I miss my alone times—
where gravity pulls gravid thoughts
down to the bedrock of my solitary land,
where I forage among old pages of deeply buried poems,
scratching invisible marks
into the margins of my arching African poetry.
Alone, I laugh,
wondering what I might have been,
had I never been at all.
My eyes thirst for the ache of moonlight,
while the walls behind me tremble,
their grief laced with silent tears.
But unlike the evicted souls,
I die alone,
long before my moreish smiles are dismantled.
I miss my alone times—
where the vicious whip of Kachikau's winter nights
does not lash me,
where the relentless bells of Chobe's mosquito bites
go unanswered.
I listen only to the music of my lilting brain.
Alone, I am unseen.
Alone, I cannot see you.
Alone, I imagine things
that make sense only to me.
Alone, I own the world.
Alone, I am a victorious victor.
Alone, I never lose.
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Author:
Mpho Leteng (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 12th, 2025 05:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: LP2187
Offline)
Comments2
I really like the theme of the harshness of the world but the goodness we find in time spent alone, this stood out to me.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment, I'm glad the theme resonated with you
No problem, are you Dandy Dour?
A reflection that sometimes time alone can give you a pause from the everyday stresses of life, give you a chance to clear your head. Enjoyed the read
Thank you for your kind words, I am happy you enjoyed the read
You are very welcome
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