art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Death Of His Halo
He has ears That hear words unsaid An untamed tongue Unlike the rest of us Shamelessly expressive, He must have been a poet or a scorned lover in a part past life Who drowned in misunderstanding Because he bit his tongue and only released it in metaphors His eyes pierce into your soul Quietly amused by the discomfort it has caused As you struggle to breathe, you forget how to breathe Like begging your tongue to remember words of a foreign language you just learnt "What's wrong," He asks,as if he doesn't know The only words you've heard all night, But you bite your tongue and swallow your voice. His lips move Are words prancing out of his mouth Or are chants Dancing off his tongue? casting a spell That seems sinful yet virtuous As though caressing you Without touching you Seducing your soul... Your poor imprisoned soul You caged for normalcy You hear your soul making wishes Only you can grant But you don't Atleast not for now You try to speak But you over bit your tongue Now tangled and tied His soul starts to draw closer "Run!Run!Run!" Your mind implored "Wait!Wait!Wait!" Your heart explored You souls draw closer to eachother Gently and Softly His tongue untangles yours The knot in your throat you didn't realise you had, vanishes So does his halo His an ordinary person My soul happened to recognize But still magical
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) about a year ago in Poets
