Tag: Murtin Juen

The first in a series of short independent poems…

You can call it a package of micro poems … enjoy!

When I see her gravitate towards me.

Very uncomfortable I feel.

It’s all because of her hills.

Not her heels beneath south.

But the one pointing east.

And the other facing west.

It makes me shudder with passion.

When her hills quake with violence…

@MurtinJuen.

Yesterday is a fade.

Today is a new cake.

Take your blade.

Cut your portion.

Let’s celebrate.

@MurtinJuen.

Poetry is noise, sounds and voices.

Garnished with words and phrases, shared.

With yourself and your world.

Your world, your peers.

Your world, your lovers and haters.

Your ‘huswife’…

The audience…

@MurtinJuen.

I had love for her.

She never knew, it was hidden, growing, until.

I never knew she wanted me a brother.

I never knew she wanted me, not a lover.

She had love for me.

I  never knew, it was hidden, growing, until.

she never knew I wanted her a sister.

she never knew I wanted her, not a lover.

@MurtinJuen.

When my eyes see you through the fire stone.

And you still can’t see me love you through the flames.

If I meet you again, I will look at you.

Like this…

You are strange to me.

@MurtinJuen.

Those moments when you sincerely didn’t mean it.

But it was too late.

And you continue to ask for forgiveness.

Not with clapping lips…

But with falling streams from your eyes.

And you are really sorry…

@MurtinJuen.

If love was forbidden in my world.

I don’t know how I will cope.

Because songs of love from the Bible.

Taught me it was a beautiful cup everyone should drink from.

If love was forbidden in my world.

I don’t know how I will survive.

Because songs of love from the Bible.

Taught me love was God’s way to mend and revive us…

…to be continued

@MurtinJuen…

Wealthy, but childless.

Healthy, but friendless.

Rediculed here and there!

Because the womb is bare. Branded…

Silent at family sittings.

What she suffers, not fitting.

Sits in the garden.

Wonders, am I barren?

“Oh”, she says, ” what a burden”.

What she suffers, not fitting.

Earnest prayers, what she offers.

Answers …she need, …just tommorow.

Her mornings…….. Memories and sorrow.

If possible a baby will she borrow.

What she suffers, not fitting

As she laments, here he comes.

A loving husband. Hash tagged…

What he suffers, not fitting.

In his dreams, he’s called daddy.

Hopefully waiting to foldle a baby someday.

Gently returns from work on Monday.

He knocks… and there is a cry…

Guess what!

Not a baby, its a puppy.

To alleviate her pains,

Sweetly he sings to his heart,

I love you, I love you…

His singing revives her mortal remains…

The love bell sweeps away her pains.

Never to be remembered again …

But for a moment…

What she suffers…

The love of her husband

rains healing to her falling bones.

She never faints… But for…

A moment…

But the pieces of lovely pecks

And kisses from her husbands lips

Stamps simple dimpled smiles on her cheeks…

She responds…

“You are the joy of my life, my husband,

Yes, what I suffer is not fitting

but what I’m offered is soo pleasing”.

@MurtinJuen…

No confidence but I cared.

Wish we were paired, well she fared.

A rib of my ribs wish she were.

At her sides were two friends, hills.

Can’t forget her reds,     …lips.

Who will feed mine with some tips.

The feeling was getting deep but…

Can’t have her… Can’t get close.

Do I need a Rose? Maybe…

To catch a glimpse of her, through the gates…

I peep…

She leaves close, it’s a new residence.

Can’t get close. Why? ….No confidence.

I don’t care… …No! I’m joking…

Deep within… … slowly am dying?

Convinced within, I see a pretty future.

But can’t have it… Why?

My nature…

No confidence, …but I wished…

@MurtinJuen…

I’m yet to fall.

And I am yet to fall for real.

I’ve had my fair share of unfulfilled dreams.

My love is yet to be stretched down the stream.

But when I survive the stretch.

I will write a script and make a film.

To share the story of how it all begun…

It started one day when I was a teacher.

I was a confidant and a preacher.

But these three professions could not.

They couldn’t fetch me her heart.

I lost to another tutor.

And in my disappointment.

My feelings went back to sleep…

It started another day when I was a teacher.

I was the Name-List officer.

I remember the  General Elections.

I was partner to the Electoral Commission.

Her name was Adrien Hennison.

And I couldn’t go any further.

And in my disappointment.

My feelings went back to sleep…

It continued that day when I was teacher.

I was also an advisor.

And we got closer.

And I gave many advises.

And she got close to the heart.

And situations went separate ways.

I stuck to the original purpose.

I wasn’t disappointed that much.

And I asked my feelings to search.…

A child I was.

All I knew was rain rain go away,

Little children want to play.

I left home very early,

Abandoned my chores, summoned my boys.

They brought some balls.

We headed the park.

Everyone had a skill to display.

We played and replayed.

I hadn’t eaten, I wasn’t hungry.

I was full with excitement.

We played and it was late and we played

Then I saw a man from a distance.

He had daddy’s resemblance.

I started to run, it was daddy.

I hurried through to hide.

I found a Ghanaian bath house.

I am safe, I thought, a child I was.

I was panting when daddy grabbed my ass.

I couldn’t save me, helpless.

He dragged me home,

He gave me pain.

It was a metal cane, I remember.

My arms ached.

I took my bath, washed my tears.

Angry, I was very hungry.

I endured the pain, slept, woke up today.

And I’m a child again.

All I know is rain rain go away

Go away.

Little children want to play.

@MurtinJuen…

A short poem to goose your thoughts…

That was my first time;

I never saw a lizard flying to catch a butterfly over the wall.

How?

How uninteresting the world will be

if we had just one colour to see.

What interesting songs a womanizer will sing

if it was right to wed every female finger with rings.

How the sun will burn our beings

as we continue to kill the trees.

How Africa will rise beyond a million degree,

if he scraps the schools billion fees.

If their land is clean, check the bins on the street, Africa.

How?

What chaos there will be

if all creatures had wings,

including the sea and its beings.

How healthy the vein

that eats the green over again

How happy the saint who meets Jesus face-to-face

How snappy the snail

if every delay had a price to pay.

Tortoise will fly,

if static speed attracted a moment without breath.

How Bolt Usain would have bolted pass the plane

if speed meant everlasting life.

How?

Marry a wife, keep her to your side,

enjoy her, everyday, she is a gift.

How the earth would have quaked in pain

if it welcomed only sun and detested rain.

That was my first time…

I was walking by the mountain.

Then I started jumping.

I didn’t know why.

My heels wanted to jump over the hill.

How?

How sinful, men will be if we had many lives to see.

There is only one life to live.

So be…

@MurtinJuen…

Then I came home and it continued

She was all over and I was blind

I was recounting the teacher days

She is the synonym of a wife

She will smile first and then

She will laugh at all my jokes

We ate from the same bowl

She took my fish in her palm

I had a big meat

And she will make fun of me

Until another snatched

And I proposed, and it was too late

When I was here you were elsewhere

“Your nose’’, she says

She was a school mate

And my feelings had to relate by blood

Then I visited the Garden girl

She was alone, I thought

I was wrong, I should have waited

She belongs so I backed out

But I wished she came my way

She had a thread and a needle

She could have mended my heart

But I cherish the friendship

And my feelings rested

And then it started when I was a loner

She was an angel sent to give life

She gave me support like a wife

I was a brother and she wasn’t my sister

And she saw signs of lust, I guess

She run for her life, but it wasn’t lust

It was love hidden, growing, until

I never knew she wanted me a brother

I never knew she wanted me, not a lover

And the Lusting Love drove her away

And my heart is searching. Hoping we meet someday.

But the Next time it starts again

Victory and smiles will come my way

And my heart will no longer search but rest…

…lets continue when it starts again

@MurtinJuen…

When I want to massage my mind, I waste ink.

With paper’s help I goose my head, massage!

As I sneeze ink, paper collects, cleans.

I sneeze and the words adjust, lines rotate.

I fill out the sheet and the lines go waste, massaging.

Fingers grow weary…………doodling.

But my mind sees, sees beyond my eyes

and hips hills of logos to my feet.

Floods my head with occeans of words down to my seat

Then…

I feel bumps bumping gooses accross the skins of my veins.

Wonderings…

Thoughts, capabilities and dots of possibilities…

Thought…ful sisters envelop my brains

and I can’t stop…

I find new strength as her sheets go waste,

Don’t know why…

Countless cancellations, my push ups to new heigths,

Don’t know why…

My mistakes, my dreaded keys to new frontiers

And I don’t know why it is so……… Soo massaging…. ‘ashhh’!

I continue to massage, then meaning starts teasing beauty through

Spreads her legs across the sheet, peeping through… the doodles…

And she leads me on ….

But times many times the ones above disagree

Free me I prayed, I cried…. and I’m not free

And they fight me, fight me until we agree to massage me…

And we agree, its healing

As I follow the lines, the clock thicked

My soul wearied, but she wants

Why me? Massaging me. I want to stop and… She won’t, she wants, more of me…… ‘muhh’….

When I want to massage my mind, I waste ink

With Paper’s help………. Write…