A poem about jealousy and depression by David Tombale: Nobody

Jealousy takes many forms some of which turn more to depression than rage and it is this depression that Nobody addresses.

Nobody

There is no worry like the worry I feel

watching his arms settle around you,

and he holds you to him tightly as if

trying to mesh woman into man in

an ecstasy of being that makes a mockery

of my feelings as if you’re leaving.

Going once round the dance floor with

your eyes closed, happy with another man

and that spears me, a hundred yards out and it

impales me on the ruin of our love where

the black crows of nights of missing you

perch around the wall in droves, cawing

mournfully before a rising sun that I wish

never more to see.

This is the charity of despair that weighs me

down and wraps me round in old films like Casablanca

and Love Story and I need you now playing on

the radio but who cares? I care and I hope

nobody knows.

A poem about a city and a people by David Tombale: Chains

Chains is about a city and about being black.

Chains

Gaborone at night is like Mecca in the daylight,

there are prayers whispered in the quiet confines

of temples and hallelujahs sang beneath the broad

arch of churches that hug corners tightly while

car tires screech and horns blare,

a testament before cigarettes flare,

cupped in shaking hands, in front of torn nails,

these callused hands of a construction worker,

a farmer, a priest,

we are a working people, we many and bold

learning the sadness of our black skin draped in

chains we’ve never claimed.

A poem about angst by David Tombale: Where is my dad?

This poem is another contemplative piece that addresses issues I faced during a particularly difficult high school period. I hope those who have faced a similar struggle with their inner mind will relate.


Where is my dad?

I am afraid,

I told my subconscious as we fought.

Come now there's this thing,

unformed,

this need,

I am afraid,

 I declared my fear to a room of strangers

 or so I thought

but no sound escaped my lips,

no breath went past these lungs and formed the words,

amid the silent tombs of my mind's halls

I fought a war against myself.

Come now there's this thing,

 this need,

you know this thing,

you've seen it's soul.

I am afraid

so I sat against the wall

my eyes drifting towards the door;

 

David!

David!

I am afraid,

he paused mid blow,

he paused,

his eyes were wide and shocked,

you would persist?

You would retreat?!

 David!

Can't you hear me call?

My eyes on hers,

I watched her gush like she had before,

before now,

before then,

 it's standard form,

my eyes drifting towards the door;

 

Brother it isn't far to fall,

come let us be gone,

unheeded tears formed inside my eyes,

I am afraid,

and I wish they'd understand,

I wish I'd tell it so it wouldn't kill me to keep it in,

I am afraid,

and where is my dad to hold my hand?

Self conscious,

a man in need of help,

disgraceful

but still I miss the comfort of his strength,

I miss that voice that always said in response

to falling tears, "come now it will be all right."

 

A poem about dreams by David Tombale: Upon the road

There is a value in dreaming. It raises is us out of the monotony of our ordinary lives and offers a glimpse into something better but sometimes our dreams we fail to achieve our dreams and are left with nothing more than the memory of them. This poem is about those times.
Upon the road

The dreams that spin their gold beyond
these halls are faint, they do not often
leave their mark upon these people

Here the shadows pay them constant
call, dirty the heavy linens, retreat from
hacking coughs, there is a line embedded
in my skin, a testament to my weary
days and beside my bed lies another traveler
on this long paved road to nowhere,
he tells me he always wanted to be a singer
but the blood that twists the expression
on his face has bloodied the purple of his
lips

There are no dreams here only this
heaviness of body like the soul is struggling
to be rid of us, to be rid of here and when the
surgeon raises his gleaming scalpel in my head
I pray he’ll cut my cord to let me go.