WHAT MY MOTHER KNOWS
WHAT MY MOTHER KNOWS
The shape of hunger. Our bellies on days
when my father deserts us like a haunted house.
Our eyes full of hollows on nights when our palms
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WHAT MY MOTHER KNOWS
The shape of hunger. Our bellies on days
when my father deserts us like a haunted house.
Our eyes full of hollows on nights when our palms
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I did not know what to write, I had always searched for the right story everywhere in mind. Then my mother woke me up. It was midnight and the whole village was sleeping.
“Listen…” she whispered to my ear, and I waited for her to talk; she did not.
I thought my ear was not cleaned enough, so I cleaned it again and I waited, and still my mother said no word. I used to be impatient when it came about listening, but my mother’s smile could turn a burning heart into an enchanted garden. Yes, my mother’s smile could.
“Keep calm…” she whispered with that same smile.
I tried but there was that thought; my girlfriend would come for a visit tomorrow, so I kept picturing the lovely day we would spend together. My paper was still white and empty, and the night would end.
“Keep calmer…” again did she whispered.
I thought of a mighty sun that would wipe out the face of my girlfriend and leave an empty room. The room got emptied, and the sun was so mighty that no other image could set a foot in. I was sweating, because of the effort I had to make to fight the first word that would make my story.
“Calmer and calmer…” tenderly she whispered.
I was getting too tired, for the right word was not coming. Then I heard a crow from a distance. “A crow… I thought, what is a crow doing there at this time of the night?” The lonely crow kept calling, no fellow replied. “Is the crow calling?” I asked myself, without thinking of it; I was still waiting for my mother to talk to me. She did not, only the voice of the crow flew in the darkness.
Then I saw the sunlight growing weaker. A little wind caressed my body and dried it and relaxed my mind, I felt a warm hand touching my wrist; when everything go in a deep darkness in my mind, I heard the voice of the crow closer, no longer calling with that dreadful voice, but telling a story with sweetness and harmony.
“I’m inspired!” I screamed with my heart, and my softened wrist started to write the words that where silently coming along.
I knew I had the right story, and that is how I got inspired. It was not the most beautiful story on earth, but it was a perfect one. I looked for my mother in the bed, and I could find her nowhere. My mother was out, not trying to manage a sleepless night; my mother was in her grave managing a sleepless life. And only my writings would take her to Peace.
RAY NDEBI
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My name is Théodore René Ndebi, born in Cameroon. I graduated in Banking Management. But what really makes me proud and happy is WRITING !!!!! I started writing around 1990. I write the most I can.
I mostly write for children’s future. As a child, I had always dreamt of a world where poor children and orphans could be happy as well. I have many unpublished collections in French: Chaque Jour Un Poème, Rêve D’un Soir, La Missive Du Petit Prince, Suis-Je Assez Bien Pour Toi… I’m also author of unpublished novels in French (Cierge Noir, Plus Violent Que L’amour, Les Fruits De La Tempête…). My first published novel; THE LAST GHOST/Son Of Struggle got published in 2013 by AuthorhouseUK; it appears in the LOS Angeles Times Festival Of Books Catalogue 2014 Page 8. Available online @ Amazon, Kindle, AuthorhouseUK, Barnes & Noble, Indie. I wrote numerous award winning texts. I am a Book Reviewer and Translator. I am a member of OneAfricanChild since 2013 and Co-Founder of Le Salon Du Livre Yaounde-Cameroon. You can check my works on: authorrayndebi.wordpress.com.Ray Ndebi on Facebook, @RTNdebi on Twitter, Facebook Page My Soul & Mon Ame.
About how my eyes did the seeing
And how my heart did the falling
My brain is busy wishing
Leaving my eyes to do the crying.
I nearly wrote you a poem
Never knew my heart could beat this fast
While my brain juggled with the die you cast
And thought of possibilities so vast
While my stomach moans the compulsory fast
In which I really cursed cupid
For being so stupid
And making me so livid
For the hurt in my heart which he did.
I tried to write you a poem
In which I extolled your virtues and sang your praise
And hoped that in a matter of days
You would agree to change your wicked ways
And reset my poor heart to its normal pace
To think that I nearly wrote you a poem
With disorganized lines and no structure
To explain that my heart needs a suture
Maybe you need to see the puncture
I suffered when I saw your live picture
To think that I nearly wrote you a poem
In which I am the one in love
And you are the one tantalizing me with love
Never thought I could fall in love
With one who would torment me with love
But, I have written you a poem
In which I climbed up the mountain of logic
Leaving this cursed valley of emotion and magic
Self-deceiving myself that all I need is logic
To save me from a fall so tragic.
And in the poem I wrote
I decided to let you go
Severing brutally the lines of communication
Replacing my heart with nothingness
Hoping logic would save me from a love that makes me weep.
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THE CREATURES OF ELÉDÙMARÈ
OLUTAYO JOY OWOJUYIGBE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
♠A SILENT VOID ♠
Voidness pervades my empty soul
Sadness drums for my legs to dance
The endless longing for your presence
Sings melodious dirges to my heart
I stand at this troubled crossroad looking down the path you took
Will you ever come back?
To the waiting embrace of my caring arms
Shielding you away from those biting rays.
Memories rain sorrow on my being
And endless thoughts of you crumble my wills.
I was a prisoner
Trapped in the barricaded walls of your arms
And I was happy, for you filled my life
With the silent touching of your smile…
Not long, Death came and pushed me out of there
And I was left with emptiness
Because I have emptied my life in you.
The pallbearers, carried my joy shoulder high
To an eternal chasm
Now, I am free, living for nothing
And I was left with emptiness
And I was left with a silent void.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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