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5 entries this month
A Humble Fable
01:35 Feb 20 2009
Times Read: 1,370
The whippoorwill builds no nest,
Ghost bird and the grasses know no rest,
Laughing at the sparrow's pain,
Sister Sparrow's plumage, dark and plain
Among the river rushes
And blue breasted thrushes
Ever singing their sunny tune.
The silver-stringed strains of Mother Moon
Bathe the infant flower bud
Who lifts his head from the river mud.
Sister Sparrow forgets herself and her sorrow,
Offers no giftsong of morn or morrow
But bows her head to the white lotus child
And humbly vows her heart as the crowd goes wild,
Jeering and taunting the dark little bird
Who dares to speak what all have heard.
"The white lotus is promised to the chosen few
How presumptuous to think he could find favor in you."
But the sparrow is unfamiliar with pride
She feels no shame, nor reason to hide
So she is first to see the lotus open in bloom
And fill the night with soft, spicy perfume.
Then, before all who gathered in the night,
The majestic flower of purest white
Lay at the feet of the sparrow girl and offered her rest
Robed her in petals and rocked her to sleep in a royal nest.
The lotus and the sparrow,
The earth and the sky
Purity meets truth
Only where heart may abide.
PRIVATE ENTRY
16:38 Feb 17 2009
Times Read: 1,384
• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •
PRIVATE ENTRY
16:51 Feb 13 2009
Times Read: 1,406
• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •
To Thy Sleep
15:52 Feb 10 2009
Times Read: 1,463
I have studied your mouth.
Your lips, boyish and plump,
I have tasted between my teeth
A thousand times. A thousand more
I have traced them with my fingers,
To convince myself that you were real.
That I was real.
A thousand times, a thousand more
Your love spilled onto my floor
And onto my feet, a rush of words and heat
Puddling there where I am resigned to wade.
Careful my step, lest the acid stir.
But tonight, your bonny lips
Rest slack and sweet where I watch over you
In gentle trust of sleep,
Like a thousand times, a thousand times before.
No more.
This will not,
This cannot
End well.
Umama, a lullaby
04:42 Feb 04 2009
Times Read: 1,525
Mtwana, my child
Lean forward
There is much braiding to do
Thula. Patience now
Sing the braiding song with me
Tiny shells for your hair, my little girl
One for each new moon
Soon will be a wedding in our village
And you will wear bracelets on your ankles
Thula. Be still now.
Soon the women will wear bright cloth
And you will bring gifts for the grandmothers
Beads to braid in their hair
There will be much meat
And the men will play drums
You are a warrior’s daughter
Kainda, I named you
Mtwana, my child
The animals have quieted
Mother Africa sleeps
Thula. Dream now
Your mat is soft
And I am near
*Some words from the Zulu language
Umama - mother
mtwana - my child
Kainda - name meaning warrior's daughter
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COMMENTS
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Morrigon
02:03 Feb 20 2009
I had a most wonderful time singing this. The words flow from experienced hands and merely ride the tune from my throat like the wind.
FallenPixie
06:51 Feb 20 2009
Another work of masterpiece as only you can summon :)
BLOODLIFE
09:58 Feb 20 2009
It really does just roll of the tongue. What could be complicated you make so easy to read and love.
Beastt17
06:11 Feb 22 2009
Some offer us an occasional stunning work. Some manage a masterpiece or two in a lifetime. Some will struggle till death and produce barely more than a recognizable effort. But you, Joli; you continue to produce one stunningly masterful piece after another. I don't believe in gods. But if I believed in a god of words, I could think of none more worthy of my praise and dedication.