Monday, 31 October 2011

Don't Go Far Off- Pablo Neruda

So I'm a bit late this morning but  i really want post something from this talented and highly acclaimed guy called Pablo Neruda. He is from South America, Chile I think. When he was alive he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature and is Number 2 in top 500 poets. What I love about his work is that its very passionate, if he loved you, in a poem that is, he loooooveeed you! Another thing is he wrote all his poems in green ink, which happens to be my favorite color. It was his color of hope

Don't Go Far Off

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --                                              
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Brown Eyes, Black Eyes.

Brown and Black eyes,
Spirits of dry inanimate souls,
Speak of retired hoes,
That dig no more,
Speak of dishonored bows,
That lost their arrows,
Speak of rings of fire blown,
Combusted flames of sorrow,
It is dark, no wait...It is no more.

Brown and Black eyes,
Visions of tomorrows landing,
Of a plane that never took off,
Visions of a peasants yield,
From a cow that was never milked,
Visions of prospect,
That we expect and infect
our minds with vision but...
It is dark, no wait...It is no more.

I creep into my mother's bed,
Lay where my father would lay,
he is dead...
So I place my head,
On that pillow where her tears would stain,
She opens her eyes,
Brown and Black eyes,
She wore her cloak,
That cloak you wear when you have brown and black eyes.

It is Africa,
Disease and Death is all you see
So we wear it for you to see,
Hunger and poverty is all you see,
So we wear it...
So you can feel pity and say,
"Poor Africa...Poor little dark continent,"
And our leaders laugh,
Your leaders laugh.

My mother...she said,
"My child, I have great pain,
But fear not, we will find bail,
Rest under my mane,
For your father is gone,
I am all alone,
If we have nothing, we have love,
It is a cycle,
And when you can find the point at which its circumference ends,
Then you will have known the limit of my love.

Kavosa Assava

Sunday, 30 October 2011

They Went Home- Maya Angelou

Good morning:) I think it would be nice to post work by famous poets. This poet in particular is someone I am obsessed with. I know it's a cliche to be into poetry and love Maya Angelou but I don't care:) I love how she touches on every aspect of being a woman including our sensuality. Even those who are highly conservative in culture can relate to her words.enjoy:)

They Went Home

They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But... They went home.

They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But... They went home.

My praises were on all men's lips,
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three.

Create Date
Saturday, June 18, 2005

God Is Love.

God is love,
I love you,
So if what i feel for you is God,
We cannot, 
We will not.

By principle,
It is simple,
I live to glorify,
So I will notify,

Just in case the message didn't get to you,
Let me teach you, 
Not please you,
Not satisfy you,
Let me elevate you.

I am on another level,
So level,
But then again,
I do not wish to surpass you,

It befits the purpose,
To act so pompous,
Like a bird spreading its tasseled feathers,
Tearing through the wind,
Only to be!

I only wish to teach you,
Not please you,
Not satisfy you,
Let me elevate you.

Make you see my Father,
The way I see my Father,
Desire my Father,
Without Him life only gets harder,
And you will only get madder,

So let me teach you,
Not please you,
Not satisfy you,
But elevate you my brother.

If when you look at me,
Bumps, humps and sex is all you see,
If raw, hot pores breathing lustful desires is all you see,
If songs of sinful wet scents is all you see,
If soft nakedness is all you see,

You and I, It cannot be,
You are not ready for me,
You are not ready...

Not ready to be welcomed into my station,
In ordinary fashion, 
You get a pen..a paper,
Take note,
This is your orientation.

One night...That night,
One bed...That bed,
We become One by That act,
One act,
But before my Father.

Let me make you see my Father,
The way  I see my Father,
Coz I Love you,
And God is Love,
So if what I feel for you is God,

We cannot,
We will not......
Not before my Father.

Kavosa Assava

Saturday, 29 October 2011

My Skin

Look at my Skin...
Skin that has been the bane of my existence since the day i was born
Born into a society where Jim Crow holds the law
predjudice is the boss
where being black is your loss
look at my skin..

See i don't remember...i don't remember the happy days
maybe coz my belly button hadn't healed yet,
and the stench of my mothers insides was my scent
and as it wore off, so did my solace
so did my hopes, my dreams, my peace
see i don't remember...

It is my skin that has been sold in chains
whipped insane
Scars that only tell a tale of pain
I am still a slave

I am in desperate search for freedom
My soul burns for freedom
my soul sings for freedom
I am still a slave

But it is my scars that make me strong
My bitterness that makes me weak
my pain that gives inspiration
my disillusionment that hinders my progression

So i shall bloom at dawn
when my seeds shall be sewn
planted in the soil as i await to be grown
and no matter what i shall not groan
It is my scars that make me strong

I am a rose
beautiful, delicate, passionate
I am a rose
don't mess with my thorns

Look at my skin black skin
Is'nt it beautiful....delicate
isn't it passionate

so come all you roses
join me all you beautiful roses
let us intertwine our thorns
and make a delicate garden
with the love we have for our skin
let us show the passion we have for freedom