Leonard Ninwie

Where have I woken up to this time?
I rolled and snarled at my assault, and
It felt like a minute ago I had expired.
Thoughtless and empty was the infinite break.
...

I saw us together with wrinkled hands bonded in love
And our grandchildren swimming in the pool of our sweat
It was a vision then a dream that ordained day I held beauty in
My eyes but torn between the world, my dark side and love
...

There’s nature’s beauty oblivious to us;
Emotions in our hearts that we never get to feel
Or afraid to succumb to these strange forces
Joy barred by culture and social classes
...

Emissaries of the mind report a tree as a forest
With our mirrored minds pooling mirages of absolutes
Desecrating a sober of infinity to rotations and revolutions
Of a busy meteor in the gargantuan galaxy with our
...

My father's compound was in a wake with jocund
On the old year labor's with an awaited new year
And all that must be in another revolt at an hour
Breathing in the cold breeze to deliver dawn
...

I was born with such grey and senile beard
To flower into rife ebony whiskers of a dad
And groom manhood to the shy pubis of a lover
Pausing briefly in the warm arms of my mother
...

You are the trophy of love, our love and I
Rode you on my strong shoulders to school
I sucked your nose until the day you wore a beard
I love you and your mother more than anything
...

Black as the dark skins of starving children and women,
Exhausted from the birth of refugees and civilized wars;
Funded to lute and plunder the ebony star into cold darkness.
Poisoning the credulous genius with golden cups of power, the
...

The breath of woes linger here and there
Flaring like the undying fire-pits of hell with
The wishes of yonder; green and rife
Where this tanned bark glister in albumen
...

The night is dull and mudded
The rains are relentless and
The sun has gone to bed too early
His brows nipped by the cold
...

They raise the dour voice of the dancer
As much as the elastic voice of the singer
In duty to the endless song of the concert and
These lead singers; choirmasters they are called
...

That which we desire we call love
Yet both are but lavish words
Brain children of our greedy minds.
Who amongst us desire poverty? And
...

Before there was ever a language, man spoke
Not with words nor pictures but with nature
Good and bad in him like water and blood
Never being rich nor poor but either happy or sad
...

Is a stream of emotions;
A river of hope running through ink
And the outpour of frustration
And dreams with aspiration that are
...