LIMITS OF LIVING

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Stretched
the turns that break the soul
releasing bands of uncured anger
stroking the feelings that are chained

Broken
under the heart is a fragile belt
the zone of no wall
that’s where it hurts the most

Scarred
somewhere within us
a fibrous velvety line that renames fate
opposing any law to be debated

Memory
a movie that wears haunt
passing judgemental rhythm
tormenting, yet provoking a new start…

ruthspoetry 2017

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A NEW START

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On a virgin slate
a new topic is inscribed
words after words
line by line
till phrases make perfect sense
then an epic tale is unravelled

On yet another virgin slate
an old topic is revisited
and dressed in previous harmony
the story line remains untouched
leaving an old vibe
in a new package

A new beginning and a strong start
a perfect duo for the resolutions
whether a fresh start or a change of habits
the decision to a new leaf is personal
yet the outcome is an arrow directed at everyone
to either appease or condemn the victim…

HAPPY NEW YEAR BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE ❤❤❤

ruthspoetry 2017

YOUR SMILE IS A WINNER

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Your smile is a winner
locking souls to a fine dance
to yield happiness
like men yield to fine wine
conjuring the stars to sing
as pain is wrinkled away
leaving the euphoria of true desires
wrapped in peaceful memories

In days when choice is bought
relax and buy a wide mouth with wrinkled edges
and a book of old country tales
it makes a happy ending

Ruthspoetry 2016

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PAUSE!!!

<a href="http://Folly“>

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Pause!
a word of definition
to freeze the thief called time
a moment of silence
the glory of absolution

Some days, a pause is everything
halting the dramatic present
the pain of cold greetings
dangling chaos of folly
numbing the words of the shrew
and the memories that rally all day

Pain is drifting
but happiness is freedom
on days were songs go mute
and thoughts lose a nut
just sit, close your eyes, and take a PAUSE!!!

Ruth Brodrick 2016

Guess What My Obsessions Are?..

Obsessed

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I have three strong obsessions;

One of them binds me strongly to him
it drags me to this world I can’t rule
and bites my ego to dust

The other mocks my girly pose
it draws me closer to being a shrew;
an insensitive parade of filters

Ah! The last one is a sister to vanity
it takes me to an ecstatic calling
and roots me down to a bed of regrets

…take a long breath and guess, what are my obsessions?

-Ruthspoetry 2016

THE LOST PRICE

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Woman

She calls on faith
believing in words he muttered
accepting a crown in despair
locking away her freedom forever.
The lies she believed was black
staining the good soul
cursing her desires to grey
chattering walls with agony.
The peace she seeks is biased
her prayers eluded her purpose
revealing burnt darts of chaos
she loved for no glory
yet the price of love slapped her
aging her soul and body
keeping her as the idol
of a lost love tale

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

GROWN UP

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when I was a child
my innocence spoke
it wore white linen
reflecting my inner peace
and my satiable spirit
my eyes were scarlet red
defining the ark of true living
my love, was unconditional
erupting smiles that healed hearts
that was me, the little sunshine…

…this is me, the nagging adult
my prudence lost me as I grew
no more peace, just me in the dark hollow
I wear a black apparel and call it white
but I do know I evolved into me
blame the trauma called love, it broke me
so much that my new profession
is to curse the daylight out of people
my sweetness rode away
leaving me dry and cracked
I am something not everyone knows
but I know me and who I’ve become
the stubborn wild grown up…

                                    ©2015. RUTH BRODRICK

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SHORT STORY: PUBLIC JOURNAL 89

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He said, ‘will you marry me’?

I said, ‘of what benefit will that be to me’?

He said, ‘of worlds entwined forever, and love ridiculed by me. Know this day, my fairest Pat, that I am incapable of loving you and not worthy to behold the stunning glory of your morning beauty, or the smiles that flows through your face that outshines dark feelings. But one thing I’m capable of, is being that one that’ll be by your side in and out of season, holding your hand, loving you the best way I can, and teaching life a new song, because what grows in my heart for you, it’s like aurora, something I am scared of. Cast me away, yet I’ll wait aside, by the corner of the lost love, not giving up, but still loving you till you see me again and love me. And your benefit; is me being your servant and still your king, my fairest.’

I gave him a second look, and asked if he meant all he said

He said, you know I do, in a thousand worlds, and in thousand lifetimes, it’s only you, and only you

I looked at him, this time I could feel my heart falling apart, and my head swelling up, I gave him one last look, and took the gun out of my purse and shot him.

Don’t ask me why? Ask him why he’s so good with words that he believes he can always get away with things, maybe not in this life, in the next. He deserved to die, a man who marries women to kill them?

Till then, he’d burn in hell for the 37 innocent girls he’d deceived into his marriage called serial killing.

***

Agent Pat, you copy?

Copy, Yeah, one down, three to go…

Copyright 2015. Ruth Brodrick.

GOOD FRIDAY: JESUS PAID IT ALL

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Whipped, cursed
bruised, a king he
still was. This cup
he endured so we can
be free of sin, not
because he couldn’t
defeat it, but because
his life was our cleanser,
his blood our salvation.
He paid it all. A sacrifice
too big that angels
worshipped his
brave and loving heart.
Today, marks the celebration
of death in life, a death that
conquered death and sin….

“He made a sacrifice for you,
what are you sacrificing for him?”

#TELL SOMEONE ABOUT JESUS TODAY

By Ruth Brodrick
Copyright 2015

THE WOUNDED SAPPHIRE

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Rakishly anticipating the thorns of hope
I stand at the edge of faith flummoxed
Even in the thinnest shadows of my dreams
It seems I bear not a song of preparation

Feeding from an empty pot that lies around
This section of my view rapidly enforces pain
Alternating between the glory of a free fall
At a point where the circus of life curses

An arcade of plummeting triumph skips vain
Escaping the fortunate event of ecstasy
I stay rapping to a series of pointless rhymes
Creating in me the mindset of a mad goddess

Enslaved to a threat that bears shame
A picnic in the arboretum of love I pray for
Wrapped in words of faith praying to bloom
My destiny is a star I see above my weakness

Squinting through the crossed horizon
Betting spirits are fighting for my sake
A slow steady voice speaks to me
Bearing a sigh of relief for the wounded sapphire

By Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved©
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THE WAY I LOVE YOU

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The way I love you
It’s in no way familiar
My heart has been stolen
Dressed with the best perfumes
And kept in a chest of your words

It’s a beautiful pleasure in here
My love for you surpasses strength
It’s fierce yet as calm as the waters
Even if you do not want me anymore
I would wait till you love me again

Like a nail driven far deep into the wall
I have driven myself into you, fixing my heart
I wish for you to see this, but also not to
The fear that you will think of me as weak
It’s actually why I keep dying in this box

I am actually weak; your smell, your touch
I am enslaved to a man who is strong-willed
Fighting away the cups that bear him wine
Helplessly denying the need to turn off lights
Still I love him for the poison he feeds me

The way I love you
Is that kind of way that tells a story
A story that will run on the lips of men
The story of how you tamed my prudence
And cultured my thoughts to wanting more

By Ruth Brodrick
All Rights Reserved ©

MY PINK EYES

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Look into my eyes
You would find a bright color
Contrasting that of the world
The world I am living in

My eyes sparkle curiously
Endlessly searching for an eclipse
It’s color erupts into pale shades
Hissing at the tragic views untold

Twinkle little stars
Wrinkle little minds
My lids are bound in anticipation
Anchored in disheveled brows

I see the original masterpiece
But nothing that looks like it is here
Only traces of man’s original fury
Blinded with the vain lust for perfection

Constantly blinking to filter the madness
Separating the thirst and pity from hope
The color I see in this world
Is nothing like the color I live in

<a href="Burnt“title=”My pink eyes”>

By Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved©

DROWNING TO HELL…

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The bridge is broken
I lay sinking in desperation
The waters are angry and fierce
Inviting me to a call to glory
Please help; somebody help me

I killed a man before I drowned
Running my knife through his skin
His tachycardia was palpable
Clenching on his skin; I feasted
Enjoying every part of his blood

Deriving pleasures from his screams
And from his fleeting breath; I danced
Now I am drowning to hell
The demons are already with whips
Ready to repay me for my actions

I see now the line between death and life
Spirally tearing down my ritual hands
Now my murderous soul denies me
I have done evil but I don’t want to die
Please help me; somebody help me….

MAMA

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her waist; the fall of kings and the swells of men
a two wrapper buttocks that tells the tale of an African deity
eyes so dauntless, provoking curses from monkey women
cornrows neatly matted to mock the leaves of Iroko
the glow of her skin draws the hate of her husband’s wife
the curve of her lips tells the story for only strong men
her voice; the sweet melody of your father’s soul

now she is cracked and beaten by the vain lust for herself
that she tells my sister that her husband lusts for her
and that I am jealous of her figure eight…

THE PREVALENCE

 Before I go ahead to make my first post for 2015, I just want to wish everyone a PROSPEROUS YEAR, it might be coming late, but I believe saying it is better than not giving you my wishes…

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Falling from ecstasy to a damned roar
My legs trembles at the dreadful view
Innocence is just a badge we wear
That usually fails to vindicate us in trouble
It watches us fall, break down and die
In my opinion, happiness is just fiction
If innocence stands aside
And fate burns its eyes with sulphur.

Lies are not good
Truth on the other hand hurts
Honesty seems to wear a thick apparel
Made of woven wool and pain
Leaving us to the damnation in abyss
Retching cowardly at the saints that mourn
Constantly trying the heart of goodness
Predominantly brooding over righteousness
In the end, good is good
Bad is also bad
No mater the obscurity of life’s pattern
Truth and goodness will always prevail

By Ruth Brodrick.

All rights reserved ©

MAMI WATER; THE AFRICAN ODE

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The night has come to our land
and the tune of the river fades away
leaving only the rats to report to the spirits

blatant fears of rioting silence
growing into stunted rigor of strength
she sits, and listens
she has become the dreaded voice that weeps
her plight now is hay dressed in cow dunk
stealing away the glow of the sapphire in her
the mask she now wears is crafted to light darkness
as the spirits now feed on her trembling
unravelling the dirty waters of bloody feast

you look at her and see water spirits
she is not like them, they are like her
cresting to the threshold of her thin tears
go closer, look at her again
is she not your daughter?
see the snakes on her hair
they conjure her to the gallows to drain her
now her bitterness slaps your mouth from anguish
her colour; black till the break of dawn

By Ruth Brodrick. All rights reserved ©, this article should not be used or shared without the permission of the author

Love That Never Dies

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Bed full of roses made of my love’s wings
Warm hug filled with the waft of our scent
Lips made purely of words painted skin
Eyes with a pungent ray of obsession
Hands to grip the soul and lay it down
And ears to listen without complain

Love is not the spirit
It is the mind of our spirit
If you say you love me
Then love me unto death
For death cannot do us part
It only makes our love an immortal eye
For I remain in your heart like a jewel
Like the redness of your blood, I’m your color

While I live in health with you
May my heart be blind to compliments
And may my eyes be shut to another
For if I say I love you deeply as I claim
Then everyone is only but a fade in my lifeoldlove

You remain the picture on my wall
Even when time has turned us grey
For love is the man I live to behold
And the mind I kiss to smile again
If my love is broken
I’d fix it back to find you
For in you, I found it all
I found a love that never dies

Cologne Her

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You smell her skin; kernel and groundnut oil
a cluster of butterfly eludes you
your wildest imagination cuts through the fragrance

under her bed, you stole the secret
you wore it, yet it wears her on you
you look ravishing, but with her glory
now you tell the lies to antique minds
but they can recognize the origin of the cologne
it wears a grin on your face that resembles village
the cassava farm recognizes you as you walk by
it mocks the worn out pride on your face
and praises the ghost of the woman you wear

you are vexed; you sneak it back under the bed
the rumble of the sweet smells of lavender bows to you
you want this one, but you rather not wear old grin
so you leave, smelling of coconut oil instead

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

JEALOUSY; THE MORE YOU LOOK, THE LESS YOU KNOW

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Your sister hates me
she curses my curvy and short figure
she says I took her good features during creation
or that I came from the ocean floor of hell
now she gossips me with her broom-stick sisters
and stares at me with eyes of arrows

when I walk, I wiggle; my heavenly endowment
when she walks, she bends: too much hormones
when her suitors see me, they stare at me head to toe
but they only look at her lagoon face
even your mother wishes she had buttocks
so suitors can bring money
that she will use to train you in school

I see that I have become an idol for her fantasies
but it’s not my fault she resembles the riot of hell
but why is she jealous
she wears foundation and designs her face; I do not
she wears long beaded ear rings; my ears are not pierced
she wears short skirts; I wear long gowns
my natural beauty overshadows her playground face

when we walk down the road together
heads turn to me and she becomes my shadow
she hates me even more now
but I look at her and wish I was tall
or that I had her hormones
that feature; she stole from me during creation
and I hate her for that

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