Archive | May 2013

A portrait of Oklahoma

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The world is described as a global village because it is now easier to switch on your TV and watch live happenings around the world. You just simply turn your computer and click away at major happenings around the world.

I therefore woke up to a live telecast of a tornado in the state of Oklahoma in the USA. Every natural disaster of such magnitude is devastating for the people involved, their families and love ones.  Disasters often leave us feeling helpless but we find strengthen in our helplessness and unity.

If you are a regular to my blog, you would often notice that I love to use pictures to illustrate whatever it is that I am writing about. Pictures just speak better than thousand words. A picture has the power to draw you in and yet gives you the option and liberty to decide for yourself its meaning. Where words fail to create an impression a picture does with ease.

So after listening and watching footages of the tornado, I decided to look through slides of this natural disaster. There were thousands of pictures to look at and each picture had a story to tell. It was almost as if each picture wanted me to hear its story. The stories ranged from bravery, resilience, pain and joy.

After looking through most of these pictures, one picture created an unforgettable impression on me. I knew I wanted to copy and save that picture and I knew I wanted to write a story about this picture but each time I try, I failed because the picture told its own story better than anybody could ever tell it.

The truth is that I don’t know if it’s the merging of the two souls in the picture I like or if it is the humanity in the picture. Maybe it is the perfect representation of two different races; it might just be the bear hug of this huge man given to a vulnerable child after he was rescued from the rubbles. I think it might just be a little bit of all the reasons given above.

All the picture might just be saying is LIFE………………………………………………………………………………………………

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The Potion

Daily Prompt: Dulled

You encounter a mysterious man offering you a magic potion that, once sipped, will make one of your senses (sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch) super sharp — but dull the others. Will you sip it, and if so, what sense do you choose?

 

 I decided to answer todays daily prompt with a poem. To find my answer read the poem below:

 

Image 

Endowed with

All senses

I see

I smell

I hear

I touch

I taste

This is life

In equal Measure

I need none stronger

Than the other

Life offered a sip

Of the magic potion

To make one sense

Sharper than the others

But I will hear none of it

For I am one to taste

A bit of everything

That makes my world

Colorful and complete

An ode to Rolanda (A mama of all occasions)

My Mother

I am so lucky

To have a mother of all occasions

She made sure I was not left out

She protected me from the claws of the world

She made painful sacrifices for me

When times were hard

She did not give up on me

When I fall, she only lifts me up

With love sparkling in her eyes

I will not exchange one string of her hair

For another mother

 

 

You share my lonely times

You partake in my happiness

And how lucky I am to have a mama

Of all occasions and circumstances

You did not give up on me

Even for the riches of the world

When people rejected you because of me

You only held on more tightly to me

I celebrate you mama.

Savannah Beauty

 Photo Credit: NaturallyCurlyKinky.com

She stands tall

More than your typical woman

Her soul radiates as her skin does

Skin as dark as the savannah night

 

 When she smiles

Her milky teeth flashes

Illuminating her being

She is not a wonder woman

But she makes you wonder

 

She oozes desire

And hold you captive

With every gentle step

She is fully clad but

 Leaves much to your

Imagination and lust

VICTIMS

I wrote this poem when I was in senior High school and my government teacher (May his soul rest in peace) came in to teach about the effect of war on war veterans particularly African soldiers who went off to Burma to fight enemies who were really not their enemies because the war had nothing to do with Africa. He spoke of how these brave men came back destroyed body and soul. Some of them became mad; others delusional and others committed suicide. He said there was no form of help for them when they came back home so most of them did not know how to reintegrate into the families and communities they left behind.

So as a 16 year old at the time, I wrote a poem about that topic my teacher taught for that day. Looking at the poem now, it is still very relevant since there is more violence and wars in the world than there has ever been. I thought I might change the poem so it sounds much more mature than it did at the time but I have just decided to let my innocence and understanding of the topic at the time stand as it was.

This is the poem word for word as I wrote it back then. (Pardon the ignorance and expressions of a 16 year old girl)

VICTIMS

I

How will I ever

Be able to tell

My story

We went off to

A strange land

And met strange

Enemies who did us

No harm

Guns. Shots. Casualties  

We return to empty houses

And our hearts heavy with

Blood strains and cries of

Innocent people

 

II

My mouth too heavy to open

my tongue

Too heavy to form words

I am redrawn

I keep all the horror to myself

My people understand me

I am the first victim

III

I came back to nothing

All was not the same

I still went along

But I was too different

To become part of my people

I had to stay away

In frustration I ended it all

My people understand me

I am the second victim

IV

Too much was drummed

Into my head

Meaningless yet powerful

Words of command

I drank too many words

And commands which made

No sense to me

I am back home in madness

I shout senseless commands

Which I learnt in this strange land

Of battle and fear

I roam the land of my people

In tired less strides

My people understand me

I am the third victim