Lost Love Poem

For the Love of Roni
By Samuel Koongale

The blue skies turn amber
Moods turn sombre
As the amberness turns to grey ...
And the sombreness to anger

Scales tip afore,the precede
A newborn lays milk-less side the mothers motionless horse
So are the first days of its young life
The potters deft hands, the moulder’s mould and moulding
Forever changin’ its shape, changin’ the destiny if there ever was such

Doings are doings, goings are goings and humans are neither
Funny the doing seems to precede the being
For its being thru doing, or is it the reverse
Life’s breast seeks mother nature’s sucklings
Such are the intricacies of life

heavy with baby, laden with burden
loins longin’ to be long
cavities reshaping for the would-be inhabitants
the residents...the not yets but yet there
ready for steady despite the sting of the levy

The beatings of his heart...forever thub-thub
like the insistence of the football murders survivor
with blood gushin out the back of her head..
Adrenalin?Luck?Chance?Miracle?Both?All?Neither?
She had her day in court...

The vent birthed the end
Though nursed out and almost evoked it was the irony
For isn’t such life?
Answers elude good questions...
Yet the not so good always get their day
Maybe simple isnt same as not good

His days and nights merge
The divide goes into blurry mode
Love, desperation, obsession, fear, anger, hurt
All a tangled mish mash of figure juggling
And the resident shrink isn’t even a teachers aid!

Day four in the duration that never was termed
Step by step, it was a good sitcom wadnit?
Shy of the light and focus
Though his countenance is slique and moves with the way of the tongue print
Just like the Great Houdini,
Disfirming the perception of a beast without disforming the animal
So is the art of misdirection

Mavericks flame out with their arms flaming
And the candle for them martyrs burns eternal
Mere mortals in reverence of such great depth
His was the stand of a lone hunter
Though walkin’ thru the valley of the shadow of death
Fearing no evil...

For the world build by a somethin’ not contained outside nothing
The world of possibles birthed of apparent spontaneity
His sheath empty n holster missing both the occupants
Ready, ever ready to engage to the mortifications of both intruder and occupant alike
No holds barred, even God cud take a step back
With clarity of heart, cloudiness of mind caused no peril,
Cause when the dust settled…the worth would be unquestionable

Such....
Were the unspoken words in truth
of the lonesome figure
His countenance perceptively getting’ smaller
as he hesitatingly approaches the horizon
which wasn’t of his makin’ but this he decides to accept
Just like a truckload of luck of a kind chain-reactin’ to their demise
Opting to be in the frontline of a battle-zone
All a first time in Zurich. Navigatin’ the great waters of Scandinavia
with an old rugged compass that may have been archaic
But no mind...no sweat, no complaint, no-thing.
For, to the trooper…
It is always, always worth it
though always without prior reference
yet always he knew…
Because in his heart
He KNEW he would do anything
anything humanely possible...
for HIS Roni.