IVORY CAST

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She stayed glued to him
for a thousand years,
yearning for his heart beat
or the helpless breath of awake,
yet he denied her loyalty
and spat on the love she offered,
mocking the tales of Ivory Cast;
the epitome of a fine skinned woman
with the prudence of half an angel.

He said to her, I know thee as beautiful
dauntless like a sapphire, you truly are,
with eyes sparkling tenderness
and lips tearing down denial
but to me, you are nothing.
Weak men see the plastered deceit
but I see the falsity of thy love
and I hear the voices that roam say,
do not look too deep,at a beautiful woman
for her eyes carry the tempt
that will murder you to insanity”.

If beauty was my choice dear Ivory,
you will be my queen for all thy life,
but nay, beauty is the wrinkle of the skin
and character, the beauty of the face.
See now my dear, that you are nothing?
Your beauty is nothing but dust…

©2015. Ruth Brodrick

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NOT SO PERFECT

sad-girl

Twirl and run
the curse of our youth chases

Grind and hunt
the warmth of our hands hoods

Cracked and aged
the decision of death is gain

Old and young
the sins we commit are equal

Tamed and loud
the lips still let out evil words

Wise and the foolish
the difference between us is brain

Sad and happy
the truth is our face remains the liar

Grey and hurt
the memories is called ‘regret’

Copyright© 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

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THE MADNESS OF WRATH

withered_rose_by_nuubisHe stood there, looking vexed, his face wore a tight frown that got her wondering what he was thinking,

He said in his husky voice, ”come here” but she was afraid, in her head was the war of these words, how did this happen? I only wanted to have fun, now this? How did he find out? Was he there?
She braced up, and started moving towards him, her feet seemed glued to the floor, so she had to put extra efforts to enable her get to him, she is still afraid.

I shouldn’t have let Stephanie introduce me to him, I shouldn’t have allowed myself drink too much, did we really… my God, shit! I’m such a jerk, totally screwed myself up, if he finds out, he will be sad, his temper, oh God, what will happen to me?

Are u alright? His voice woke her from her thoughts, why did you not tell me you were going to be home late sweetheart? I have been waiting all night for you, even made your special; shredded beef sauce with king shrimps, just the way you like it huh? Come sit, you look pale, what happened to your hair? The curls are out? Were you drinking? Sit down my love, you should taste the smoothie, tried out the new recipe…

I love you, she said, not sure if it was guilt or pain speaking, but she knew that was all she wanted to say to him, realizing that he had no idea about what just happened, she said to herself ”it will be the first and the last”. She leaned over and kissed his forehead,

I love you too Barbie, he said as he stabbed her right into her chest with the kitchen knife in his hands
I’m sorry Barbie, but I can’t forgive you for being with another, he said as he began eating the food he made for her…

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THE PATIENT BRIDE

“Let my hands be watered
by the rivers of love that flow out of your lips
Let your innocence brood over me
like sapphire and daunting like heaving
Let my pain be healed
by the power of your sweet embrace
and caress my hidden pleasures”

For such are the words
of a patient bride

A bride who sits in a cold dark room
waiting for the sun to stand still on her course
To melt the ice from her stale soul
and ignite the warmth of the fire he set within her
In the midst of her drowsy day
is the thought of the humour of his love
rising like the troubled sea
yet with the pace of peaceful waters of the great sea

Touch not the sun to shift from its stand
for it gives light to her little corner
The night only blinds her expectant spirit
and buries the perfect cliché
She dreamt a dream of entwined roses
turning into a tree of plummeting ego
An ego to bloom, grow
and eventually become the rest that never ends
A rest that sets the rough wings
of the broken angel anew and glowing

For each page of  her life’s chapter
bears a heart that beats restlessly in patience
A heart that carries the answers
to her fading prayers and trembling questions
A heart that bears the reason
of her solemn patience and endless imaginations
For neither the paleness of the grey walls
nor the shadows of fear will stop the wait

For her patience grows aggressive and hot
as she waits, yet tamed by the fever of her desires
The desires that are sweet as lemonade
and coarse as soured wine
She plunges into faith
as she sits in the dark
awaiting the return of her groom…

By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved ©. This poem should not be shared or used without the author’s permission.

TRICKS OUR CHILDHOOD PLAYED ON US

south-african-children_

We were young, naive, and fun seeking
We would carve out images from the palm tree or plantain tree leaves, which might end up as a warrior or the face of a man

We would sit under the moonlight wishing we could pluck the stars and save it forever
We would point our torch to the skies just to see its reflection among the stars

We keep wondering why the sun keeps chasing us and never stop when we travel
Or why the road seems wet and gets dry suddenly when we get to the spot we thought was wet

We keep trying to catch rain drops but never succeed
We often wish to elope to the cartoon world where all things are possible, even flying without wings

We create imaginary friends so they can serve as solace when everyone annoys us
We always try to run towards the setting sun to see if we could catch it

We try to do abrakadabra tricks on situations thinking we are the Wizard of Oz
We even try to be animals to see what the jungle feels like
We did more mind-blowing acts in bid for perfection…

Now we are adults, we understand that perfection is a quirk we must strive to attain
We can now laugh at the tricks childhood played on us, although we often wish we could have that naïve life back and start each day thinking we can save the world…

Ruth Brodrick

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By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved ©. This article should not be shared or used without the author’s permission.