Sat | Sep 26, 2020

Poems

Published:Sunday | July 19, 2020 | 12:24 AM

So this is love

So this is love,

I’ve never felt love like this so in love, sometimes

scary,

so real but now I’m sure, that this is the way true

love is suppose to feel,

I’ve never felt it so strong before,

that’s why it must be true and I’m so glad,

my sweet that I’ve committed my love to you.

The love my queen brings its inspiring,

so joyfully I’m feeling, you got me singing,

I’ve learnt love will make you happy,

But love can make you sad.

Love will bring us fulfilment,

love harmonize all the elements,

you’ll never know true love unless you surrender

yourself to it,

and with true love there’s only good benefits

So this is love,

I love the way this feels, true love is blessed so sweet,

so clean,

I love you stepheel,

Thank god, you’re my queen, just like the river,

springs and streams that flow straight to the sea,

I’m sure our love is destined to be, please,

come to me my sweet, my eye’s at first I saw you and

look into your beautiful eyes,

so mesmerizing I was, my emotions starts to rise,

provocative, so overwhelming, even right now, I’m

still hypnotize.

So this is love

I say again my little slice of heaven believe me your

heaven sent,

I’ve waited seven years before touching her,

believe me I tell no lies both of us every night,

our inspiring love light up the skies, over the years

we’ve had our ups and downs,

but my queen love is real,

I won’t be sleeping around, so I tell you girl,

please keep it real because us together must be

stronger than steel.

No one can break us,

so no one;

please don’t even try,

because with my queen stepheel,

I’m planning to spend the rest of my life.

So this is love, so this is love, so this is love

– Dwight Rohan Poole

Two inches of shade

I am standing on the brink of excavated anger,

my easy going soul has expired.

It is in akimbo, pouted lips, and fingers tapping on

the glass, awaiting my board on a nowhere trip

It sees its reflection, annoyed and tired,

standing in a position of uneven hips

I tremble, but not with fear or any chill

I tremble because I am tired of suppressing

the anger I feel.

My kindness has expanded,

much beyond its resources.

I am fair but what’s paid out

is a seat on a broken chair and a signature that

pledges a fealty to a reality of a suppressed mouth.

I listen to your arbitrary rules, your whipping

post – the mouth-piece of your clout.

“You must live to give,

but at a snail pace rate.”

“You must never be given a prize on any given date.”

This cannot be life,

Signed up to a never-ending fight

Getting your hands devotedly filthy with only

A cold plated dish of stale promises,

that change with the eclipse of

empathetic emotions sans apologises

A dull knife, on mildewed buttered bread

I would rather toil in the dirty soil,

with fifty pounds on my head,

for this price, cannot be paid,

and I am tired of running around,

taking the load while I groan,

getting soaked from your umbrella charade,

while I stand in the storm,

under your shackles and

two inches of shade.

– Angela Yap Chung

Lay low

Let the storm pass over your head,

And clear the path of burdensome woes.

Where old houses with rusted roofs need protection,

because nothing is meant to interfere with its mission.

And cannot be stopped until completion.

So lay low my child,

and make room for newness to emerge.

Where pains will be flattened and replaced,

by bursts of laughter like thunders rolling.

Parting heavy clouds to reveal the sunshine,

To dry that which has been rained on.

No matter the pelting you receive,

only time will tell what the passing of the storm will reveal.

But if you are patient enough you will see,

that the lesson comes long after the storm has raged.

So, remember always, my child, to lay low,

and let the storm pass over your head.

Stacey A. Palmer