I was looking for a word for a very short poem but it appears there isn’t one. Of course there’s Haiku but these very short works of mine do not qualify.
Xhosa is one of the official languages of South Africa and is spoken by African people in the region in which I live.
The word "aikona" or "haikona" means "no", "not at all" or even "by no means".
It is derived from the Xhosa words "hayi" (no) and "khona" (here) - literally it means "not here/now".
So I’m calling my short stuff “Haikonas” … not because they aren’t here now, but because I’m not here now. As a matter of fact I’m not all there either.
ABOVE THE RAIN.
I want to fly above the rain
Soar up into the night;
I yearn to follow your angelic light
And so never return again
I want to dance to your refrain
Spend my whole life with you;
I yearn to change my aura’s hue
And so never return again.
AFTER SEX YOU SMOKE
I can't believe you're falling asleep,
You know - that's really so uncool,
Sit up and light up you creep
After sex you smoke
It’s a rule.
FREE AT LAST
Free at last the empires pink erased,
Africa! giant no longer slumbering.
but smouldering and now
shackled by another power
A virus deadlier than any former colonist.
HOLD MY HAND
Walking along the beach
Scratching a stick in the sand,
Everyone's out of reach
Won't somebody hold my hand?
Please...
I’D LOVE TO BE A WOMAN
Gee, I'd love to be a woman
They've such an easy life,
I'd love to be a woman
Be some rich sucker's wife.
Gee, its hard to be a man
We've such a trying life,
Its hard to be a man
Serving some rich sucker's wife.
NO NAME.
I’m a prisoner of my time
Blindly staggering about
While vainly seeking something
Anything familiar to embrace
So I may find a future in my past.
IMAGE OF MY LOVE
An image one of ten flashed on the screen
Silence … no words spoken in between
Your allure dazzling bursting on my sight
Stark beauty fills my senses with delight.
GIGGLE
Oh giggle!
When you walk I’m sure you wiggle
And jiggle
In all the right places.
Don’t you love it when I tickle?
Oh giggle!
LITTLE BOY. (1)
On this day a
Little boy fell
And millions cried,
Not for him but for
Humanity which also
Died.
LITTLE BOY (2)
I wish I were a little boy
In short pants and bare feet
Giving to my mother joy
And kissing girls I meet!
I would be so very cute
And mom would hug me tight
“Jett you are a little beaut!”
She’d tell me every night.
But sadly I’m a grown man
My moms no longer here
Others hardly give a damn
So I’ll got get a beer!
LOLA
My mom's name Is Lola
Like the song by the Kinks,
She loves rum and cola
But dad says It stinks.
LULU
I love the name Lulu
And think that it’s nice,
Love the name, do you?
There ... I've said it twice.
NOT A-MUSE-D
Uninspired,
I slump in my chair;
the blank screen
a mirror of my mind.
My muse sulks
somewhere in a corner
of another city... no,
another galaxy;
try as I might,
I cannot summon her.
OH ME OH MY.
Suddenly, I've forgotten how to rhyme
And spend most of my time
Writing nothing but blank verse
Which really Is a curse.
Its going to put me In a hearse
Or at the very least In a nurs ...
...ing home until I die
Oh me oh my goodbye.
SEA-SORE.
Well, if a seahorse really is a fish
Then I fervently hope and wish
That I never have a sea lion
On any hook I'd like to call mine.
STILL THINKING OF HER
Exquisite and evocative images sneak into my mind
Washing over my thoughts like waves breaking upon the shore,
Sliding through my mind like oil across glass
Before fading into nothing but a memory
Of what might have been.
THE PLAINS OF AFRICA
The plains of Africa are soaked with blood
As machetes rise and fall … cutting off life.
Tribesman kills tribesman brother kills brother
And the slaughter continues beneath the sun.
Yes the plains of Africa are soaked with tears
Again.
THE RISING.
Even as the last of the twelve chimed
To herald the end of nine and the start of ten,
I gazed up at a fire-lit night sky
And I thought I heard the Cosmos cry a warning:
“The Evil is rising!”
DREAM DIALOGUE
The war none wanted to declare
A battle none wanted to fight;
Father against son, against brother.
Fortunate were those who died
For they were spared the accusing eyes
In grieving faces of mothers and wives.
And soon the drum and fife sounded
To herald not the return of the unfortunate
But over graves filled with tear-soaked earth.
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Originally Posted by cafolini
