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

THE SUICIDE NOTE

I stopped writing the moment you left.
You were my inspiration for every single word I thought of.
I loved the desire of your eyes when they looked at me.

Many a time, I felt your hug was the safest haven (tears flow from eyes).
Since you left,
I’ve swum in reverie thinking we were a thing,
Thinking we were a bliss,
Thinking we were better than hatred’s abyss,
But I dreamt of a fallacy—we were just a fling.

Days birthed—crawled—walked into the lair of years,
And years gave up the salt for new dawns.
Love, I still held you close to my heart.
If there was something I did,
You should’ve told me,
But you chose to walk the aisle of the dumb.

Why, why did you leave?

My love began and ended with you.
Death is whispering its silent, ebullient, melodies in my ears

Pen drops in pain—moves to the noose.

‘the silent estate welcomes a new soul’

©TurksonQuills

Poetry

WAILING QUILL

Have you ever seen words

That pierce the heart like arrows,

Or a nest inhabiting not birds,

But a crowd of bedfellows?

Maybe, just maybe a yes.

I met her on the sunshine of March.

Perhaps shining, but she was an angel of mess.

She seemed a perfect match

With glows of the august colours of petals.

Her aura defined betrayal’s serenity,

For her beauty portrayed meaning of lethal

Outlining its sin to love’s eternity.

She made my heart bleed

the inks of a wailing quill

© TurksonQuills

#SAFE