GENTLEMAN OF PANACHE

Budding love is like a seed growing slowly into a flower, Young love is like a storm rising, getting stronger with every hour. How often during those days, Do people, like beasts of burden plough, Slaving to smoothen the sands of loneliness to the fineness of companionship, Bearing the York, least to say, bearing the stamps of persuasion. To the hallowth grounds of a lover’s heart does a man limb, Forging the greatest weapons in promises and gifts, Ever with a view to lure the allegiance of a lover, And in the gutters scheme against insatiable competitors who compromise his efforts to win a fair lady. In the end, The soul cherishes the scars suffered in the confrontations, The whispers of a loved one soothes the soul, The universe forgotten during nights when a pair grooves into the wee hours of the night, disturbing the solitude of the ghosts of the night! The feel of a treasured one every morning lying by your side… Every given morning… Say I more of The Treasures

Were these lonely tears hot enough to scald through this wall of longing! Were it conceivable, I would hawk every single word of emotion that I may bid a path way. Darkness miles in contrast, the wetness fog my sight more, Stalling my pace to where the dance beckons. She was the first song I heard and believe I did in every word, Hence I adventure to hunt her treasures. I desire not to put my will to rest, Though this cave of deceit swung my destiny out of control! I am a sole traveler, The silence of the night married my loneliness. Drained of motivation whilst purpose steadfast in my quest. Her sign flickers in the woods, her words drown into the oblivion, Still, dance must I! Firm in hand, I clutch to my walking stick, to steady my step, Stride along to bear my dream. See nothing of my face again, to the dance I must jig. Though hard to say if I shall dance with her. If I asked, will she say yes? Still, dance must I!

Dream they did, our founding fathers, For a just cause, fight they did, For liberation, they believed in, And today we walk tall, gratitude to them we owe. Now; When I look upon the tombs of the great, Every emotion of envy dies in me. When I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, Every inordinate desire dies out. When I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, My heart melts with compassion. When I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. Bathroom promises, The bait on whose hook we hang, Nothing but a mirage; an illusion, We reach out to grasp, And the noose around our neck is fastened. Preach I would were it not for my prowess with this pen, Pregnant with hope, Bursting with anticipation; my eyelids shall never get weary, For you I do dream. To our nation, In moods of despair, Never forget that sunshine will ultimately come back, Its absence never permanent, Hang onto your fait

Manifold thoughts of ‘we’ gnaw upon my calm, Forcing down the walls I erected for my comfort. The tunnel to my chamber of love has since grown cobwebs and pitch dark, I only treasure souvenirs of how you used to clean it often with your affection. The ‘off-world’ of happiness, ages since I last set foot, Only in my occasional 9th dreams does my face glow, When you grace my fantasies, When my thirst for you is only quenched by a drop, a flash of your presence. Gloom has been my saddle, On which each sunrise to sunset I ride, Humping up the mountainous ride in search. In search of where the fields are green and plane, So I may pitch camp, And hymn tunes known only to your ears, And hope the spirits shall miss the beat to the songs, The beat of your heart as you lie next to me. And away I shall wish the spirits, To wing through space when the grounds are conquered by your suitors, To swim along the rivers when the paths to you are barricaded by the bile of our bitte

The air between our fingertips the only barrier between us, Our eyes passionately imprisoned in an unchain-able embrace, As my left foot, right foot, left foot slow step, ‘Til my arms are wrapped around your waist, And yours coiled around my neck. In the breeze of night, The candle-light takes lead, Swaying effortlessly to the urge of the music, The curtains take the inspiration and couple with the wind, Sideways we sway; left, right and to the centre we faithfully follow, Lost in the moment, absorbed in the tenderness of your skin, The glow of contentment on your face, my ultimate libation. Deprived of sense and without reason, The world but, the two of us, Follow-th mine flow, Into my arms rest-th; find comfort, For this night… Tonight I’ll be your piano-man, I’ll play every request that you wanna hear. Tonight I’ll be your guitar-man, I’ll strum every string in me to your satisfaction. Tonight I’ll be your flute-man, Place your lips upon my lips and I shall

The clouds of smoke wore off past the vision of sight, The ashes freed from the bulk of mass of what used to be to the handful of what was now, The gravel crashed from the warmth of rocks known for millions of years to the fineness tickling my bare skin, The sprouting green grass kissing the descending redness of the sun’s givings As the sunrays hunted the treasures from below and the moisture broke free past the surface, The roses danced to the persuasion of the whispers of promises known only to them and the bees, And they yawned in affection, sweetening the fragrance and my nostrils saluted in recognition. How the skies sheepishly battled to conceal their wide grin but how the cheeky clouds emerged supreme, Curving the content smile that had wiped my tears at my grand pa’s death bed (all was fine son). As the tree leaves parachuted from the branches that had nourished their well-being, To camouflage the bare ground below in the colors of a chameleon. A lady bird flew past

Tales have been shared; My grandparents hid to your call, And pull they did ‘til their backs broke! My parents trusted you they did, To the mud your footprints led them! The serpent you are, With your tongue you lied to be the change, A patched short in the rear you threw our way! With my eyes I have witnessed; Across the road you promised to safely guide me, Now I hop about in clutches! “Take my hand, let’s cross the river,” you asked of me, Now am dangling on the bridge fighting not to be the crocodiles’ meal! On your knees you swore, my table shall not lack bread, Instead, a hand with spit you extend! Is this thin sheet the warm blanket you promised? Are the nights filled with gun-shots the peaceful calm nights you promised? Is poison the medicine to tender to my wounds? In my finger nails I mine for yester night’s feed to shove down the throat of my generation! With my strands of hair I bait fish withal, mocking laughter the consequence! My pound of flesh the