BEJANA for Life: 2010-05-09

Confession of the Grieve

(*)

..I've asked someone to leave. Instead of being relieved, I feel grieved..
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(#)

Long

Sharp shadow

Come

From the dark

And the bass string

Of my guitar

Breaks
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(*)

As Light faded slowly

Shadow swept my tears

The broke of the string left me in silence

Though words of Light whispering still
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(#)

But like love

The words

Are blind!

Who used to look at herself

So long

In the fountain
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(*)

But love - in longing for Light - wasn't blind, said she

For the Light itself shined so bright,
Too bright that it could only be seen by others but she
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(#)

In the night you see

The window tremble with joy

While you slowly embroider

A difficult letters

To say

You love him
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(*)

The Light, Sir...

Put this love of mine on the string

On the string till it breaks...

No I could never come to declare

The Light, Sir, it never belongs to me
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Dearest Maids

Like it’s been said
The further you seek, the less should you laid
You searched for a maid
Helped you cope your sanity, yet more games be played
Yelled on things, spelled on affairs
Well maids ain’t machines, there’s a life she bears
Desired for riches
Hunted for treasures
Hopping up the distance
She’s there as an instance
Bet you took her to truth or dare
Did you think she’s just a fare
Salient, aren’t you, took her as a minor
Forgot, haven’t you, how she unrest in your prior
Her hair so lovely
Dark, black and shiny
Beautiful, you thought, while dragging her hair
The more she cried, the more you said she is fair
Amazed by her skin
You touched her from chin
What was next, you knew, then banged her to the wall
The fairy fainted, you smiled, watched her tears fall
She made you tea, bend on her knees
You said a ‘Gee’ as you rubbed her tees
Tried to peek through her door
There she lied on the floor
Nearly died she was,
But freedoms don’t come fast
Lack of ideas on stealing her beauty
You took the iron and swab her slowly
As if the cigars couldn’t do much
You took the fuel and burnt her like branch
No wonder like what’s been said
To hell it has this world turned plaid
We believe there’s more like you
Nasty and cruel just like you do
We believe there’s more like you
So sad, a pity, still lots in mute

.Dorothea Diba.