Poetry

IF TEARS COULD ONLY SPEAK

I lived the moment I died.
I journeyed the moment I slept.
I knew places my legs touched not.
I drank the dew of the moons,
I got lost in the open,
And I fed from tables’ remnants

I used to be revered by million smiles
To be held by pristine solace
To be called honey.
I used to be…
Nothing more than this but I had parents.


They pledged to themselves seven lifetimes together,
They pledged to themselves the golds of nirvana,
They pledged to themselves forever and a day,
But now, where are they?
Unpledged, you guessed right. Such is life, uh yh.

I was parcelled like a pearl to a swine
When I was ten (I’m a girl).

I dreamt of savoury appetencies,
I dreamt of London bridge,
I dreamt of fantasy’s reality
While I dined with the rays of the sun.
I dreamt of…Uhm… let’s just end here.

I died the moment I was born;
I lived the moment I died,

But life itself is an antinomy
Of what is unknown.

I wish to celebrate my dad.
Sorry, cancel that line.
I wish to celebrate my mum.
Sorry, cancel that line as well.

How can I celebrate them
When I have a fatherless child? (from a rape).
It seems my destiny is intertwined with theirs.
Should I leave my girl to follow suit?

If tears could only speak…
Advise me ‘cos the pain I’m going through…

©TurksonQuills, 2021.

#helpagirlchild

Poetry

WITHOUT THE SIRENS

Without the sirens,
Our fathers heard the marriage bells.
Dear wind,
Please ferry this plaint to
The sons and daughters
Whose umbilical cords knew this soil,
Tell them,
Yes tell them
That to be someone else is expensive,
And ask them
To choose between the apparels weaved with our toil
And the garments that swam the sea.

Without the sirens,
Our fathers heard the marriage bells.

Just remember this.

©TurksonQuills

Poetry

BEFORE THE CATHEDRALS

Before the cathedrals,
We knew good and evil.
Before the cathedrals,
We knew the way to our GOD.
Before the cathedrals,
We knew.
What happened to us,
Sons and daughters of the soil?
Why did we call our sacred land evil?
Why did we call our cultural values primitive?
Why did we look down on ourselves?

We’ve allowed people kill our essence.
How do we then enjoy the fruits of our land?

Before the cathedrals,
Our oaks knew.

©TurksonQuills