Cold concrete floor and deafening silence
locks on every door displaying numbers
no names or personalities, no music or kid’s steps
just the sound of all seasons rushing to escape
...
We can talk for hours and laugh in between
He respects my words as much as I respect his thinking
There we were choosing human characters from an article
Intrinsically we both chose a man who lavish in infidelity
...
Sailing down the river named serenity
ushered by the laughter of summer wind
emerging and fading from my senses
are time defying moments captured by my mind’s eyes
...
I crave your eyes, your laughter, your touch
I crave the smile of your eyes
the warmth of your breath
the scent of your eyelids
...
I serve my pen to feed my flesh and my soul extract honey from the alphabets
I come alive and true, when I write
I have no mirror, no dressing room, no camera,
I know no shame
...
I am free at heart, I kowtow to no rules
Today, I try to change and bear relationship for two
that love has tailored for me carefully
but I tried to run away
...
His voice,
the sound of summer cloud
His walk,
forgotten music notes
...
My beloved I have much to say,
Oh my! where should I start?
Before you came...
...
Everything carries me to you,
and my soul knows you,
all my life, I've been dancing to your stories,
with you, nights waltz in lucid space,
...
When I love a man, I speak no words nor make sentences
When I love a man, I understand the language of the moon
and the laughter of the sun.
...
How did we come to be here, ask me again?
Quietly, resting with our eyes ajar,
intoxicated by each others skin,
we are but silence wrapped in spell,
...
I loved you without knowing you,
I loved you because I saw you in us,
No pride or ego, in which there is no I or you,
I laughed in your mouth,
...
Transition…I think I am? I am a progression!
I am the vacancy between the alphabets.
My feet travel silently. Back and forth-side to side
with a blazing desire to transit. Asking who I am?
...
I woke up this morning dressed in a wedding gown
Jeweled with lexis’s such as vow, companionship and docile
Neck line bejeweled with nouns, pronouns’ and syntaxes’
And the stitches with adjectives and the lining with an apostrophes
...
The forest fire, sneaking up with silence suggestions and
Exposing each branch to its flame
Communicating time passed; time gained; time promised
Between yesterday and tomorrow.
...
Democracy was dressed with glitter of humility
And the moon sitting on a rocking chair, comforting baby equality
People gathered to pay tribute to his tapestry of words
Standing on the platform of oneness
...
It's like a loud gale...
scorching hundred miles an hour
leaving bruises at the brim of mother-earth
it never stops be it twelve noon or midnight
...
I am but a stream between hard rocks
mountains sings for my arrival
while I soar like an eagle.
...
You remember that day, that bright October day
when you my Lord, and my youthful lover argued endlessly
Do you remember that day?
When dawn sung her song of infidelity
...
I am an immigrant
quisling with various flags
when I enter my hut
I wear my ego and listen to CNN.
...
A woman who wears a shawl weaved out of words...a sister, a daughter and a friend.)
“public-Self-Storage-Space'
Cold concrete floor and deafening silence
locks on every door displaying numbers
no names or personalities, no music or kid’s steps
just the sound of all seasons rushing to escape
sneaking through the cracks are our collective tales.
Old photo albums, and dresses with there tags
unopened Christmas presents, and the crystal wine glass
love letters from the seventies and teddy bears from the past
Oh! grandma recipes books and old biker pants.
Ballet dancer shoes and the exercise sound tracks
broken plastic chairs and plastic covered sofas
empty perfume bottles and the broken music box
the left over gift wraps and of course dirty dolls.
The babies’ first shoes and grandpas' eye wears
old crumbled maps and mangled license plates
The high-school diplomas and dried gummy bears
college essay papers and expired credit cards.
The unfinished craft projects and dried paint brushes
dust dressed magazines and the old version software
mismatched socks with holes and smaller blouse with stains
the forgotten changes in the pockets and washed up dollar bills.
Wondering through the coldness of Public-Self-Storage
are our defiant tails 'occupying' unnecessary space.
© Emu Getachew, October 30th,2009
Conversation with Jo is an unique poem...very nice..! ! ! It says so much and the expression is so unique... Very nice.. like it..! !
I really liked the first poem called Apartment 426. I kinda seemed mysterious in away. ***Please check out Chanelle Fields poems. Fill free to comment on my poems**
His poems have voice and life. He gives voice to inanimate. The reverberation is heard relentlessly.