poetry open mic is the shiznit.
Got inspired. Revisited Zimbabwe. What it's like to have a Christmas in the summer, hehe. Makes being in love a two-fer.
"Christmas In The Southern Hemisphere"
(for Beke)
Down here, where the moon hangs pregnant
at the Virgin's Bow...
i love you from afar; and yet so near
i cannot bear to be near you.
We dance together to tinny British pop music
beats like pounding summer rains
piped down the leech lines of the world...
From Europe to Africa, with the rest of
the First World's midden heaps;
washing us clean and new.
You touch me, and i swoon,
and hide it, knees buckling, knocking; ever-weakening
Because you believe we cannot be, even as a gift
even now; especially now, in this season, sanctified
by a god you fear.
Here it is the urgently pounding summer rains, kunaya
that herald the holiday season;
Filled with the musk of love,
and muggy with the scent of sweat,
(and the sex we are not having.)
i watch you, in your perfect jeans, sprayed on
by an Artist's hand, your bulky sweater
red with a faded Santa, bourgeoisie
(You eat rice for dinner here.)
Once i know i am in Love with you, Nyasha
a Revelation,
i cannot wait to rush home, into your arms
Catch you up, when you meet me at the door, in the pounding rain
fresh with cleansing adoration, and thundering
water like blood in my ears, my heart
doing the same
Sweep you up, swing you around;
nearly kiss you; but stop
at the last minute.
You, with your perfect legs, in that miniskirt
daring me; your perfect skin
tempting me; your glowing love,
warming me through...
Your chocolate eyes,
warn me off.
On the day in question, you give me a ring
and lay your head in my lap; i am filled
in this moment, with peace
So bowled over by forbidden Love, and almost-Belonging.
i wear it on my left hand, for half a decade;
Wear you, like the favourite shirt you gave me,
for longer.
Long past when your scent faded
from memory, and regrets into smiles;
i will never forget our Christmas, and your perfect gift;
the sure and certain Truth before only guessed-at
and the crystalline moment, rain and lamplit
gleaming perfect longing you have given to me.
Siyagbonga (Baby). Sha'a
"Christmas In The Southern Hemisphere"
(for Beke)
Down here, where the moon hangs pregnant
at the Virgin's Bow...
i love you from afar; and yet so near
i cannot bear to be near you.
We dance together to tinny British pop music
beats like pounding summer rains
piped down the leech lines of the world...
From Europe to Africa, with the rest of
the First World's midden heaps;
washing us clean and new.
You touch me, and i swoon,
and hide it, knees buckling, knocking; ever-weakening
Because you believe we cannot be, even as a gift
even now; especially now, in this season, sanctified
by a god you fear.
Here it is the urgently pounding summer rains, kunaya
that herald the holiday season;
Filled with the musk of love,
and muggy with the scent of sweat,
(and the sex we are not having.)
i watch you, in your perfect jeans, sprayed on
by an Artist's hand, your bulky sweater
red with a faded Santa, bourgeoisie
(You eat rice for dinner here.)
Once i know i am in Love with you, Nyasha
a Revelation,
i cannot wait to rush home, into your arms
Catch you up, when you meet me at the door, in the pounding rain
fresh with cleansing adoration, and thundering
water like blood in my ears, my heart
doing the same
Sweep you up, swing you around;
nearly kiss you; but stop
at the last minute.
You, with your perfect legs, in that miniskirt
daring me; your perfect skin
tempting me; your glowing love,
warming me through...
Your chocolate eyes,
warn me off.
On the day in question, you give me a ring
and lay your head in my lap; i am filled
in this moment, with peace
So bowled over by forbidden Love, and almost-Belonging.
i wear it on my left hand, for half a decade;
Wear you, like the favourite shirt you gave me,
for longer.
Long past when your scent faded
from memory, and regrets into smiles;
i will never forget our Christmas, and your perfect gift;
the sure and certain Truth before only guessed-at
and the crystalline moment, rain and lamplit
gleaming perfect longing you have given to me.
Siyagbonga (Baby). Sha'a