Nighttime

Aston kamunde

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It is

Silent

Delicious

Liquid splendor

Darkness ebb and flow

When she woke up today

She saw threads of sunshine

Slithering through bare-branches

Swore the sun was winking at her

But she knew it carried no promise

At least not for her

She was forgotten

And broken

The sun never gave her warmth

Instead it carried

Icy sly pry and whispers

Blamed it for her inner scars

The hating eyes

Carried sharp blades

Cutting right through her soul

And

Rendered her dull and useless

Nighttime called her dreams.

They were more alive

More vivid…

It colored the dawn

Loved soaking in the ocean

It softened her skin

Her heart felt

Soothed

Cooled

She waited impatiently

Darkness to settle in

Noises to dwindle

To draw her in

And out

She never had to feel small,

Nighttime was gentle

Calming

Teasing

Loving

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Deep Mysteries

This Moment

Aston kamunde

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Gnarls of brushing tall grasses and corpses of oak trees,
Reduced her anger but not so much,
Because she had a faintest glow of enthusiasm,
That made her to yearn for respect to her born dignity

The heightened and generous perspective,
Of the mysteries of the cold cold world,
Made her notice the key moment of her life,
The melodies of flowers flowing smoothly like music from an old recording

The pall of sorrows now seemed to weigh less on her shoulders,
For the voice of the heart is wise like a sailor of a thousand journeys,
That gave her an inexplicable exhilarating feeling,
That was just a sensation of floaty clouds

The cold winds were filled with briefs of thirst,
That inspired a smile on her sweetened face,
Unable to stifle her curiosity any longer,
She had a moment of tempest and of peace,
Alert to the stories carried…

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My first Blogging Anniversary!

My Third Blogging Anniversary!

Aston kamunde

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Last year, a day like today, I decided to explore the passion that had thrived in me since I was young. I was ecstatic to have a platform where I could share my passion of writing poetry with the world. It seemed as an adventure of some sort at the time. I did not know that my life was close to the beginning of glorious opportunities that came with that very decision.

Poetry to me is my silent way of voicing those words that that are past tenderness and have an immense humbling power. A pen and a paper have a way of healing the brokenness that normally defines human defect. Poetry gives me a delight and satisfaction that makes me feel alive, loved and relevant. Poetry is the best gift that life has presented to my life and I bath in the spotlight of my blog every day of…

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Worth

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Worth is that sickly anticipation

Of breathing through the night

Passing over deep shadows

Via semblance of truths

 

It is the urgency of escaping

From the haunted house

That rendered the once

Youthful and lovely

Old and veined

 

It is that sod ding intelligence

Of enjoying the serenity

Of the inner voice

Soft in its

Demands

 

Worth is nagging

Is disturbing

As doomsday

Is the danger

Of drowning

In spilled thoughts

 

It is freeing from

The clock of fear

And getting caught

In the strangeness

Of twists & turns

Delighting in

Their hurt

And joy

Needing

Feeling

Your Eyes

images

I am afraid

To look into your eyes

Eloquent in my language

They steal away my thoughts

How do I know they are honest?

Do they carry deep dark secrets?

I fear for the words that they hold

But I crave to hear them speak

And taste the sea of mystery

To lose myself once more

Free my burdened heart

Open the doorway

Of my liberty

Ineptness

Passion

Love

A Touch

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Unafraid of feeling unwanted or unloved

She was safely hidden in her cocoon

Loneliness had colored her beauty

It was warm and cold all at once

Sleepless nights were hushed

By the howling of her heart

Calling out until he came

A simple touch and kiss

She, a bright butterfly

Free, vivid and prized

The ticking of time

Altered his image

Into a ghost

Her heart

A fiasco

Gone

Dying Soul

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My soul was spilling thick angry blood

And just when I thought I was ending

The cold dead moon stirred vaguely

Murky clouds tearing apart hastily

Dark shadows approaching

The crow silent but ready

On still hollow trees

Dark silhouette

Embraced me

I was safe

Alive

A Fall

Aston kamunde

2

It is messy and rickety

Secret that saddens the heart

The wise also fall into thorns

A fall is every  fools’ a sanctuary

A fall is aching but shy

A friendly but frantic tumble

It is volatile, gnarled and old

The reason for frantic weeps and pleads

A fall forces one to smell the earth

In a curious but explosive melancholy

To the innocent soft mournful whisperings

Of the ground’s vermin’s sweat, storm and steam

A fall blows away wisps of clouds,

Bowing the faint strands of sunshine

Those carrying hints of overtaxed heart

Pain of a poisoned good reputation

Sifting lies from a bulk of truth

A fall can smoothen all thoughts

It is a gone moment before starting

The wise had spoken of the word before

Of a mirror that had never shown reflection

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I Know I want You

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I like when you are not easy

Also all the games you play

Your shy and tender smile,

That teases my soul and heart

All makes me want you now

Even if I don’t know you

Or even know what you are

But I know I want you

Because I want my magic

Are you my magic?

That I’ve sought all my life?

A motherland connection (collaboration)

Second Collaboration Poem

Real Free - Flowing Words

  • I’d like to dedicate my verse to the Somali and all African diaspora. 
  • This collaboration has been in the works since the end of last month. Due to timing constraints and busy schedules it had to be put to the side until both parties had completed their assignments.
  • This is my 2nd collaboration with Aston Kamunde @AstonKamunde on WordPress.

TheRhymeRula’s Verses

Within me there are direct connections to the motherland in my DNA,

An American born African man whose ancestors land was the grand stage for tribal wars,

A diaspora of natives escaping from the daily torment to new nations,

Not oblivious to the conditions my people have been and are living in for decades

That’s understood well and good,

So I beg the question, can we really stop violence from manifesting?

Don’t answer, because conflict like death is inevitable,

We’re endlessly digesting daily hate

Only to excrete death,

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