Love

 

Somewhere inside the jungle of my heart, you have a pride.

Roaming aimlessly, yet carefully,

You trod on beats that keep me alive.

A pun wouldn’t describe with effect how effectively

Your being makes my being a being but,

Your being brings a being inside of me that has never been.

From seconds till the ends of the earth,

And all the zillion other numbers coined by numerical enthusiasts,

You still manage to come first in my life;

And even so, maintain that position.

My heart doesn’t beat for you, it can’t beat without you.

Incomplete and void, are how I feel when there's no you.

And though my surface is demure, my spirit is at a far end;

Separated from me, yanked from my being.

Because you have left the foot prints of your gallivanting in my heart,

 It hurts to watch you go, So bad, it burns.

But, I will leave you to find peace where peace has called you.

Sleep on my beloved, for my heart will go on that door...

Writers Block

Monday morning and it was the twenty fifth day of the month. Zoba had planned the month to go real straight and smooth for her. Basically, she would have enough time to finish up her book which she had started since the beginning of the year and couldnt continue because of exams and school. Of course, her ideas were still as fresh as ever because she was writing her own autobiography. She wanted to start it when she was still very yong so that everyday, she would add something new to it but, due to lack of time, she couldnt.

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Cold as the morning, fresh breeze waltzed into Carmela's room. The sun, a beautiful orange with some hues of yellow, welcoming the day and the dew that fell on the flowers reminded one of tears that roll down a cheek...

.

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The rainbow ushered in a new smile on her face and she accepted that she was through with all the clumsiness and sadness she had taught herself to feel. She embraced what looked like a good life after all the hurtful experiences she had had. Her relationships were'nt working and her job was no longer paying. Who eevn said that crap about V-logging again?

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On and on and on and on I go everyday when something strikes me on the way to school, with my first spoon o rice travelling down my throat, during choir rehearsals, when Im about to put off the lights of the house and go to sleep. All these things come to me as sizzling and hot as they are but, some times, they just come around my head and do some little barbie dances and waltz out again. This is the life of a writer and this is what is known as the writer's block. 

Dont ever insult a writer. You read something you dont like, say it as nicely as you can because it really is not easy to make people read what you wrote and even enjoy it.

Thanks for reading!

RIA

Blue skies, green grasses, calm wind, sunny skies; a perfect weather for two. Sky scrappers, ferris wheels, spas, studios, eateries, hotels and every place else in the world and she chose the beach. The one place where the sun and skies and sea come together to play. She said she wanted to feel close to nature and off we went.

I loved Ria with everything I had. She was my peace, my hope, my joy, my life. She made life perfect for me and whether I liked it or not, she called the shots in my heart and everything I needed in life, I found in her. 

Her smile made the world stop and her laugh. Oh! The melody in my heart when that music begins. 

Ria made me want to be complete again. She reminded me of beauty and of life and of everything good. I wanted to have this feeling for ever. I wanted us to last for ever and moreover with her, I felt I had found my missing rib.

At the beach, we laughed and played and ran around and became babies again.

I loved Ria and Ria loved me too.

Our love was complete and on the same day, she said "yes" to me.

Mazi Ngada

Mazi Ngada was a nonsense man. The whole village knew him to be a drunk and a talkative. Most times, his tongue reeled out insults and unncessary chants to people in form of greetings and at other times, well, there really isnt any other time. He was always seen clutching a bottle of beer and oh, the odour that jumped out of his dirty mouth when he spoke to you was over whelming. Enough for you to fly into a nearby gutter. He was never sober although maybe, on rare occassions, you could find him sober but, he was clearly indistinguishable. He would rant on and on and on about nonsense and would gladly eplain to you that his nonsense was much more sense than all the sense you thought you had. A ttending social functions was a big problem because he would disgrace himself and everything he represented even before the evnt started. His life began and ended in the bottles he carried about like babies in diapers. 

He was also an ugly man. People likened him to orangutans and really, taking a closer look at him would assure you of that. His nose took a dive and almost fought desperately for space close to his already protruding upper lip. He was bald but, still made sure he stuck to his punk hairstyle. He also had marks all over his face. People concluded easily that there were scars that were left on his face courtesy all the gutters he had fallen into while drunk and his ears were like those of the hobbits in the movie, THE HOBBITS. I pitied his wife and son so much that sometimes, I said daily prayers for them. It wasnt easy for such a nuisance to be associated with you. Especially in this part of the world and especially when the person is as close as a husband or a father. The embarrassment he could cause by just appearing at a place was disheartening...

You would think your life was a disaster until you become the child of son a disgrace to manhood.

Yes, my name is Nduka and Mazi Ngada is my father.