A contemplative poem about Africa by David Tombale: Pursuit

This is a contemplative poem about what Africa means to me and what I might possibly mean to it.

Pursuit

The whispered words of a mother

to her crying child have somehow

caught my ear,

have brought me sounds of love and

joy amidst the worried clamor of my peers,

oh say I speak of voter booths,

of blood soaked tears, of Africa?

Say I speak of sun dried fields,

of absent rains, of the shadow of the day,

I who’ve spent my days in misery,

in pursuit of Africa?

A contemplative poem about wind by David Tombale: The wind

There is a beauty and freedom to wind that I’ve tried to capture in this piece.

The wind

The wind will breathe through me,

it will spin around the photos on my fridge,

leaf through the pages of these books before

I read them

conversing with the wind I have learned

the roundness of my limbs, the hefty weight

of my sagging waist.

I am fat and weary and the wind

will tell me of the hills gone brown with time,

the leaves fallen from the trees,

the waters drying on my lips.

The dust lies around my window

like a faithful hound watching over

the mortared yard,

the grass has grown to weeds,

the days to years and the wind

has stuttered and ceased to blow.

A poem about love and age by David Tombale: The hourglass

The hourglass talks about whether love can survive over time, as memories fade and age begins its work on the body. 

The hourglass

Trickling down the hourglass come
these moments, come this chance,
as she declines my hand,
as the clouds go swimming past,
my heart has run away with you,
it’s stolen sunshine from the gloom,
kisses by my daddy’s swimming pool
and I will lay with you,
I’ll steal those worries from your lips,
catch those random thoughts that flit
like birds around your mood.

I have loved a woman with tenderness
while time remains, as love acclaims
I have loved you even as I age.

A poem about lost love by David Tombale: Smoke

Written for the prompt Smoke.

Smoke

And then we were like smoke,
like forest fires, like tears within
the rain, we were beautiful like
reflections of the moon within
a pool, we were like perfection,
like the sounds of jazz on a lazy
Sunday afternoon.

We were smoke and flame
and some days I wish you’d come again,
I wish you’d happen by to see me,
knock on Number 24 and smile like
it was accidental, like the winds
had deigned to carry you to where
I am, but the sight of smoke is
lifting, dissipating into air and
my heart can’t take much more
so I won’t open up this door. 

A poem about love and travelling by David Tombale: Past the open gate

Written for the prompt Home Behind.

Past the open gate

Out beyond the open gate the

world has beckoned, it will not

wait, the miles and years have

called me and I being a gentleman

will not tarry here, so past the

hills and across the meadows

steeped with green and purple

buds I’ll venture out to chase

my fate and when my feet have

wearied of sea and shore,

the taste of dates, the love of home

will take me back into the arms

of rose and stone, the bundled

warmth of covers in yonder home.

A poem about life and hope by David Tombale: Live

Live is about celebrating life through the simplest acts.

Image credit- eelx

Live

Live out your dreams in stolen moments

beneath the evergreens and let free the

music that soars in you, that screams,

the drumbeat of dancing feet, baby girl

I’m watching you and all night you dance,

dance for Marvin, baby dance for me,

make these hours count, make this little

house bounce, make the cobwebs tear,

make that radio our stair, we wind and

dance our way into a better life or stay

dreaming while our skin throbs,

while your hair falls in drops of sweat,

live out your dreams and make my

mama stare, make her love the way

you tear up this room.

 

 

 

 

 

A poem about death and love by David Tombale: Before the dawn

The question of death is this poem is written from the position of one who is in love enjoying the brief moments he can share with the one he loves.

Before the dawn

Tonight I’ll lay my promises down,

tonight I’ll lay my body beneath the ground,

I’ll dine with ground worms as time

lifts up the scalpel to cut my spirit free,

perhaps to soar or drown, to be set loose

that I may rest in words, in deeds,

in the tongues of old loves and new,

good friends and righteous enemies,

tonight I’ll lie beside you and be young again,

I’ll touch you slowly as you lay your lips against

my cheek and swear to keep me and my secrets

long into the night and before the dawn.