might notice mine is here not a celebration of love on its glorious ways and forms; but its okay to be a rebel poet sometimes ðŸ¤
somewhere in the nearby horizon are luminous white cotton candy clouds splendidly bedazzled by shimmering rays of sunlight where angels sing in unison hyms of unending melodies in honor of a glorious memory of a lovely soul who has gone by taken away so suddenly but will always be remembered a little heavenly body among the angels in heaven you are now, my sweet darling.
love is the elephant in the room when it comes to poetry. for why else would one be crying over a love that never was? a love that was never there? a love that never existed?
these and many more poets argued over and over ’bout how crazy one can be when in love, and yet they say it’s okay to love fully. it’s okay to love with all your heart. thus, it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, says the great Tennyson.
oh, dear, my dear, what love has done to us all? when you’re blue, they say love takes it away from you. but what if love makes you blue? who will take it away? they say when it’s impossible, love gives you the reason to move even the highest mountain. but what if love itself is impossible who will move the mountain for you?
love indeed is crazy, made easy by romantic poets who desire to make us fall head over heels over the idea of love; and for what? we run to them for comfort over a love that never was ours, to begin with.
love, just what exactly are you that makes people fall for you even when you said to have caused everyone’s agony and woe?
what if we never meet what if we didn’t fall in love what if I didn’t leave what if you didn’t let me go these and many more, i wonder ‘cos i am tired of playing pretend that i don’t miss the sound of your voice the feel of your touch against my body the tenderness of your lips when it touches mine these and many more i missed every moment of every day from the time you went away (or i went away) to this day how long has it been? i don’t know but i remember will i let the universe decide our future? will i allow the cards of my life take its rightful way to you? or will i be courageous enough this time to say “it’s you i am choosing?”
in silence, i wept for dreams, i postponed for narratives, i kept for emotions, i bottled up for forgetting my true self for pretending i am okay for believing in good amidst the presence of evil for all the nights, i pretended i was sleeping tightly for all the days i fooled everyone with my smile for all the memories i held on for letting you go for making you walk away for being young for being rebellious for being stupid for being dumb for all these years i wept in this graveyard of silence where bodies were laid to rest along with all that, they have wept in silence and in agony in their lifetime on earth
• Write an ekphrastic poem inspired by the photograph below, which Steven has shared with us. Ekphrasis is a rhetorical device in which one medium of art tries to relate to another medium by defining and describing its essence and form.
• Steven took this photograph in September ’21, and he has given us permission to use it.
i was a child of lies and compromises i was a child of disputes and pretenses they say i was doomed from the start broken before even i become whole.
i was a child of maybe’s and differences i was a child of what if’s and controversies they say i was a disaster in the making condemned even before born.
they say it made me stronger they say it made me braver but i was a child i don’t need to be strong i don’t need to be brave.
a child i was i need to have a playground i need to be in a safe haven the womb was not even my haven.
it didn’t matter though even if i didn’t have a playground even it i didn’t have a safe haven for true enough i am stonger, braver.
but if there is any a great woman that i am is gravely afraid of that is the completely abandoned and forsaken child version of me in need of a playground, in need of a safe haven.
damn! finding haven is the hardest scavenger hunt.
A single line prompt for this week by Reena:
“The only ghost that scares is a past version of you.”
mornings are bright i could wrap you with candied-coated embraces over sunshine kisses with a cup of half-emptied coffee while you are caressing my face gently in loving circling motion.
how long has it been?
i can’t tell but i remember.
This week, Mish over at d’Verse challenged us to compose a Quadrille poem using the word Wrap
This is my first submission to d’Verse after over a year i guess.
i thought i’m healed from all the wounds of my bruised days but today i was reminded that only scars heal; wounds don’t; they never will and you know what’s funny? you reminded me of them one by one, every pain, every trauma it takes one great love to ease down my brokenness sadly though, that same great love cuts the same wound deeper, more painful now i’m left waiting to heal my own again.
👉my 7th Poetry book, “It Ain’t Winning If Without You,” releasing 15th August, worldwide on all platforms and in all formats.
👉This is my response to A. J.’s prompt guidelines
michnavs 