Alan Kabanshi Poems

We don't know much about another than a name shared
To you I am a reminder of the devils work, if not a clown
But you are a sad reminder of my hereditary piece that fits upside down
...

It was a bitter view of what lied ahead, from the moment I was due.
A doubt sowed at birth of what the world was.

Never doubt, all along you have been a pinnacle, my brightest light.
...

Shine with an artistic impression, Helpless but one stands to stare
In a glowing smile smeared with envy and a promise of an after life
But in the palms of a reference sprouts forth a difference
And the roots of a painting are but buried from a dropp of paint.
...

Time comes, when diversion safes embitter our parting
The fringes of belief whetted
The faces tweaked
Exasperation provoked, rolling out falsehood
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Storms of love
Thunder to rip my heart
My mind empty to blossoming thoughts of you
A dear and lovely lily
...

I never pictured falling down looking for sympathy
Caught in between all wishful, wondering what led to this path
Trying to find anything ideal that I can believe in
Because all I wish for is now caught in between all wishful
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The past a crushed velvet with a sheen
upside held promises that would have been
Though malleably not to change and would never be altered
Poisonous its weight rests on our conscience and only pain to us is referred
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When the sun goes down, Shadows go into hiding
We are left but with ourselves
Memories peck, truth become blinding
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25th May it was said you were due
That night fears were never few
A calling you refused, you never came through
But on the 26th, our worries you threw
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Lost and deeply rooted in cogitation, He quickened his pace as he blankly stared at the fading niveous sky, the dancing twinkly stars that earlier evanesced in the waking light and now peeling through the insouciance dusk. The night slowly getting established and the sleepy-gleeding sun giving off the evening sororal warmth. His afflated spirit surfeit to the life thats awaiting his presence. The joy of seeing his new born son after a days long work could not be mistaken in his hastened steps. His figure cut through the cold breeze at breakneck speed, freezing everything but the image of his sons face.

He sat in wonder, to the limit of his cognition where his father could be, for it has been hours without the sight of him. The absence has aroused his longing that he turns to every sound hoping it could be him. He hears the scratching of the key into the key hole, but brushes it aside as an empty sound that leaves his heart sick. Suddenly, he holds still as his attention is held captive by the turning door knob. His face bloated, he joyously sits in anticipation of a promise and fruition of the door knob sound. Without hesitation he astired to the edge of the bed and he could not even feel the slap of the evening cold that stealthily sipped in though the door. In daddy's arms, they indulged in laughter and for hours played until his body failed his spirit and silently he drifted into lands of dreams.
...