baby fat

They tell me ‘he’s beautiful’,

‘He has dreamy skin’

and ‘a perfect smile’.

Some even say, ‘I could just eat him up’.

I nod and smile.

The sweat around the folds of my belly

streaming,

uncomfortably in the spot where my son sits on my hip.

A constant reminder of the ravages of pregnancy

And what happens

when the baby fat simply refuses to budge.

I smile

even though my soul longs

for the body it used to inhabit…

the bind

When everything hurts,
dancing in the rain
just doesn’t feel the same.
Mingled tears taste different
when the heart is heavy.
The poisonous stench of anger
clings to my skin
like an unwanted gift.
The aura of your presence
an absent reminder, daily.
Trudging through messy memories
that refuse to leave my mind’s eye.
Like a movie on repeat,
my imagination playing tricks on me.
Sadness envelopes us as I miss the simple passing of beauty.
I search your eyes for a flicker of something
to pacify my disbelief.
Stuck in this space of gloom.
Unable to move
Because our ring binds me to you;
you to me
Burdened by my pensive hands.
Restrained.

you’re never out of my imagination

I only have to close my eyes and I’ll soon start crying again
My silence is heavy upon me,
Thoughts of you fill my head all the time
It’s funny how someone I haven’t even met can affect my life so
I look forward to the day when we will meet
Will you have my ears or my smile?
Will you have his big brown eyes?
You leave me wondering …

You keep me awake at night with your conversations
I sing you songs to make you sleep
I tell you stories of a time you’ll soon experience
I cannot hide you anymore as each day I swell more and more, bearing witness of your imminent arrival.
You leave me wondering …

It’s only a matter of time till the accident of birth when we’ll meet
I wonder what it will be like
I pray it’s easy and quick
I find no answer in your mumblings inside me
Still, you leave me wondering,
Never out of my imagination.

 

 

maybe, never

the thought of owning the bruises in your eyes.

the cracks of your broken heart

through the unspoken words

of promises,

of things i should be,

but can’t bear to be

in your life right now,

maybe never.

is simply too much.

these thoughts cuts deep.

guilt riddles me

like a hunger you dare me to feed.

the thought of hearing your voice

in my mind’s eye

before i go to sleep

pleading with me ‘to try one more time’

to be things i can’t be

and would probably never bear to be

in your life right now,

maybe never.

i am not hate.

nor do i respond to holding

broken hearts

in the bosom

of my happiness.

i laugh

because

tears would just be too obvious.

the messages in African typography

until a few hours ago, i had no idea who Saki Mafundikwa was, let alone the fact that he’s written the book on African design heritage.

i came across this video of a TED Talk he did on the ‘ingenuity and elegance in Ancient African alphabets’…

he reaffirms the fact that the ‘creative process of design has always been potent’ and African designers would do well by looking within instead of looking outside for inspiration..

the alphabet was born in African, therefore we have an inherited advantage when it comes to creating typography and there is a rich heritage upon which to base new creations…

watch this video for inspiration…

 

writer: stuck

so every now and then, this ‘silence’ engulfs me… by ‘silence’, i mean not being able to write… i toss and turn.. watch Two and a Half Men… toss and turn some more… hoping that the feeling will pass and it usually doesn’t…

so what does a writer do in moments like these?

let me go think about it for a little bit…

….to be continued

while you wait, have a read of a post i wrote a little while ago about this very same affliction

magic series: i see rainbows

i see rainbows..

even when it doesn’t rain…

i see rainbows…

streams of warm colours

that tremble when touched.

i hear songs

harmonies of pleasure

that hum along over scattered rhythms.

i see rainbows…

and i remember

a time when i loved you

before you could bring yourself

to stop throwing up

at the sight of your face

reflected in the still waters

around our home…

i see rainbows

streaks of hope

between the ribbons of light.

and i wonder

if my imagination is enough

to carry me

to its ends….

inspiration: how not to build ugly bird houses

“Ultimately, the tools that we choose for any purpose will only be as useful as our ability to use them effectively and to understand what their improved quality means to the way we approach our work (as well as the challenges that led us to seek out these new tools). You can buy a successively more costly and high-quality series of claw hammers until you’ve reached the top of the line, but until you learn how to use them skillfully, you’re going to keep making ugly bird houses.” – Merlin Mann, writer and creative thinker

poetry: passing through

this morning

for a brief moment, i could’ve sworn

it was the sound of your laughter i heard.
it’s funny how we always assume that we will meet again.
and then years pass by.
next thing i hear, you are gone.
we will never see each other again.
not in this lifetime, at least.
part of me is glad that my only memories of you,
are all of you happy and healthy.
am constantly wondering whether there will come a time when my heart will get used to the thought of loss, of death… whether this jolt of the heartstrings will fade…
we forget the pain and continue living, till the next time…