Scarred

As he sat to eat breakfast, whilst I watched, the mango lay still in the bowl. I reminded him that though he wanted to be an engineer, he could do anything additionally. After all, he had the fingers of an artist. Yes, he draws and creates cartoons, but I’d love him to do portraits, too.

Shey, you still remember that you can write about anything and turn it into a poem.
Yes
Ok, let’s create a poem about this mango 🥭
Right now?
Why not?
Let’s call it “The Scarred Mango”
No, that will already tell the readers what it is about. You need to intrigue them 😉 😜 😘
Ok, we’ll call it “Scarred,” then.
Don’t forget to add the time and the date, so you know when you wrote it.
Ok.

And we began. But I wrote mine first (as he was eating), moreover, he said he wanted his lines to rhyme 😲, so he needed to think it through.

Why are you covering yours as you write, 🤔 mummy?
Because I don’t want you to use my lines. That way, yours is an original!

There you go, the first “Scarred” poem is by King-Earl, and I love his poem… very much, actually, because the first time we attempted to do a poem together many years ago about, it was laughable because he was describing the vase and making it obvious. Today is the 2nd attempt, and we wrote separately. These are the results.

It’s in you to become what you think. Think good. Think great and BE! Like Pastor Paul would say, it’s the Creator-Life at work in you!

What do you think about his work?

I am IMAN – I Manifest Adonai’s Nature
#UnapologeticallyMe
#iman
#imaninspires
#imanwrites
#imaniking

@imanikel 26032024 Frances Kelvin Otung (c)

The Gift called Silence

Rushing to my lips were a variety of ‘amazing’ responses,
Suited for the cacophony of ‘shades’ shot at my defenses.
Begging to be released, so they wash the other
As if by this singular act, restore order.
Yet, the barricade upon my lips held it grounds,
Causing my insides to bear these painful rounds.
Taking pride and finding love in sweet words;
These, sliced deep and hurt like battle-field swords.
Silence ruled and reigned in my world of many voices,
As different options in my mind held its vices.

Toying with the script I plan to play, with no one for audience,
I created scenes and crops for that day of rewarding offence.
Silently, I weighed, analyzed and found guilty each word
Silently, the Word taunted me to give up my right to God
Silently, with pain gnawing at my core
I pushed past each unmemorable bore
Suggestions of peace came a knocking
Revenge said, “you gat to be joking!”
I had my chances to let it all out and think later
I said no, because a peace trophy is always better.

Silence is a precious gift…
I’m glad I used for this rift.

@imanikel 100221 (c) Frances Kelvin Otung

Ride

This week with Ronovan on his Decima Challenge

On the wings of the wind take flight
The one I love, together ride
Taking in scenes with so much pride
All that gives me pure delight
Saved me from unknown midnight blight
Moving made easy, love’s busy!
“Keep still or you’ll get too dizzy”
You show off and make memories…
adding glow to our lives’ stories
A complete ride, nothing risky!

@imanikel 21082020 Frances Kelvin Otung

Just when I thought

Just when I thought

It won’t get any worse, you did more!

Just when I thought

Be gone, you long day that’s so fraught!

You said, “make it Rondelet sure”

My frozen tips began to thaw

Just when I thought.

@imanikel 06082020 Frances Kelvin Otung

Ronovan is at it again…and what do you think?

Prize

It’s a long road to victory

One that cost us family hours

And an end to smell the flowers

If you must, win! Make history!

Be a part of today’s story.

Don’t let anyone make you sigh,

As they all connivingly vie.

Will you attempt to jeopardize

Or willingly pay for the Prize?

All it takes to see you rise high!

That’s how this week went with Ronovan Décima Poetry Challenge.

@imanikel 06082020 Frances Kelvin Otung

The Morning After

Waking up beside a past, who has become another’s future.
From a night of passion, whose harvest is repeated torture.
How do you explain to prying eyes and questioning lips…
The questions that bug you and refuse to let “things” lie?
How do you get past the guilt,
when with future you meet?
How do you erase the filth,
from your night of tingling feet?
Before you cuddle and sweetly snuggle…
Enwrapped beneath sheets of love’s bundle
Before you throw caution to the wind,
using the dark as cover to sin,
Think, “will I be proud of of my deeds after?
“Will I hold my head up high in laughter?”

On Coping

Stuck in the process of crafting a line
as I chased to hold a drifting mind,
Slippery as an eel, the thoughts leave.
Up, down and sighs in ripples heave.
From viewing gorgeous almond-shaped eyes
to smiling at sweet thought-out lines.
Wishing brown chubby arms wrapped
me in warm hugs like King-Earl's raps!
I'm caught between make-believe and reality,
trying to ensure a sense of indemnity.

Back to pick up from where I stopped.
Perhaps, there are other ways to cope.
A line today...three more tomorrow.
"I'm fine", I say, "I feel no more 'sorrow'!"
Just an emptiness that never gets filled,
Like a space, a field, constantly filled.
We throw in bakes, cream, junk and films,
seeking change but chances are slim.
And I'm back to that wide-eyed beam,
which hurries, fading, like a sweet dream!

@imanikel 24072020 Frances Kelvin Otung

When Safe Ain’t Okay

‘Safe’ would be remaining stuck in the known, even if movement is slow
It would be chasing the wind with nothing to glean
Safe is the familiar, the one to which you say hallelujah!
Bringing comfort with false claims of support
It is the reason your height is no flight

Keeping you stunted, like the cut of the blunted.
If unveiling mysteries and discovering other scenes is what you seek.
I beg of you, send ‘safe’ far away from your keep!
Step out and leap free, spread those arms in thrills.
There’s a whole lot out there, and safe is a cost that’s dear!

Picture Source: www.practical-agile.com

@imanikel 091019 Frances Kelvin Otung

Like Your Child…

Just one of those days, I feel like expressing my love to the Father of Love and just be in His presence without airs.

 

© 2017. Frances Kelvin Otung. All rights reserved.

#LyricalMonday – Mayah

Mayah is my baby, my son has his eyes on her ♥…Mmeme and Ziya, take note. So we have had several discussions every morning she stops by the office before heading to her creche. This was one of such days. By the next poem, I will take you to the next level of our conversation. Enjoy!

©2016. Frances Kelvin Otung. All rights reserved