Tag Archives: poems about love

I too

I wonder if
maybe I like listening to lies
and that makes me a liar by association
because every time your lips open
teeth part
and meet
and part and meet
leaving room for untruths
to be spat out
I look at you delicately
almost proud of how good you’re getting
at making me want to believe you.

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2010

When he couldn’t love me
I crazed over his lips
and imagined how they’d feel against mine
I stole the honesty of a dream
and envisioned his arms consuming my frame.
then
I cried like my body was a cloud of fire
when the solitude showed me its skin.
This was my darkest point,
I lived,
And love was funny again.

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Some days it snows somewhere..

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I told myself that I would do away with writing silly love poems
 for boys who aren’t yet men,
I am writing more poems about you than necessary,
they are naked apologies
and granulated confessions
and all the grime and grit I let in.
these poems have slithered their way into the ink
of my pens
but
not even a nicely placed comma
can change me
not even a neatly dressed apology
can make me all that you’ve been looking for you
all you’re ready to love
but
You are a bad habit and I am a bad addict
We’re all kinds of wrong for each other
We are ash at the end of a cigarette
Not made to last
Made for the bottom of a shoe
Seconds fleeting
time slips under my thigh
the parasitic nature of first love
has me know that you’ll never leave the ink of my
pen
you’ll never leave the brim of my lips
and when you’re finally a man and you’ve learnt
to love back
my pens, my ink, my keys
and my lips will still write of that boy
that boy who tainted my poetry.

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..Arco Iris.

Your lisp,and the curls of your
fire-colored hair,
Your clear silver tears
Your violet reflection
Your milk-white complexion
Your purple sway of hips
and soul,
Your indigo-coated kisses
Your maroon moods
standing at windowpanes
Your blue waves of goodbye
Your yellow hellos.
It seems I coveted a rainbow.
A disarray of color.

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..SWC..

I touched his leaves and felt
time shiver in its shell.
If only I could have told him
about his beauty and how
the peak of his voice
makes my heart itch giddy.
That guns don’t heal wounds
or end rainstorms
stopping thunder in its tracks
they seal fates
and untie flesh from bone.

I wanted to tell I was sorry
that he sat in the back of
the class carving his story
so deep into his palms
I could hear his skin tear
and bleed bold magenta.

I meant to tell him that I’d
goten the same tattoo
“Invisible never once Invincible”
ink glazed over my sleeping
heart.
And that rivers cry as much
as skies do.

I wanted to say that I still
remember him
using each crayon in
the box to color
himself in loveable.
and how he knocked down
the doors in which he’d
hidden himself.

I wish I could have told
he that he was my hero
and that I found his number
twice and
still couldn’t bring myself
to call
because I’ve never worn
his cape,
the albatross dangling
down his back.

If only I’d told him he had
a friend the many times
his soul was broken and
pinned to his locker.
I wanted to say I know
about his peacock-blue bruises
and that he sheds joy
like last year’s skin.

I heard his lunch money
dance sambas in the
pockets of his demin jacket,
I heard the slight drag of
his left shoe from
that one time
he “fell”.
I heard them part
and wag their tongues
at him.
*
He was here
*
It was him.
*
His fingers dug
into his jeans
*
bullet
*
bullet
*
scream
scream
*
scarlet.

 

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…Crusts..

I should have fallen in love with music,
though it could never hold me
so close that our bodies merge
or kiss me,
but it could love me.
and my undecisive soul.
It could love me and my weather
and celebrate each time I turn a radio on or belt out a note
mid-day mid-traffic admist all life.
At least it would not forget me,
least not easily.
Because even in the oddest songs
I hear my very name in murmurs and mumbles.
But no, I fell in love with an  apple,
a mist, a breeze,
a simple man taking up all compartments of my heart.
I fell in love with one who knows only
goodbyes and sorries
and “I won’t be home early dear”.
I fell in love with empty dinner plates,
laundry bins filled
and constantly trying to be more than the walls would let me.
I fell in love with examining the soles of his shoes
wondering if I could smell fire on them,
what remains of the woman with a house on a burning hill
where the sun meets fate and her bosom meets his hand.
where they share each other.
where they attempt to erase me
from behind the doors of their eyes.
I am no man’s indigo lover,
no man’s maybe or possibly or perhaps,
no man’s mat laying waiting from him
to put his weight on me
and rub the reminders of lustful nights into my fabric.
I am not ! I am never!
Where shall he rest his four-leaf-clover covered heart
when the air of a broken woman in me blows it away?
will he recognize me if I adorn myself in lavender,
wear coats of blue and call myself a flower?
Will he still know me like his heart knows beats
when I too fade into the crowd
with what little glitter and sunshine I have painted on my edges?
Will ‘Goodbye’ taste bitter on my lips and sugar lumps tumble down my cheeks?
I should have fallen in love with music instead, it would have done
my soul justice.

 

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..~Back~..

 

I want to follow satellites and stars
and the swift music from the boombox
of our past, diner moments
humming along to songs whose words
we’d never known
I wana follow the trail of your morning
whispers,
holding doors for me, beanie hat
in hand “My lady”
The strum of your guitar, the drum of your
drum, the depth in your voice,
the marks your longboard made on my father’s
driveway, the backseat track 8 memory
of us holding hands and being silly in
what I can only describe as your “car”.
I want to follow the enchanted roads of
chance, fate and kismet tracing them back
to where we’d met,
exchanging glances, stealing stares every once
in a while from thick Alegebra Books.
I’m missing the sound your keys made from your
tunnel-pockets
as you walked,
Once you finally arrived in my life
I always knew  when you were coming.
remembering how you had
a key for everything, spreading them
on my mother’s countertop
I’d ask you what each is for,
“How about the one for my heart?”
I’ve asked for you back, from nature, from
hope, from heaven & co. I have asked and
begged, eyes closed, eyes opened, hands
up, hands down, on my feet, on my knees.
I’d like to find the portal, the album
Time has kept of my forever
and there I’ll wait
for our worlds to melt into
a single heart
once again.

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~Sundancer~

Catching dirt with your eyelashes,

 You lay down like violet fields,

 Somebody told me that a rainbow

 melted in your eyes

  it sank in so deep that behind

one-lid lies a forest and behind

 the other is an ocean,

 I love it.

 Tippytoe-walker how you dodge

 glass chippings with ease yet

 you set yourself  in no man’s land

 with your eyes tracing clouds in the

 sky

 oblivious to how crazy I am for explorers

 those who can name the stars backwards

 and tell you exactly how many bicycles there

 are in Beijing.

 Looking at the world like it’s a mere town along

 the roads on your palms.

 . And sometimes  your acetone words

 and your cold shoulders startle me

 but they don’t take anything from

 how I feel at home when we come

cheek to cheek

how my forehead ever has a print

of your lipstick.

 How we link arms and chase shadows

 in city streets

 mimicking car alarms and eating

 Corn in tiny cups that we clench onto like

 life itself.

 Hijacking carousels and laughing

 At innocent bystanders as they raise their

 noses.

 Sugar cookies and chamomile tea we have

 Tea-parties with park ants.

Suddenly

 I see you lifting your limbs and dancing

 wherever visible sunrays meet dirty pavements

 and I watch you glisten like snow flakes

 and I watch you unravel, who would have known

 how you hid yourself, shy eyes?

 Sundancer.

by Upile Chisala 26/12/2011

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~ I Dreamt about Noah~

You may find this crazy,
but I dreamt about Noah
Say!, don’t dreams mean a thing or two?
Like palm-reading or looking into a crystal ball,
Telling destinies from a deck of cards
Say!, don’t dreams mean a darn thing, a good thing
, a true thing?
So I’m telling you that I dreamt about Noah
calling me Mommy, walking out, holding my hand
like he lived. like he existed already.
His smile was mine and our laughs alike
A compatible pair.
I loved him powerfully.
My world had shrank, it was  but
this little boy, this little life.
I dreamt about Noah.

By Upile Chisala.

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~Neftali~

Radiance,
I tunnel my way through something foreign
it smells like rain and broken hearts
discarded in the dust
I breathe it in
and cry it out
what could arise from such a pain
such a pang
such a wound in my soul?
being alone so long
I shed off all the sunshine that had glazed
my skin
dancing around me like yellow butterflies
and slip into something less
darkness
numbness.

Having hit the bottom of life’s cup
I was vulnerable to myself
and the walls
and the skies
and everything that watched me disappear.
who could I blame
but the one soul that knew me like
a Sunday song?
love didn’t come in my size
it fit too loose
too tight
or couldn’t even make its way to my heart
but I insisted on loving you
and letting you love me less
than I needed.

So I sit here
absorbing up nothingness
because it is all I have left
all I have to claim.
all I have to keep me from
staring at the kisses I blew
out into the world
that never made it.
I only pray to be a thought of yours
that graces your mind every once
in a smile.
but never is a truth,
so I sit here clinging to my drink
of misery.
the stakes of love
I shall learn once this bottle is done
not to leave my heart out for the grabbing.

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