Poetry, Tale Africa

Sometimes its nature is dark


Sometimes its nature is dark

Textures of grime and slithering

Inviting the tenderness of strain

….and pain


But Oh the thrill and feel,

None tingles the same

Fretful warmth within, the heart loud in silence

The will is sound but the beat calls louder…

It calls… Tender in timbre….



Cold… very cold…


Warm rhythms engulf my heart…

Love and Death are not very different


Light taps, like tip-toe steps

Beats of life struggle against

The tender walls of my breast;

Freedom – shall I know?


On light winds, It flights Afar

To caress, a tender breast…

Pain I sense,

But in death too, do we find love


Through the misty cold I spy,

An ember, a hue of fire for two

To waft to life,

Tingly warmth it is

Freedom, shall we know?




They are not so different

Freedom – where are you?



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