poetry@disabilitytalk.co.uk
What is it, if it’s not an affection?
She has been my everyday’s favorite imaginary meal
My everyday wish and need
To grab her inside the case of my hand
Like coins and notes in a wallet, a brief case or a tin
You’re the moon, a target but not easily shot, ain’t you?
My garage is vacant, dry and hungry
My garage is open like the sky
There’s none – not any; who can fill it. But only her,
with her hips and wheels, front and behind, windows and mirrors.
Like glue, you paste a smile on my face, don’t you?
When she passes on the street
My blood run kilometers per seconds
My heart hits the shiny and tiny stars warmly,
It dances over the river of honey and glitters with delight,
With your nice nose, you trigger my smile like a bullet, don’t you?
Nothing makes me feel comfortable than the softness of your couches,
When I touch you, I fall in the dam of laughter and tears of joy,
As from now, not I have you in my hands but in my mind,
As an image, you exist and I feel you, you are in my garage,
And I hope I will grasp your steering wheel one day, won’t I?
Poem submitted by Selomane Thomas Abram
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The call of the buzzard draws me in
To a place I’ve never been
It’s dark inside with no one there
And nothing can be seen
The buzz of silence within my head
Echos a conscious decision
To go inside and disappear
To avoid all this confusion
The darkness wraps its arms around
And holds me firm and strong
Giving me the time to think
That something is quite wrong
Above the trees it’s a different world
One full of space and time
Where no one ever questions
And the feeling is quite sublime
I rest my head to watch the clouds
Drift by without a care
Of anyone or anything
And nothing to declare
A sense of place to call my own
Where no one can disturb
The thoughts and feelings deep within
Resting unperturbed
The face can show a different side
So others cannot see
That layered deep within your soul
Is where you need to be
Rest my friend and take your time
To discover who you are
Find solace in the ones you love
And the buzzard is never far…