The end of NaPo

The end of the 30 days is here.
My 30 days of committed poetry writing...
Over.

When I started this, I thought I'd go through it.. Easily. Writing poems day by day.
See, I've always loved poetry. Writing poems is an escape from the ugliness and insensitivity of the world... and boy, was this not the right month in which to write poems daily?
A lot has happened this past month: from fall outs with supposed friends, rekindling of relationships, growth in other friendships and eye openers about life. This month, along with the poetry, has been a huge eye opener..
We are selfish beings, living in a selfish world, consumed in our own selfishness...

I've been using my poetry as an escape from this world, but I've come to realise that maybe being consumed in my writing, was me running away from the world's troubles,, ie. Me being selfish. Me only considering myself and how I feel and what I thing.... Me being a selfish little whore. *(okay, no need to be harsh on yourself Arlana)... - Back to my point: maybe it's time I took a break from writing; maybe it's time I lock up the computer and hide my journal, step out of my room and express myself in the real world; express myself without creating metaphors and similes expecting people to deconstruct them and make sense of them to my degree... - Maybe it's time I looked away from my problems for a second and realise that everyone has something going on. That girl hooking up with with the handful of "swagged" out guys is having a hard time emotionally. She's alone and broken, and searching for companionship. The girl that's getting drunk every weekend has problems at home, in school and socially that she wants to forget. It's better than throwing back a handful of pills and driving herself into a 12 hour comatose state of sleep. See, we all have something going on, but as human being, we tend to just look on the surface and take things for what they appear to be before we even try to understand what's happening beneath all that. This is what humanity has come.... this is what the human race has been brought down to... And I hate it.

I know that we're all going through something and it takes too much time to stop and help someone else carry their baggage. But, having someone help you makes your baggage lighter, you'll reach your destination faster and if the process is repeated the final product can be reached faster. So, instead of perching ourselves behind poems, behind the internet and behind journals, maybe it's time we stepped out and faced what's really going on and try to deal with it.

I'm  glad for the month that was, but I'm striving for change in the month that is. You should too.

It's all light love and finer things. :D
xx Arlana PS

NaPoWriMo: Day 30

I remember my first kiss,
On the swings of a pre-grade play yard,
As nun's stood in surveillance
With whips in hand and smiles on their faces.
The air was fragranced,
With whiffs of fresh lemon zest,
And birds perched on the Jackaranda's sang,
As purple flowers rained down with the wind.

I remember my first love,
On the cement stairs of a convent school
As nun's in white robes watched,
And God's son hung from the roof.
The air was warm and golden,
With a scent of sherbet floating
And pre teen girls and boys seated;
On a graphite stone wall.

I remember my first time
On the white cotton sheets of a bed
As a rosary hung well in sight
And Mary's blessed hands clasped praying for me.
The air was warm and heavy
With a scent of musk masculinity
And clothes wildly torn laying on the floor
As my chest eased in and out; back arching in arousal.

Written by: Arlana Panduleni Shikongo

NaPoWriMo: Day 29

Miss Lacey Ackleberry,
Told stories of a life very
Intriguing of a girl with English pun,
Living in a city most metropolitan.

Neither well behaved nor naughty
Her air remained most haughty.
Though the gentlemen assumed the act,
The Ackleberry name stayed intact.

NaPoWriMo: Day 28

   Not to cry aloud;

When you want to cry
But so hard you try
Not to.

Salt lakes build up wells;
Eye lids start to swell,
cry aloud.

Your whole face pulls down
Mouth a lopsided frown,
sit alone

There is a sunbeam inside,
A happy gleam you hide,.
And smile. 

NaPoWriMo: Day 27

It was a very simple image
of black and white
of three odd faces
that lacked two eyes.
Masked men with hands,
A woman or two,
With one finger up
Pointed to the roof.

The art work wasn't there,
or lacked to appear.
But blank eyes told a story
that I couldn't hear.
"Fear not the darkness'
Said a man in a robe,
With a scarf on his head
And his tongue in his throat.

More sinister was the being
Or the thing, I should say
With a smile to its cheeks
And skin like the day;
Missing eyes stared at me
In a peculiar way
Sending chills through the shadows
And the morning away.

In rips and rags
The baby stood tallest,
In the dim of the light
She seemed the smallest.
Smirk on her face;
The most devious grin
Her eyes gave away,
The most bloodcurdling sin.

Thus picture or portrait
The intent was there
For an infamous artist
No life to spare.
Twas a very simple image
Which eyes he removed
So the victim could not witness
And proclaim the news.

Written by: Arlana Panduleni Shikongo

NaPoWriMo: Day 26

A beautiful, black woman,
Rocks back and forth in a wooden chair,
Perched in a small cottage
Of a seaside town
Where the wind was cold and wise.

Her grey hair grew out,
And tucked remained in a scarf,
Her brown eyes faded,
Her brown skin wrinkled,
And the blue skies were seen in her eyes.

The morning was chilly,
And the sun lit the path golden
As muscle men carried,
A white casket down an isle
To the shadows of an oak tree in it's depth.

Laid in cool sand,
with flowers as a blanket
We laid her to rest,
With God,
With Love,
with Life.

NaPoWriMo: Day 25

  Negro Sun

Sun and softness
Dark ones of Africa
Black slaves
Working in the hot sun,
Hide and are hidden

Sweet as purple dew
All the corners that are left.
Them cool green leaves.
No flowers from the store,
I've been a slave.

 

 Compilation taken from Langston Hughes "selected poems".

NaPoWriMo: Day 24

Men only listen to voices,
Which sing songs of humor,
Or live to liven up dull choices
Then write memoirs of rumor.

Lipogram: refrain from using the letter "a"

 

NaPoWriMo: Day 23

A sun scorched, coal tree
With summer squeezed lemonade
Bares the winter breeze.

NaPoWriMo: Day 22

Thorns thick
Prick
me.
Stickily.
Like fine hairs on a Delphinium King Arthur.
Licking
tightly;
my skin.
Lapping
Purple dust on my thigh.
Oh fine plant, of fine hairs,
which:
Prick
me.
Stickily.