The deafening sound of silence!

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Silence,
Can become an oppressing violence,
Fascinating word,
In a fascinating world,
Silence can speak clarity the loudest,
Confusingly it can also speak the cloudiest,

It can be a helpful mask,
When knowledge is called to task,
Hiding the ignorance,
Shielding the arrogance,

It can be a knife,
It can save a life,
It can fuel injustice,
Sanction every prejudice,

It can mean there is no voice,
There is no noise,
It could also mean we cannot hear,
Even though it is so near,
And the voice so clear,

In the same vein God's silence,
Is when we are so caught up in self and violence,
That His voice is drowned,
Where self is crowned.

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Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Royal Blues

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The way you jived in to the melodious sound of the country blues,
Dazzling from the crown of your head to the sole of your feet in blues,
The donned hat crowned you in royal airs with a royal shade of blue,
Looked like you were born in that party dress channeling the fullest glory of your outward beauty in appealing shades of blue,
Those sandals looked happy to have your feet grace them completing the beautiful ensemble of royal blue,
Like the clear blue skies of the brightest summer days you left the room enchanted in weekend blues,
Daintily cat walking with a gracious beauty better than that of the pretty butterfly on the window pane clad in different hues of blues.

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

In awe of you

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They all spoke glowingly of your inside out beauty and intellectual prowess,
No matter how much they tried they couldn't mask their wonder at your professional progress,
You left them in a helpless state of awe,
In number they were four.

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Power full high hills

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Year after year after year they say the future belongs to the youth,

The very lifelong leaders who are dictionary definitions of uncouth,

Slogans dripping with deception and lies that the youth are the leaders of tomorrow,

When the reflection on the leadership mirror,

Shows over 30 years of the same people saying the same things,

Through a perpetual bullying presence on the corridors of power they clip young wings,

Ensure a lack of apprenticeship so the young never learn to fly,

Give them just enough to make sure their ambitions learn to die,

If the young will ever step into the shoes of leadership,

Somebody’s gotta make room for the younger fragile feet to fit,

Get used to the power full shoes,

Acquaint themselves to the high heels and hills,

Learn to walk in them,

Climbing and learning the ropes of power,

And if the old will not let the shoes be filled by younger fresher smarter feet,

The young must employ every smart strategy to force them to make the room,

For the changes the countries need,

If we will ever truly lead,

Let us make their fake promises true,

Not because it was said but because it should be so,

If the country will catch up with the transformational changes of the times,

Then the young must lead,

Fully leveraging their best ideas,

Minimizing influence of the worst,

Fully learning the best lessons from history and the old,

Flushing the bad practices and all the destructive isms down the toilet drains,

Making sure to keep the link between the heart and brains,

And leaving behind the delusive thinking,

That much needed change will be handed on a platter of gold.

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Love is a loaded gun!

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Loaded with a bullet of jealousy,
The kind which makes you lousy,
Conjuring a thousand reasons why they are unreachable,
You get the mental investigations wrong every time but remain unteachable,

Loaded with a bullet of heartbreaking loneliness,
When a dreaded distance makes you miss their comeliness,
Beautiful memories of the last meeting aggravate the pain,
Thoughts of hopeful anticipation bringing a momentary high to the brain,

Loaded with a bullet of care,
A care that almost makes you want to be their air,
You worry whether they are alright,
Praying they perpetually walk in a horizon that's all bright,

Love is a loaded gun,
A beautiful rose with thorns,
It must be plucked delicately,
Or the hand that plucks it bleeds.

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Graffiti of poetic interpretations

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In a world where it is more important to be right,
So that the other person can be wrong,
Than it is for all to make genuine efforts so that love can reign supreme,
Where it is increasingly less important to build and construct and grow together,
Where it is more important to destroy another and whittle them down,
So that the destroyer can seem tall, talk big and be in charge,
Sometimes the beauty of poetry lies in the fact,
That one can escape to it without need to be right or wrong or tall or short,

And the magic of poetry sometimes lies in the fact,
That there  may be no right or wrong interpretation,
And a numberless myriad of genuine interpretations,
Can paint the literary wall in the cosmic and mental space,
A wall like canvass connecting like and unlike minds,
Spanning different generations and different geographies,
Painting a graffiti of poetic interpretations,

Telling symbol of the potential beauty in our diversity,
Each one brilliantly telling "In our differences I am like you",
Different but human!

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

The day after Valentine!

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It is February 15th,
And the world rises slowly from the drunken stupor of yesterday,
Rising to one immutable fact that must not be drowned,
Drowned in memories of a single day of all what was or is called loved,

That the world is just in need of love today,
Like it was yesterday,
The day before yesterday,
And the day before many yesterdays,

That the world will be just as much in dire need of love,
Tomorrow,
The day after tomorrow,
And the day of after many countless tomorrows,

So may the powerful strides of love,
Which paused to celebrate itself on Valentine's day,
Never be stopped in its own all too important and life sustaining tracks,
For we do in fact need love every day,
And the world is better for a daily fest of  it,

Amor vincit omnia,
That age old timely and timeless truth,
Still ringing as true today as when it was conceived,
Help us o God.

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary