THE PLEASURE OF READING

I cannot remember when I started to enjoy reading. To read for the sheer pleasure of living in that well woven story and beyond. I cannot...

14 October 2013

THE INDISPENSABLE MAN

By Saxon White Kessinger.

Sometimes when you’re feeling important
Sometimes when your ego is in bloom
Sometimes when you take it for granted
You are the best qualified in the room.

Sometimes when you feel your going
Would leave an unfillable hole
Just follow these simple instructions
And see how the humble your soul

Take a bucket and fill it with water
Put your hand in it up to your wrist,
Pull it out and the hole that’s remaining
Is a measure of how you’ll be missed.

You can splash all you will when you enter
You may stir up the water galore
But stop and you’ll find that in no time
It looks quite the same as before.

The moral in this quaint example
Is do just the best you can
Be proud of yourself, but remember
There’s no indispensable man.


09 September 2013

Hold you down


If I could hold you down
And punch you
Maybe I would feel better

Sometimes you annoy me
And it’s as if you enjoy
Getting into my nerves

You make my blood boil
And I clench my fist
Stop myself from crying

You may be having fun
And a little self reproach
Just watching me scold you

One thing’s for sure
And am not complaining
You’re quite a handful!

29 June 2013

EVIL EYE

They swear you’ll not reach
The success you’re eyeing
Because you chose your path
Refused the one they pointed

They sit and watch
Waiting for you to stumble
Sure you’ll fall
You shunned their unsound advice

They sneer at your attempts
Laugh, clap and stamp their feet
Jubilant because you tripped
Their evil eye did it’s foul

You crawl up and keep moving
Wipe the dirt off as you go on
Can’t give up
Can’t turn back

Not with their evil eyes
Watching and wishing you ill
Not with their malicious snarl
Anticipating your downfall

Must make it
Even if no longer for yourself
Just to kill their ugly snarl
Shut the evil laughter.

01 February 2013

To love and to protect?


When he left her for him, shame clouded her judgment. She fell into a pit of depression, even became dumb for a couple of months. Her life came to a standstill. How could she move on?
The light of her life had gone off! Just like that, it went off. It did not dim out for a while to prepare her for darkness, was on one moment, the next it was off. Or was she too blinded by their honeymoon to see it coming?


Close friends and family brought her to a psychiatrist, but the sessions did not help. She would not believe the argument that she was not responsible… that he and only he were at fault. How could that be? He had always been so perfect, spontaneous, a real and modern gentleman. A manly man. She still wonders what it is that she did wrong, or what she had failed to do right. Did she not love him well enough?

She’d given him wholly all that she could. Her heart, soul and body. She’d walked down the aisle into his arms and given the rest of her life to him. Before God and all humanity, he’d promised her forever. The very ground he walked on, she worshiped.

Now she needs to find out what made him forsake his vows to her. Was she too nagging?  Did she make him mad? Had she drain his manhood out of him? If he had dumped her for another woman, she might have learnt to understand that, but a fellow man? It still labors her thoughts and weighs down her spirit.

But the one thing she regrets the most is not having being there to protect him.
She should have shielded him when society stoned him with pebbles of scorn, stones of contempt and rocks of disdain. Maybe then he might have rethought his suicide and lived a little bit longer. Isn't love supposed to protect?

26 January 2013

A Flower was Plucked


In this virgin island
Where never before had your kind strode
You came, a stranger
And you were gladly welcomed


You knew your way around
A great traveller
Must have been to other lands
For your expertise baffled this maiden


When you tilled this land
She let you sow
And she watered after you
Watched your garden grow

But as quick as dew dries in the morning sun
You left without a word, no farewell
And in this beautiful island garden
A flower was plucked

A flower was plucked
But its stalk never died
For the maiden hopefully awaits
That you’ll return

And the flower'll grow again.