Return to contents page
Romance
Slowly he enters
Bouquet borne tentatively
She looks, smiles, he relaxes
Enomwoyi Damali
I Am Your Duvet...
I cover you with my warmth...
I protect you from the cold of the night.
My cotton... kisses your skin
You snuggle close to me, inhaling my laundered freshness.
I feel your heat, your breath and your contentment
You're safe in my folded arms
Relaxed... you spoon into me
I rock you like your dream lover... until you get comfortable
Travelling on to dreamland
I stroke your face until you are fast asleep
Morning comes ... I groan with the mattress
Rushing round... then dressed
Shaken, laying flaccid and straight ... then alone
The day will carry you on ... until sunset comes…
Jennifer Harris
Under the moonlit church spire
The moonbeam shines through the window at night,
the curtain is open as we lay asleep in bed.
The moonlit church spire seems to bless our love,
And sanctify our desire.
And the way that we sleep, shows our love is so deep,
there is peace in our hearts,
And a perfect restful calm,
between us.
As we lay in my bed
You call it your home, the place where you find peace,
And you sleep like a newborn child.
I love you so much,
You love me so much.
And you’ve told me that sometimes you watch me sleep,
you say I sleep with a smile on my face.
And my heart feels overwhelmed with your love
And I feel blessed from your warm embrace.
Edozie Ameke
The Look
I looked into your eyes for the first time and what I saw made time stand still; stopped me in my tracks; took my breath away.
Your eyes told me everything about how you feel about me.
I could see the effect I had no way of knowing that I had on you.
Your eyes betrayed the yearning you’ve kept under wraps. Our eyes locked - frozen in the moment. I was hypnotized. I saw the beautiful brown/green tinge that colour your eyes.
No one else existed
In a room full of people
No one else existed.
Brenda Garrick
50 Shades ah Nastiness
Knowing ‘ow me love me books, me ‘usband buy me one about sunglasses
Now me know nuttin’ about it, but me loves to read
Well, lawdamercy! Me eyes dem ah pop outta me ‘ead
Me lost fi words h’and me get so hot, me ‘ave fi take cold showers!
H’every page me ah turn, is full ah nastiness
H’every word me ah read is full ah duttiness
But you know something
Me carn’t put de damn book down
H’every minute ah heveryday, I reading
In de bedroom, in de toilet, on de train
Me no care who sees me, I loves it!
Me never feel so alive, so sexy!
Me learn some new moves to try wid me ‘usband
But ‘im carn’t keep up, so me lef ‘im!
Me now ‘ave me own 50 shades ah sexiness
Me own 50 shades ah grey
I mus’ tank de autor, she changed my life
And I taught toys were h’only fi de pickney-dem
Mmmmm life is sweet.
Brenda Garrick
MacKenzie Rose
June morning in Mackenzie Road
Looking across
And there it was:
A tree of yellow roses.
Not one or two half open
No, a regular display of blooming roses
Right beside the front door
Forcing every approaching person
To stop, and look, and smile
Even barring entrance to the house
As if to say
“There is nothing inside as good as me!
Having seen me, you can take the day off,
For I am big and beautiful
And bursting out all over.”
Leibert Kirby
Camellia on not being Rose
I am evergreen
I am here with green leaves
In spring, summer, autumn
And yes, winter.
My blooms are as good as anybody’s
And they last longer than the blooms of
You know who.
I haven’t got a problem with Rose,
Not really
She’s o.k., in her way.
Rose has not got her mother’s scent
As for her grandmother,
You could smell her a mile away.
This Rose gives herself airs;
Mind you, it is not her fault,
The poets fancy her,
And she drops petals at their feet
And you know what poets are like.
Burns takes the biscuit
Fancy comparing love to a red rose;
What sort of love is that?
He treats his women real bad too.
I could never trust a poet:
All pretty words and no substance.
Rose believes every word a poet tells her,
And she calls herself a grown woman.
I’m proud to be Camellia:
With me, what you see is what you get.
If you want Rose,
She is around the corner,
Pushing out her buds for summer.
Leibert Kirby
Black Love
One brazen kiss…
My mind under pressure…
I journey inward... and reflect on secret enslaving glances,
In a language that only ‘we’ understand...
Then we smile...
Knowingly.
Like a jolt of electric,
You have me sprung...
I implode, at just a touch...
Your aura made a bond with mine...
An eternal association... in that second…
What madness is this?
Is he a god?
Or, ‘A god’ of... Sex!
Jennifer Harris