EDGARD THE BARD: RHEMA

EDGARD THE BARD: RHEMA:  Alone A visitor wherever I go. No one I can call, No one I can open up to No one to run to Alone Seeking refuge; WhatsApp, Instagram, TikTo...

RHEMA

 Alone

A visitor wherever I go.

No one I can call,

No one I can open up to

No one to run to

Alone

Seeking refuge;

WhatsApp, Instagram, TikTok, Facebook

Scattered monotones screech through my phone

Alone

Searching for a home;

Searching for someone I can hold

Alone

Veil untorn,

Always walking blindfolded,

Always in a state of known unknown,

A speck of sand surrounded by a seashore...

...Rhema

Always smiled at me

Hugged me and kissed me.

Always missed me

Teased me, held me lovingly.

Always had an affinity for me

Always been there for me

Rhema

A never-ending mystery...

Always been with me;

In joy and sorrow,

In victory and defeat,

In the basking of a sunny day

In the hypothermia of a frozen night

Rhema

Always confides in me;

Tells me deep-breasted secrets,

Shows me past, present, and future glories 

Rhema

Frequently reminds me;

There is more to life than what I see

There is more in me if I believe

I wear a crown of glory daily

Rhema

I hear her voice clearly

A gentle whisper carried by a cool breeze;

Over hills, over valleys,

In the mistiness of a raging storm

In the pin-drop silence of a sleepless night,

In the gurgle and crackle of dancing shadows

Rhema

I feel her in every heave of my chest

I feel her in every tingle under my skin

I feel her cut through every bone and sinew

I feel her gush out from the depths of my soul

I feel her hold me, never letting go

EDGARD THE BARD: Dear Michelle

EDGARD THE BARD: Dear Michelle:  I stood idly by All the messages I did not reply All the moments I closed my eyes To your silent cry. I did not protect you, I did not look...

Dear Michelle

 I stood idly by

All the messages I did not reply

All the moments I closed my eyes

To your silent cry.

I did not protect you,

I did not look after you

Like I was supposed to.

Time and time again

I abetted abuse

To misuse you;

I enlightened eyes to undress you.

I looked aside

When the disheveled hair on the chest

Pricked you.

I held my nose

When the musky scent of sweat

Nauseated you.

I clapped for him

I did not reprimand him

The first time.

I did not throw him out

The second time.

I feigned absence

When he came into your room 

The third time.

I thought your smiles were genuine

I thought you locked your room

To pray and read your books,

I thought you asked for paracetamol

To relieve the pain of Saskatchewan's toll.

Nothing I do can bring back what you lost back then

Nothing I write can numb your pain.

Nothing but Grace can make you feel whole again.

 

 

THE STRUGGLING ARTIST

PART 1

Alien,

Unchosen, Un-deemed

Un-sensed, Un-promised.

Alien,

Untried, Denied.

Qualified Unqualified.

Alien,

The guitar strums mute whispers

Notes linger aimlessly

Floating along verandas of empty laboratories

Alien,

Bristles vow silence.

Grey confirmed scarlet

Silver lines dissolve into charcoal blue;

A kaleidoscopic mat indulges filled pews

Alien,

The hands of Engalabi frozen for all time,

No longer a master's piece.

Baksimba's legs glued together

At ease!

No longer a guest at the dance.

PART 2

2...5...6, 2...5...6...

It was the only number he could call. He had not the courage to type the final digits. The phone stayed trapped in his unrelenting, unmoving palm. His fist, clenched as hard as a rock. Was it that his call would not be answered? Was it that there would be silence at the other end of the line? Was the proprietor of the voice wronged or was it that she was indifferent? He could not remember. Gulp! A balled-up substance forcefully made its way down his throat. He picked up the courage to try again...

2...5...6, 2...5...6...

Hello...

OWN TIME

 Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. You Tube, Tik Tok, Snap Chat. Friend or foe? 

An old boy from the University posts a photo of his exploits in South Africa. He got 2 points at A level. An old girl from high school posts her wedding photos. She smiles, waving her large ring. Next to her stands a handsome man. They say he is a manager of a high-flying institution. He drives a range rover. "She isn't even that pretty, her gown is oba how?" A preacher, on his channel; 10,000 views. "He does not even speak good English". On your channel, 8 views and 3 subscriptions. You are "deeper" than he is. 

Is social media a friend or a foe?

Neither actually. Social media is what you make it. It can either be a growth opportunity, or an opportunity to develop a strain on your temple, a lump in your throat, and a clog in your heart. 

Worry not my dear one. Each individual on this earth has his or her own path to follow.

Each one on his own road,

Traversing a land

Never discovered before.

Each in its own time,

Hour hands strike

One at a time.

Each in its own season,

There's no confusion

Between rain and sunshine.

A poem by Edgard The Bard

Your time will come. Keep on doing what is right. Seek God, give Him your time. Work hard, work smart. Let your gifts shine before men, and in time, they will shine before Kings and Queens. Keep learning, keep reading, keep growing, keep searching, keep serving...keep loving. 

Keep believing; YOUR TIME WILL COME!

For everything, there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time of war and a time of peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NLT 

SHE LINGERS

 

She lingers...

In nifty corners,

In plantations,

In corporations.

A thief in the night

Awake in daylight's shadows,

With a despicable plight.

Patiently,

She lingers...

Ready to pounce 

On those who linger;

Their backs turned,

Facing the trigger.

Blow your whistles oh, laymen.

Don't cast your feet upon the linen path!

For there,

She waits...

She prays:

"Piece by piece

Limb from limb

Soul, from spirit"

She lingers...

The moon, alight,

The day, scorching bright.

Swaying her hips,

Licking her lips:

"Oh, the time to devour is nigh!"

A poem courtesy of the book One Last Smoke by Edgard The Bard