ONE DAY I’LL WRITE ABOUT HER.

I know that one-day I will write about her lips; how they trembled when she mumbled goodbye on that evening of our first encounter.

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28TH APRIL. SATURDAY. 1343HRS.

The training of volunteers at Songa Mbele in South B, Nairobi by Vitabu Vyetu organization had ended. The session was exciting and everyone seemed eager to undertake the task ahead. The clouds overhead were trying their best to block the sun, and one could tell that it might rain anytime. We hurried to the bus stage to board CBD-bound vehicle. We had met at the training and we would be working in the same group. She was about five feet tall, with an athletic agile body, attractive symmetrical face and tempting lips. There was something interesting about her, something I cannot pin any word on.

At the stage we found an almost full vehicle, settled in our seats. She took the window seat and I sat next to her. Three more passengers got in and then we set off.

“My best hobby is nature walk. I like to walk alone. In the woods, along a lonely path. And I will keep walking as long as there is the promise of a waterfall at the end of the road and the sounds I hear are of the birds, not of the noisy confusions of this world. The gentle wind that sways the pine trees, making gentle music with their whistling leaves; always embrace me like their own. I immensely enjoy the still ambience and the beauty that every part of my body syncs with and appreciates…”
Her description of her favorite hobby was of a place very familiar to me, and I could relate with the excitement in her voice.

‎In many situations that involve human interactions, I have been a misfit. Maybe it is because I cannot bring myself to master the rules of hypocrisy that characterize relationships. Maybe it is because I lack the strength to wear the ego centered ‘tough’ façade everyone is putting on. And either way, they have tried to prove that the problem is in me. Only in my own arms and in the hands of nature have I found acceptance and peace.

She had stopped talking and was looking at me.
“I understand.” I said, almost in whispers. She smiled.
“What is there to be understood? I was simply telling you about my best hobby.” She said teasingly and moved her left hand as if to play with my ear but then withdrew. Maybe she thought against it and considered it too early to make such physical contact.
“I understand what it feels like to go for a nature walk. It is an escape from the noise and dram of everyday life.” I paused, grinned and winked at her. She giggled and then I added, “I do go for nature walk sometimes. My favorite place in the City is Karura.”
“What? That my favorite too! I do go there after a fortnight.”

There were many things about my memorable adventures I wanted to tell her. Like walking along unfamiliar paths without fear of getting lost, being all alone in the woods and feel most loved and contented. Watching how helpless and powerful the waterfall falls. The freedom and the power you suddenly realize you can possess. But I bottled the excitement, my eyes became watery and I simply looked at her.
“Wow! I never thought anyone would understand that. Especially someone from this generation where everything we do, what we feel and how we perceive things are mere reactions to other peoples actions. Some time in my past, I tried to keep up with the masses and it was exhausting. I therefore curved my own path and vowed to walk alone. Over time, I have realized that I complete myself and my place was not in the masses anyway. I love being alone, a lot.”

“Brilliant observation, but I don’t share your sentiments.” I joked. She was a free spirit.
“I know you share my sentiments.”
‘How?”
“Your eyes, they are not good and keeping things secret.” She replied and we laughed.
“The part of ‘you love being alone, a lot’, is it a warning?” I asked her, stressing on ‘a lot’.
“Mmmh…Maybe. You might consider it so.” She said lamely and looked through the window.

When we reached town it started to rain. We took shelter in the nearby restaurant.

I know that one day I will write about her. I will write about the first encounter. About the excitement in her voice when she talks about the flavors of the cakes she love. About the passion in her eyes when she describes the things she like to do. I know that one-day I will write about her lips; how they trembled when she mumbled goodbye on that evening of our first encounter.
©poetdismas

A PART OF YOU THAT IS NEVER MINE.

Only in the poems I compose do I own a piece of you.

Some poems I compose have to be about you.
Some drawings have to be a picture of you.
For you are a beauty every artist would want to capture.
You are a beauty every man would want to treasure.

We kissed on every page; deep and slow, as I scribbled on till the ink dried up.
I painted your lips, curved your hips and-
Caressed your breast with every stroke of the brush.
We even toured France to celebrate our romance with a dance,
You rested your head on my chest,
And every moment with you was golden.

Then the poem came to an end and I had to place the last full stop,
The painting was complete and I had to whisper my goodbyes;
You make art interesting coz everything about you is a masterpiece.
But I have to face the truth, in real life you’ll never be mine.
Only in the poems I compose do I own a piece of you.
Only in the drawings I make do I own a piece of you.
©poetdismas2018

I DON’T WANT TO STOP WANTING YOU.

But, if I get you I won’t want you and I don’t want to stop wanting you.

Maybe I was meant to live in the shadow of your love. To touch you; but never to hold you. To smile with you; but not to give you the happiness you deserve. To see you every day, and dream about you every night, but never to possess you. Maybe fate brought you to me, to tease me, to show me how wrong I’ve always been in thinking that I can win every battle. Maybe, nature wants to teach me that I am still not perfect, not perfect to own you. And maybe if I stay strong; if I don’t let the emptiness of wanting you consume me, then nature might teach me to accept my imperfections.

I look into your eyes every moment, and honestly, the feeling that you were meant to be mine is too strong to be wrong. I just don’t understand why the vibes aren’t right. Trust me I am everything you are looking for, except if you’re looking for a saint.

To you, and only you, I have put down my pride. And over again I have chosen you. Even when it was apparent that I’ve suffered enough for you and I had the option of walking away, I still choose you. And in this very moment when I am writing this poem, I know there is another whose love you seek. It is not my place to tell you things about love, never the less, only this I will say; in the end, only my love for you is true. I still choose you. I still want you. And over the time I have realized that nothing will ever change that.

You told me not to wait for you, but hope is still brightly burning in my heart. Yet I know that disappointment awaits me in the end when everything shall have settled. Wanting you is the only thing that feels right for me. It enables me to survive the passing days. It empowers me to face my demons.

When you read this poem, please, do not change your mind and come back. Do not doubt whether trashing me was the right thing to do, though you had no clue. Just stay in the arms of the man in whose arrogance you feel loved. Yes, I still want you and nothing in this world will change that. But, if I get you I won’t want you and I don’t want to stop wanting you.
©poetdismas2018

I’LL GIVE YOU A ROSE INSTEAD.

There is something I’ve wanted to tell you,
But I lack clue on how, when or where to say it.
Those seeking your love are classy and built-
I, im just a dullard with feelings that may be true.

And even if I may get the chance to flirt
I’m not so sure if I would not stammer;
Words may desert me, my vibes may not be right,
So instead, I allow me to send a rose flower.

Tomorrow in the morning, expect my rose,
Kindly place it in a vase near your mom’s.
May its fragrance give you a glimpse of my love to you,
Scribbled on its petals are my solemn vows.
©poetdismas2018

Be My Valentine

Look into my eyes and see the glow
Hold my hands and let’s dance really slow,
Let’s kiss gentle and feel the chemistry.
Rest your head on my chest and listen to my heart beat.

I love you, I love you, I surely do.
I love you with genuine compassion
I love you with noble intention.
It is all in my eyes, I surely do.

Listen to these words from my heart
Though sweet music they may not be-
But I mean every letter I write,
And you’re the only one I want;
My heart aches for you to be my Valentine, today and forever into eternity.
©poetdismas.

The Pledge

Many things shall fade, but I must thrive.

To where my spirit goes I’ll follow. To where my heart belong I’ll stay. For which my faith thrives I’ll bow. For which my longings crave, I’ll pray. 

I have to let go, things I’d love to hold onto forever
I have to let them stay, the things so much I want to throw away…

Beauty come and pass. Like a leaf once young and healthy, it withers and fall.
Silly romance is for the timid souls, who can’t dare walk alone. Who don’t care what their lives are about.

Where my destiny be, I’ll go without delay.
Fate has no power over my spirit, and fear is for the lazy.

I shall remember this vow and obey; to listen to my heart, to follow my spirit, to walk in my faith.
Many things shall fade, but I must thrive.
©poetdismas