He wanders slowly through the
darkest purples of the forest.
The moon decides to hide behind
an indigo shy cloud.
The leaves beneath his feet
crunch as the filthy rats squeal and squeak.
Little fireflies chase the hidden light
as he chases his desires.
The weary wild wind invades the canopies
of slumbering life
causing an owl to shake its feathers.
He steps onward through the hanging vines,
past the cold shimmering river
shining ultraviolet in the mist of thought.
A howl of the weary wolf wakes
the night air.
He shivers slightly as his foot
is pieced by bones of an unfortunate prey.
His blood mixes with the dirt of his journey
as he slowly veers off nature’s path
right into the heart of his lover’s sight.
#ProjectInspiredPoetry
Haiku of Voice
Silky smooth vocals
caress our soft willing ears:
soak up sexy sound.
Rhetorical Question Haiku
Can a poem even capture
the extent of your goodness
as a Human Being?
Conviction
conviction (n): a belief or opinion that is held firmly
He works for the cause
Knowing fully his potential
To follow in great footsteps.
But what is great?
A shining star
On the Walk of Fame?
To him it is a star
Cemented into
The Sand of Time:
Fossilised.
His works preserved in nature:
Wildlife.
That which we smothered
With our greedy gasses
And our lust for cha-ching.
Convicted by his conviction.
A conviction? – as in sentenced?
A convict?
Perhaps – to the prison of our destruction.
His uniform is stripped lands
Where trees once belonged…
His jail bars are acid rain and rising waters…
But like a Mandela he chooses to use his
Time behind bars for the good of all:
Sacrifice branded into his meatless diet;
He will no longer be prisoner one day,
And neither will his children
Because he had it:
CONVICTION.
Haiku in Afrikaans
Die seun werk kliphard –
hy probeer en doen alles,
Dus is hy so goed.
Haiku of Intelligence
She has brain of might –
Sinks bright teeth into volumes –
Thirsty for knowledge.
One Night Deal
Beauty Princess smile –
pretend the scars don’t exist.
Let the water wash over you;
let it cleanse,
bleach the dark –
make everything blonde.
Let the diamonds drip,
walk with strut,
strut with style.
Hold his hand:
be okay…
Just for tonight,
Beauty Princess,
just for tonight.
Inked
You might think I’m weird:
Maybe I’m too strong for you?
Does my opinion get you boiled?
Am I too bold?
Is my shine too bright?
I don’t walk the usual path;
I don’t wear your social norms;
I don’t believe in your higher powers…
Why does my tattooed chest
Bother you so much?
Is it because you long to be brave?
Long to be yourself?
Long to ink your life?
Or is ink too permanent for your lifestyle?
Will you be out of fashion next spring?
Will they no longer ‘love’ you?
Did conviction go out of fashion?
Is individuality no longer
On the menu at your gourmet restaurant?
I’d apologise for educating myself
On others subjects other than
Celebrity gossip and trashy ways
but then I’d be substanceless.
I’d rather live on the outside
Dancing to Nature’s song
Than inside craving likes like drugs.
Haiku of Plastic
Poor little rich girl
melting in her plastic cards
and full shopping bags…
Little hidden boy
Little hidden boy;
Dark voice inside.
Look deeper
And beyond the eyes
Until you feel
The body
Locked away
Behind forbidden skies.
Little hidden boy,
Screaming for a ride.
Please help him out –
He’s never been outside.
Little hidden boy,
gnawing for a chance.
Give him hope –
One day he’ll share
A dance.
Little hidden boy,
Not so small anymore.
Many years in dark
Manifest monsters
After all.
Mr Individualist 