Epiphany

Seedling

mmercadokama — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 03:15:37 +0000

There is newfound beauty in the day,

A different hue in all the colours,

A fresh scent in the air.

My eyes believe for the first time

A profound clarity in the chaos,

Faith in the fate of things.

It is a new day in an old life,

Rising from the dawn

Of the beginning.

My heart falls in love believing

And knowing within mine

Your heart beats.

There is a love before first sight,

A love, alive in the infinite truth

That you are.

The greatest thing I’ll ever do,

The reason it makes sense,

And every good in me.

Filed under: Poetry

The journey of return: published on Eclecticism

mmercadokama — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 14:15:10 +0000

Eclecticism e-zine, edited by Craig Bezant has released its 10th issue, which includes one of my pieces: The journey of return.

Once again, Bezant has put together a beautifully-crafted issue (from content to design, from cover to cover).

Theme for this issue is inanimate reanimated. Check it out here.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: animated, e-zine, eclectic, eclecticism, news, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, poetry. poems, publication, published, reanimated, writer, writing

Conceiving hope

mmercadokama — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 05:45:54 +0000

I smile at our children.

I see your eyes and my lips.

I hear your laugh and my grimace.

Born from our love – our creation.

They are alive. They are my hope for a future,

Much simpler and complete.

I see them climbing trees,

Making odd-shaped pancakes.

With charm and intelligence, greater than ours.

Cheeky and inquisitive.

Untainted as a child should be.

Snoring with you as you sleep

After reading my bedtime stories.

I see them. They are alive and waiting inside me.

I feel them. They are alive in our embrace.

They are waiting.

For God to open the door,

For the moment they enter our lives

And fill it with inexplicable happiness.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: child, children, happiness, hope, life, love, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, writer, writing

Premonition of a Storm

mmercadokama — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 09:43:47 +0000

In the break of the morning,

My eyes feel a storm stirring.

Never does it come.

In the dead of the night,

I am breaking.

Never do I shatter.

One day, I will.

And you will be the cause.

The morning thunderous,

The night broken.

You will live each day

Like any other…

Not knowing what you’ve done.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: adversity, life, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, poetry. poems, premonition, storm, writer, writing

Maka

mmercadokama — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 02:49:46 +0000

Amongst the noise and the people,

I heard silence but one name.

A name I had not heard,

But one familiar to me.

The very man behind the name

Was home long forgotten.

A feeling thought lost

In the surrounding madness.

In his words I found understanding.

In his touch I found bliss.

In his smile I found comfort

And a kindness untainted.

Now passed one day and thirty,

Since the whirlwind of us.

And each day we spend, a day closer

To something no less of amazing.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: love, one, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, writer, writing

Sway

mmercadokama — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 02:46:27 +0000

Pendelum hold

look past, head down

and frown. Jealousy of memory,

I want to be me.

Grieving a death,

heavy like lead

with shame,

Shame at the doorstep.

Scales, justice topples

always leaning left and left

refresh my mind,

Memory’s not so kind.

Proper and smart

I let her into my heart

it was cold in there,

not like the thirties and forties

degrees of measure

measure me in weight,

in pain and experience

I would be heavy.

Light like a feather

light of night

Light of my life

gets a beating.

Beaten like me

pummeled into grown-up land

caressed out the child

and love was dirtied.

Clean up the mess

Year one, two and third.

Flirt with madness

then cure the hurt.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: adversity, anxiety, change, depression, grief, life, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, writing

A Friday evening

mmercadokama — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 00:25:18 +0000

The sky is crying tonight,

the leaves dance and cheer

the grass enjoys the dew

while above it cracks and leaks.

Tomorrow will be green,

But the night so far, is dark.

The dawn will bring sunlight

Hidden in her fairy floss.

And she will wear her gumboots

To stamp the puddles out

Its tears will fall on soil.

Life will leap out from it.

But tonight, the sky weeps,

The earth will dance and celebrate.

Its tears give life – a tragedy

- for no creature consoles the rain.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: life, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, rain, writing

Utopia

mmercadokama — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 02:24:04 +0000

There is a place where freedom lives,

Where hunger, danger and loneliness know not.

It is a place that no one has seen.

For no one has yet the good to build it.

Greed and power have resided here,

Long since the beginning of man and sin.

Long has it corroded the souls of good.

Long has it flourished the spirits grim.

Money and materials replace good and growth.

Rights and respect have not in lifetimes.

Some keep hope in a tiny wooden box.

As keepsake of short moments for rainy days.

The hands of power are soaked in blood.

They are soaked in gold and flesh and paper.

To them, here’s too great a place to ruin

For the sake of many, for their compromise.

Many no longer means movement.

For many hands are chained to their own feet.

They’re chained by blood and gold and paper.

And change is nowhere to be seen.

Neither is freedom, stranded in dreams.

Posted in Poetry

Confidante

mmercadokama — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 15:10:39 +0000

Hello again, dear friend.

My greeting grim bearing heavy stones.

I have come to unload my burden

From today and yesterday.

Apologies, my friend.

I bring not my good cheer

You are my release, storyteller

For one and all.

No goodbyes, fellow poet.

I’ve come never to depart.

Only brief respite from you,

My answers and meaning.

You are true, unwavering,

Against mind. Weapon of choice

Against the self’s faces of tomorrow,

Of today and yesterday.

Posted in Poetry

The unwelcome tenant

mmercadokama — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 17:26:14 +0000

Each time she chose the door.

Each time she turned to leave

Without a second glance.

She swung the door wide

Resentment was at the doorstep,

And he brushed past her on her way out.

Now I live with him.

He never speaks but he is there.

To remind us that we lost two, not one.

We’re startled when she arrives at night,

When she pops her head in,

To greet us when we’re half asleep.

Each time she chooses the door,

Each time she turns to leave,

Without a second glance,

I never speak but he does

He reminds me that I lost her,

He asks me how I let it happen.

And I kick him and bruise his face,

Because he’s got it all wrong…

She lost us. She died as he did.

Posted in Poetry Tagged: grief, poem, poet, poetry. poems, writer, writing