Poem – New by Syerramia Willoughby

New
So new
to the red of the harmattan dust
He glistened white all over
following around his mama
walking on the tips of his baby hooves
learning to say baba.
He was all legs and very little body
And what body he had was bony
and new
So new

Poem – On Turning Thirty by Syerramia Willoughby

Maaan!!! I guess you know my age now. Now all you have to do is figure out which year I wrote this. haha!

 

This was supposed to be it!

The end of my legitimate youth
the prelude to my matronly years. More

Poem – Attraction by Syerramia Willoughby

My fragrant hair oil
draws the malaria-infecting mosquito
not to bite
but buzz around
forming the perfect halo
above my braided crown.

Poem – A Decade Behind by Syerramia Willoughby

Born the wrong end of a decade
Yet he made my pulse play keepy-uppy
My embroidered visage, such a contrast
to his juvenile looks. More

Poem – The Dark Continent by Syerramia Willoughby

Is an odd continent is Africa
where one tribe of people
can be strung out in different countries
from the Sahel to the Atlantic. More

Poem – The Origin of Hope by Syerramia Willoughby

I lay there-
A shrivelled mass half-submerged in a mudpool
A drunken vagrant tunnelled in ragged blankets
Glassy eyes staring into a faraway never never universe More

Poem – Untitled (Tsunami) by Syerramia Willoughby

In the rapturous morning
a plague curses
raining down villainy.
I hide under the sheets
sobbing.

Poem – Untitled (Uh! Uh! Uh!) – by Syerramia Willoughby

Bitching boys cry
‘Uh! Uh! Uh!
Let me play you for a dollar!’
Why me, I wonder.
Their nursery vision
never expands with
age’s maturity.

Poem – Unrequited Love by Syerramia Willoughby

Curling shadows creep surreptitiously
in the land of sumptuous abundance
calling your name.
You don’t answer.
I don’t cry.

As shadows uncurled are relegated
to the invisible, the land of sumptuous
abundance neglects past regrets.
I smile.

Poem – Fast Mau by Syerramia Willoughby

If you know even a little bit at all, you will be acquainted with the fact that I am a huge athletics geek. Therefore what is more natural that writing about it? Even the most fickle athletics fan from the noughties will know all about the former Olympic Champion Maurice Greene from USA.

Remember the tongue?

Do you remember all this pre-race routine on the start-line? For me, it beats Usain Bolt’s antics. Well, that’s what inspired this poem. 

With leonine supremacy and fearsome restlessness
He paces up and down his cage
Just a foot wide, yet 100m long More

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Disclaimer

Just so you know, apart from the photos I've taken myself, none of the photos belong to me, but are freely available are on the internet.
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