Poetry: Matters of the Heart

Pummeled, tugged and tossed still it sought sweet rest.
No quiet grounds on which to lay its battered weary crest.
Some said that it was fun to see. Some said they loved it true.
But when the hour turned to two, when they had gotten dues,
They turned and stroked it angrily and said what a to do.
It thought these hands were home at last.
It thought it found some rest.
It trusted with that child-like eye only to hurt again.
There are walls now where that heart lives for safety and succor.
The locks are stiff and rusty. The gates are made of steel.
The bolts has mazes to travel before it lets one in.
Maybe some quiet dynamite might walk in some blessed day.
But there’s no guarantee of that the pains still have field day.
Methinks it will fare better if it tore down its own walls.
But who’s to say I know it best. The heart on stage is mine.



Tug of war…
Lifting carefully wrapped boxes
Aorta goes from one shinny box to the other
Most of which seemed heavy
He didn’t mind the weight
His attention was on the shimmer
Box one, box two, box three
All strapped to his fragile tube
Being dragged down by the boxes
Aorta kept on. Grey advised that some be dropped
Aorta didn’t mind his arm could snap
Dangling between reason and counsel
A constant affair that birthed children
Some live in patches and others in threads
The affairs of the heart leaves him in scars



The heart seeks protection that’s why the ribs are caged.

The cage is the only place that gets a bird wishing it were a dog.



My heart pumps purple blood
Through its rainbow-coloured veins
Ever since your royal touch
Kissed the lines of its palms.

None from these parts that make me whole
Can understand the mysteries you bring
For this is an affair of the heart.



Sometimes Reggae.
Sometimes Blues.
The kind of beat my heart produce
From what the ears have heard
And the eyes have seen.
Sometimes blood.
Sometimes sweat.
The kind of feeling words alone can’t express From what my heart felt
Sometimes it hooks
Very tight like fastened with a belt
Sometimes it tries to relate to the eyes
But the eyes understands with tears
Affairs of the heart sometimes should be left untold.



Dark corners, hidden paths, secret kisses

They told her, that boy is no good
he will bring you nothing but trouble
She listened, she promised nevermore!

Dark corners, hidden paths, secret kisses

Again they cried at her
David Jones is a fake!
honeyed words, silky voice, eyes deeper than the sea
That boy is no good for you.

Countless times she promised, nevermore!

Dark corners, secret kisses!

Now her tears flow like rivers
From a heart broken!
Her cries pierce the night from a soul Unconsoled

This heart matters !
Threads, glues and pins won’t fit.
If this heart shatters…
Like pieces of glass, one by one it’d slit.

This heart flatters!
Truth takes a nap and time’s overspent.
If this heart splatters…
Red is the mud. Obscure remains the scent.

Then one drop, two drops, three drops, more
The heart moves out to even the score.
Power is shutdown. The ribs become caged.
Matters of the heartless are matters of rage.

A beating heart that isn’t in negation…
Positively inactive.
These affairs are for the grown.
What can I say, I’m just a kid.

The affairs of men are not for the small
Guard your Loins
Leave the troubled waters and soar higher
Buy the Lion costume
Wear it in times of adversity.
The heart loves the fierce Man

Rachel Charles


Quite unspoken, outspoken but quiet.
Let this dance match your pulse.
And the rhythm of its colour sound red.
Kisses are pain, tears are gained again. So cry,
Blood to flood the sea
Seasons may change,feelings remain
Cloudy, heaven’s broken like jigsaws
Uncover the mystery
Help this stone escape its twenty three barred cage.
Find the missing bar to the cage. Twenty four.
Fix it.



As your beauty com tanda
Gidi ba for my eyes doormort
My mind com dey wanda
Weda na winchi wey don for pot

Chai! See aura like early mormo
Weather wey neva carry dorti
Dat kind dem angel obonge odour
Wey don tey and no gree to rotti

Nawa o! Your curve sef and baka
No be wetin tiff my heart commot
Na somtin wey carry am waka
And dat tin strong die, e pure a lot

Na dis kind somtin oyinbo man call
“Affairs of the heart…” big grammar!
Sha last-last na still the same mata.



But just beat i thought
So my life can dance to ur rhythm
Dear little source of life i thought
Wasnt that your deal with the Creator

How then little red heart are you a symbol of love
Do you not know love hurts
Fragile organ i thought
You’ve joined allies with cupid

Be mindful for the arrows that pierce you
And the words that hurt you
For you will but make me weak
So then, make acquittance with my head

Let me make your affairs as mine
But when i fall,promise to stay with me.



Now I know that I am dead wrong
Deceiving myself thinking that I was living right
Its no lie that the heart wants that which it wants
Of late I’ve been given to the notion that it’s too early for this;
Listening to the intimate promises the whites of your eyes speak to my heart,
For with you I feel like am the only one left
To make things right
Therefore this confession do I offer
Fetched from the very depths of my heart’s coffer
I’d like to build on this affair,
House my feelings where you’d feel safe to be in
Knowing that you are truly loved.



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