I dedicate this poem to Arsiema Berhane in response to her poem, ''War''
Children,
...
...'another 2: 47 am morning for me roasting marshmellows around the flames of the once great city that use to be Poem Hunter, now a pile of burning rubble and ash full of sad memories and crazed ax-men. I pat my uzi gently on it's glistening, pregnant side, and pop another gewy mellow into my ever ready mouth'.
R.C. Abbekka
**Poem Hunter was once a haven where a glowing calibre of poets would meet and ignite passion...because of two men...too many have fallen.....May they rest in peace.
...
An angel came to my door
I can't believe she heard my prayers
Reaching out her fine hand
she pointed to the dream I had
...
opening my eyes
this man
is so deep inside me
I wake with a rush
...
This place and
all our encounters
are made of glass-
''fire it up''
...
I am energised
by the very process
of exhaustion,
loving you...
...
Dominated
I've learned to
control emotions
to forget to feel
...
Be nice to your girl
because
she calls to your wild
...