A Fascination With Blackbirds, Ravens and Crows

Painting by me, entitled Crow

For a long time now, I've had a fascination with Blackbirds, Ravens and Crows. For instance, the raven is often seen as a bad omen, a foreboding of death. But in some cultures, the raven is viewed as a symbol of change, mysterious, a messenger of the gods, highly intelligent, keeper of secrets. 

Where I live, I see a lot of crows. I pay particular attention to them when they fly overhead. And I see it as a good sign when they land and walk along beside me.

The Crows

Today, I watched the crows
as they swooped
and dived at each other
above the tops of the trees,
squawking
above the din of early morning traffic.

Sometimes I wish I were a crow,
moving to the music
of the seasons,
squawking my song
and dancing my dance
high above all the gazing eyes
looking up and wishing
they were me.

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No Such Thing As Secret Love

Ok, so I've been in love with this guy for some time now. We dated years ago and were planning to marry. Well, things didn't work out and he is now married and living....well, let's just say, he lives a world away from me. Well he claims he is still in love with me....ok, so I still love him too. 

No Secret

If I close my eyes and hold my breath
I can see you
Smiling up at me like you haven’t a care in the world,
As if no one will notice the longing you possess in your eyes for me,
Like our love were a secret…
It’s not you know,
It shines on my face
And resonates in every word I utter between my lips.
And you are no better
Every smile you smile tells of the love you have for me
Every glance you gaze off into the distance
Tells of the thoughts you have for me
The wanting that burns you up inside.
We think we’re hiding a secret,
But we’re not,
it’s all over our faces.


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Africa Sings

A moment
siphons dreams
from a barren woman
like puffs
of dusty air
from panting nostrils,
while low hums
betray her presence
in the thick,
and billow
like a fragrance
on the smoke of prayers
to the gods,
until her hunger
beats the skins
of the ashiko and djembe
and dances the earth,
pounding out the rhythm
that is Africa,

and Africa sings. 

Painting by me, entitled Africa

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Africa in me

I have been bitten by the "Africa" bug. Everywhere I go, I find stores that cater to the Africa-minded with art, music, movies. And I can't help but add another object to my collection. I've been holding back as much as I can, as I'm planning to be in Nigeria for December, but as my weak will would have it, I'm not doing so well.

This is my latest purchase.

God Is Good

This world is not a very kind place for the insecure. The evils of this world and its inhabitants constantly threaten to tear at the hearts of simple, trusting people. But God is good. He promised His children that He will not allow them to take on more than they can bear. And He always honours His promises. Thank God that He is a God of sure promises, the Healer of wounds and the Eraser or scars.

Show Me Your Eyes

The heart of the man was cunningly wicked;
His tongue was callous and cold.
The schemes he used hurt and abused,
While his eyes were the windows to his soul.

Sweet words he twisted to suit his purpose;
Each promise was bent, then broken.
Lies he construed to sound like the truth,
While his true intent went unspoken.

Love was a game for him to win,
And hearts that were blind, he stole.
His touches felt good, so she misunderstood
That his eyes were the windows to his soul.

The woman believed the tongue of the man
Who lied of such doting affection.
She hung on the smiles that he donned all the while
That his mind sought another direction.

His lips burned with kisses that teased her inside
And bade her to fall for his lies.
Her emotions he played with the future he paved,
While his lids closed over his eyes.
He refused to show her his eyes.

Crumpled Words

It’s 4 AM on Monday morning when the traffic outside my window hums to life. And somewhere in my building a toilet is flushed, and running water spills through pipes behind a wall.

I sit staring at the four clichéd lines in my notebook, that suddenly become squished inside a crumpled ball of paper thrown on my bedroom floor. I pinch my eyes tight to get hold of any reasons that might be there - reasons for the emptiness that has suddenly opened up between us, reasons for the coldness, the hunger - but find none. And still,

the lines I send out spoil the words that return -

his carefully chosen words, that drip without emotion over staggered lips and fall like pulp from his thoughts of me squeezed through cyber space. He stares blankly, as the lines he wanted to say lie squished inside a crumpled ball of paper on his bedroom floor.