I am just one breath from a thousand voices19 November 2023
Courtesy pinterest.com
I am the vestige of a fake sermon
the redeemer of a so-called vermin
the fate of which they will determine
heads or tails, palms would examine
I am a slowly revived olive tree
My gentle farmers rekindle me
their dreams of liquid green honey
set in their dead eyes that no longer see
My fruit hangs on the West Bank
where every corner smells death dank
metal on their heads lands with a clank
they think my keepers they outrank
I am a call for prayer in their lost homes
to Jerusalem, Rome and all those golden domes
The mind of each in inner turmoil roams
as fire every inch of their land combs
I am just one breath from a thousand voices
seeping through clenched teeth’s brittle noises
exhaled from tight chests pressed in dead choices
while inhuman armada in kids’ blood rejoices
Reading of the poem:
She walks slow
life bundled on back
Agony
her fiefdom,
mind scattered throughout waters,
thoughts a procession
They deal blow
never cut her slack
Trinity
not random
house as their hearts lurch
hospital and church
Two may die
May they ever live
to forgive
fathers’ tales,
she cries as her lung inhales
ashes for daughters
Reading of the poem:
Crescent moon
Glistens on treetops
Blowing winds
Change the skies
Cloudy landscapes meet our eyes
Decanting pearl drops
Humans rise
Multiple tasks shake
Their dark ribs
As they stir
Notions of a foregone Time
While the war bells chime
The ground spills
Red waters that slide
They know not
Colours’ calls
Crimson landscapes cut our falls
To touch, not divide
Reading of the poem:
They flaunted new bodies they’d seized25 December 2021
Courtesy jenisecook.com
They took the rules as a set trend
they bent on knee in submission
They made of the quest a mission
each to each hero and new friend
Their souls to heavens would ascend
one by one their bodies released
as their breath in their chests decreased
Consciousness moved to other spheres
releasing behind all the fears
they flaunted new bodies they’d seized
Reading of the poem:
ERA - Ameno (Official Music Video)
Written in the context of Ronovanwrites Decima challenge.
In a Decima, there are 10 lines of poetry that rhyme and there must be 8 syllables per line.
There is a Set Rhyming Pattern we must stick to: ABBAACCDDC or ABBA/ACCDDC.
For this prompt No 89, we must have “friend” in the A rhyme line
For more tips and other contributions please follow this link here https://ronovanwrites.com/2021/12/22/ronovan-writes-decima-poetry-challenge-prompt-no-89-friend-in-the-a-rhyme-line/
She was walking for almost an hour now, always with the Thames by her side. Her thoughts went back to Manas and how she had met him first in a small hut-like construction in Cameroon. She had landed quite abruptly in the field near his house and had hid the parachute under the sand and foliage beneath the trees. She had removed her jumping gear and shoved it under the sand before straightening her clothes. She could not see the remaining members of her team and remembered that she had seen no member of her team jump after her. She knew what her mission was anyway: look for and then report Manas once she had identified him. She had headed towards the house and found the household in great agitation and fuss, celebrating a marriage.
Without further warning, she had been whisked into the cohort and had become part of the celebration. With her local clothes on, nobody suspected her of any ulterior motive than just the wedding celebration. She had looked around for Manas and identified him sitting next to the bride. She looked at the wristwatch with the small camera, but the camera place seemed damaged. She had turned it nevertheless towards Manas and the bride, hoping that the camera would transmit the images of Manas to her team in the airplane that seemed to have vanished in the skies.
They probably will come back after viewing the images sent by her camera she had thought. She had sunk into a small couch next to several other women and joined the celebrations, keen to keep her identity safe. Manas had walked over towards her, his smile engaging and charming like she was told it would be. Her boss had predicted accurately that she would be Manas’ type and that this would lead him to bring his guard down. Manas had bowed towards her, with his hand extended, inviting her to dance alongside him like the Muslims in Cameroon did. She had stood up and had slowly been taken by the banter and the dance and almost forgotten what she had come here to do.
She looked back at the Thames and threw a stone in it, watching the ripples grow as the water was displaced by the impact. One of the images that haunted her mind was Manas standing in front of the policemen in Cameroon where she had taken him, and he had not fled. He was free now, walking sometimes in the streets of London when he needed to but all she could think of was the Manas in chains in Cameroon smiling at her, with his followers at his side. She realized that the only reason Manas was free now was because some policemen in Cameroon admired his jihadism and one of them had released him making use of the lax state of security in Cameroonian prisons.
Her story with Manas had been a very controversial one when her boss realized that she was actually falling in love with the man she was supposed to bring to justice. She had been demoted and was no longer on the anti-terrorist team so she resigned and joined the private sector. She thought back to how the story had evolved. It seemed so long ago now while it had only been 6 months since she had first met him. She remembered how he had reached out to her when he had first got out of prison. She had wondered how he had found her in London as she was not on the phonebook and not a registered voter. She threw another stone in the Thames and realized that it was raining, making more ripples than with just her stone. Her love story with Manas had begun in a very strange way so it was probably just as well that it could lead to strange things. She let her mind drift…
Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum 
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