Thursday, 28 August 2014

Woman, I miss you

I must confess,
 I miss you
The woman who’s children hid under petticoats
While others hid behind her skirt while she worked
Oh how she would flail her arms about 
In a bid to stop this hide and seek under her skirt
Full of love and a hearty laughter that filled the air 
As the kids scattered to find joy elsewhere

I miss watching the woman with a strong back
Bent over her kitchen table ironing her skirt
Carefully she’d press the skirt pleat for pleat
Humming a song until all would lie immaculately
One on top of the other, soldiers awaiting a call.
I miss the way her skirts would dance around her knees
With each stride seeming to sing a song that said,
“Here I am,”
Knees that were bruised not by the glass bottles 
She’d accidentally fell on in the beer halls
Not by the heel broken on the pavement as she staggered ‘out the club”
But by the prayers she would send to heaven day and night over her husband in exile
Bruised by the days she spent mopping and polishing her enemy’s veranda
Humming yet another tune prayerfully

She is the mother who gave up her father, husband, 
Her sons and daughters to buy us our freedom
The woman who would leave her house in the dead of the night
Kissing her sleeping children good bye 
Deliberately breathing in the same air they breathed
Because out there was no way of knowing if it were their last
Day by day she would play mother to her oppressor’s children
Feeding, giving, grooming, loving
Holding them tenderly to her breast 
While their father busied himself hunting 
Her innocent brothers down like animals
And all the while praying
Praying silently for the day she’d see her sons and daughters again

Show me again these mothers and daughters who sang, “Freedom”
Women whose skirts sang in unison as they marched the streets
Mothers who worked the field to feed a village
Women who raised their skirts to their knees to fight for education
I long to see those women who tell her daughters that education is the key,
Who remind them of their capabilities as young women
That beauty is not a vice and dignity should be a compass
Yet strength can be found in compassion and tears are meant to roll away
Mothers who tell their daughters
That the secret to all these lies within a woman’s ability to love
To clothe her neighbour’s child in the same sack her child wears
That shoes are made for walking and voices to heard
 These are the women who did not have to wear pants to change the world
The African women who walked far and wide, united to the Union buildings
These are the women who did not adapt male behaviour 
To make the world sit up and take note
But instead their voices thundered to the ends of the world
The women whose selfies were mirrored from the policeman’s shield
 Women who were beaten, humiliated, tried but never broken
These are women who in trials sang louder, much louder
The songs they sang gave us freedom, our voice

Will somebody show me their young women
Young women who wear their skirts with pride
And not those who raise their skirts to get 100 likes
Girls who know that the gap between their thighs
Cannot be sold to buy get aways, get ups and gadgets
Young ladies who understand that their charms are 
Meant to build unions not tear down homes
And dethrone Pastors from their calling
Can somebody call the young woman who wears her skirt like a crown
Whose stride cannot be broken by futile promises of sweet nothingness
Lovers blind to race and not those whose love is a race
To the biggest bank balance
The lady who looks upon the world and it looks back at her nods
This is the lady tomorrow rests on
Whose cry is not a cry of fear but a cry of faith sealed

Oh how I miss that woman
She walked around in hope abound
African pride gleaming from her shoulders
Faith the soles of her shoes and peace her favourite tune
The very beat that could be heard from the bosom cried,
“God with us,”
Even through the darkest nights her song could be heard
Beautiful, colourful woman of her time
A gentle genteel  woman who respects her man
 The woman is kindness
This woman is loving
She is a woman loved
This woman is love

Candy Morrow







Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Do you know that?

I wonder if you know 
how much of you lives within me still. 

Since the day you uttered those beautifully winged words 
Words dancing in the wind 
clothed in the delicate breathlessness 
of dandelions racing each other against a summer breeze. 
Words spoken from lips that had mouthed, "I love you," 
and brought my walls crumbling down and like chamber maidens 
the debris lay at your feet awaiting your command. 

Do you know that when another holds my hand 
its your face I see. 
The smile passed on to me when you held my hand 
The hand would say, 
"I'm yours and you are mine." 
The smile that would reverberate, 
"You have nothing to fear, I am here." 

I sometimes wonder if you are real, 
What if my mind had fashioned you out of every woman's dream? 
You told me of our tomorrows 
yet today my heart is bound to yesterday's promise. 
Promises made by your heart to mine 
annointed in a bow of gratitude to your Creator 
only to be broken in silent solitude. 

"It doesn't matter," 
I tell myself, the presence of your shadow has 
taught me to console myself with lies. 

"We were young," 
I try to explain to my heart 
when it calls out your name in my sleep. 

"I have moved on," 
I chide my restless soul for it knows the promise. 
It stood witness as the words sprung forth 
from your beautiful heart 
it opened the door when your vow came knocking. 

"It doesn't matter, 
It doesn't matter." 
I tell my heart when I pray for you 

I wonder if you remember that beautiful day 
The day those beautiful words that now haunt 
my harrowed heart escaped your lips. 
When you lie nestled in the arms of another 
do you remember the words, 

"Will you promise to love me,only me 
and will you promise to let me love you 
and never another till the end of our days?" 

Candy Morrow

After a long spell of not writing or not having the courage to write rather I heard the pen speak and I had to answer.. This poem was an easy target because I'm a love addict.. 

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

Your name

Its silly really
But I look for your name

With sieve in hand my mind looks for that name
One
By 
One 
The names fall through the cracks
.
.
.
But you are not there

I search to find you with my hand
My eyes carrying the lamp's head
Heart fueled
eagerly watching
waiting
For your name to strike that match

I look for your name
.
.
.
.
Your name.
To ignite me, 
Let the fire of your name spread through my bones
Let every syllable tug at my soul to untie the bonds of familiarity 
Let the flames fueled by my heart consume all traces of you
Let every alphabet's ashes surrender to the gentle winds of yesturday
Pray my tomorrows be rid of you


I look for your name 
.
.
.
.
.
.
To set me free


Candy Morrow

Sometimes, only sometimes.... I wish I had the answers I seek.

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Siyanda Mlamleli

 Siyanda Mlamleli

Here we are.....
Words sunken deep in the ocean of our tears...

What do I say?
Where do I begin?
I've learnt not to ask why.
I hope you'll understand 'mntase'
I know, I don't know, I live..
Its not the tears in my eye that can wash away my pain
Its your voice, your laugh, a moment of love shared
Thoughts of you linger as I count your last weeks in one hand
The prayers, the pleas, the petitions to God.


       We do not understand His ways
        But I am to see you there..
       At a place where questions need not be asked
       A place where I'll hold your hand once more.
       To sit in your presence and know what love is,
       To have you sit in my corner when the winds blow my sails
       Reminding me of the strengh that lies within me.

       I'd like to write you a song
      My heart won't sing the words I long to share
      To unburden myself of this load I carry
      My spirit wills not to heal the wounds
      The welts left by your love long for a balm
      The salve of looking at you one more time
      A glint from your perfect teeth
      An embrace from my brother
      A nod from a best friend

     Some say its better this way, they don't know..
     The ray of light that shone from your presence
     Courage that moulded us from your tender hands
     The peace that was echoed by your hearty laugh
     Strength that flowed from your lips 
     From a fountain of wisdom from heaven above..

     The house is dark without you..
     The kids are making you 'I love you' notes,
     "We'll give them to 'bhuti' when we meet again  in heaven."
       
     The tears we cry can never suffice..
     The words we speak may blown away by the wind...
     You love remains engraved in our hearts.

                                                                    I don't know what to say..

                   I only wish I could show you..

                   If you could look into my eyes you would know..
                   They say it gets easier with time..
                   I'm looking at your smile, Oh I don't know..
                   To never see that smile agin, I don't know..
                   They say you're looking down on us,
                   We know you lie in your grave..
                   I know you can't hear me..
                   I know you can't read this..
                   But maybe God will make an exception this time..
                   Maybe He will read it to you Himself..
                   They shouldn't die young, should they?
                   
                   "God, please tell him that we love him."
                   
                    Rest In Peace Ntlane.

           
I never knew what losing a brother or a best friend felt like.
I never pathomed such pains
I never knew the soul to weep
But for your soul, my soul weeps

 Love: A sister and a best friend

#SiyandaMlamleli


Tuesday, 25 June 2013

....we dance.

Under the same sky 
We dance to the beat of love 
Dancing till our ankles are broken 

Dancing till the skies tear 
Dancing ourselves to the ground 
You on the West 
Me on the East 

Dancing till our worlds meet 
Dancing till the sun meets the moon 
For our love we dance 
Till our hearts beat chest to chest 
We dance 
Till we are one, 
We dance 
We dance 
We dance 

Love: 
Candice Morrow

Sunday, 26 May 2013

Fragments of us.

 
Photo credits: Leovi

Its okay
     Shatter my heart
          Ridicule my blood, sweat, my tears
              Rob me of my hopes and dreams
                  Spit on my years of endless toil.
                     Mock my incessant pleas to The Most High.
     
Worldly Works of Wordless Wisdom
      Fruitless Faith in Form-Fitting Futility,
          Swim swiftly in the red rivers of our blood
              Dance, drunken on our sweat and tears.
                   Build your house with the fruits of our labour,
                       Raise your majestic roof with our hopes and dreams

But..

Remember my incessant pleas to The Most High

Love: Candy Morrow

Tonight Brian is hosting with a bit of abstraction, gets me everytime.  Thanks to dVerse Poets for introducing me to Leovi, the works speak for themselves.
This beautiful fragmented glass reminds me of shattered dreams and hopes, no of our own doing but of the world’s doing.  This prompt is an awakening for me, an encouragement and a reminder.  Thanks again Leovi.

Saturday, 25 May 2013

Magnetic Asian Stranger.

If I had my way.... 
I'd make a friend of him. 

I'd like to do nothing more 
than to sit side by side with him 
watching life go by. 

I want to watch his movements, 
learn of the reason behind each smile 
to listen to him speak, 
slumber on an out-pour of his deepest, 
darkest secrets. 

I want to ask him about every work 
of art etched deep into his skin, 
stories permanently engraved 
on his beautiful body 
for the duration of his life. 

A light about him draws me 
to this seemingly dark man, 
maybe this is good old enigma... 
Even so, let it be. 

His eyes let escape secrets to 
fertile fields of knowledge-
I want to know this Asian Stranger. 

...but, 
we are governed by rules him and I. 

We can neither be together nor apart. 
Truth is, we can never be friends. 
All we can ever be is strangers.. 

...just one last look into his curious eyes. 
One smile from his nervous lips. 
And this is what we are. 
All we will ever be him and I. 
He will forever be, 
My Magnetic Asian Stranger 

Love:
Candy Morrow

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

A wondrous life

I dance under a beautiful sky
While a lover’s arms hold love fast,
A young mother tearfully lulls a baby’s cry
And a lifeless body reduced to dust.

When the stars fall on your beautiful face
In faith a stained -life is seeking hope,
A gracious heart extends an embrace
As slippery feet conquer  the slope.

Brother, hold on to my hand as we champion this strife.
Sister, come share with me this wondrous life.

Love: Candy Morrow

Sunday, 14 April 2013

A taxi home

Image source: Google

South Africa is a colourful country, and so our experiences awash in a mass of beautiful colour and wonderful memories, some relatively fantastic. Taxis are an important part of our communities and it is in these taxis that we come to know each other.

I'd like to invite you to read on... A short story detailing an experience I had in a taxi on my home. 

Love:
Candice Morrow

Thursday, 11 April 2013

A lawless love



    A lawless love

When love is self-detrimental
Who is to blame?
The need to love another mutes all sensibility,
It heightens sensitivity.
I’m a lover of beings
And lover of love,
My greatest strength is my greatest weakness,
Vanity the sinking sand poses as concrete.
I’m of an invidious nature I suppose-


So hard it is to hold one’s own hand,
Perhaps there’s reason to this madness.
I’ve seen love soar to the greatest heights,
Felt its whirlpool strangle me at its worst
And so I know, this is not love.
Looking for a reason with no voice,
To watch it bow in submission 
But I know the truth, it is simple.
This bears no colour of love,
It wears no mask,
This is no charade
I am to blame.


Lawless lover:
Candy Morrow


Sunday, 31 March 2013

A part of me..


I have a love for William Shakespeare that I cannot quite express.. I do wish to have met him in his time and not in my time, his time was the perfect time for him. 

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 5
 Those hours that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter and confounds him there,
Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'ersnowed and bareness everywhere.
Then, were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but there snow; their substance still lives sweet

Sonnet 6 * a continuation of 5*

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier be it ten for one.
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

by: William Shakespeare

Saturday, 23 March 2013

Tea with Voltaire

A penning of my thoughts inspired by dVersePoets , we're having A cup of tea with Miss Marple over at the bar with Claudia. 


I DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR THIS IMAGE




Er….
Should I stutter by way of confession?
Even now his smile seems to me like a grimace;
Never had he the courage to feign a concession
His regal spirit his worthy solace.
Violent underlings guised as leaders
Perched on high seats of counsel
Discussing, consorting, plotting-

Building a barrage against a friend to the nation;
The friend’s beautiful mind his only bastion.
High walls they built to keep him from the people;
Walls that caged their own defeatist minds 
Blinded by wrath they spoke against you friend, 
Words that crossed rivers, watered spiritual fields;
Opened a narrow eye leading to a life saved.

Yes confess I shall, in time
How oft’ I sat thinking, reasoning, questioning your motives
Digging through the depths of my bigot mind-
I cannot conclude, you are too wide for my little modern form,
Your invariable mind overpowers my weak thoughts.

I’d like to discuss matters of faith with you,
Shed a light on your path.
Opinions being the abstract and life experience the focal
Speak about God in my life, tell you of the roads we’ve travelled together
Nights I lay awake, conversing with Him 
Only to wake to a miracle on my doorstep.
I could tell you about the comfort I sought when a friend I lost,
When He was my Friend and Guide;
He revealed himself through words and works,
Lying on a death bed I called out to Him and again, He heard my cry
My imperfect life needs no mouthpiece
But perfect peace I find in Him.

Your journey was no different  from that of Jesus’ disciples-
In and out of prisons they buoyantly strode,
Stripes on their backs bore witness to a life.
They wouldn’t renege on their chosen path
Never would they forsake the ascended Gallelian;
The law scorned, bribed and murdered,
Barking orders from their seats of glory.
Jesus was magnified even so.


“Mr Voltaire, I only have one thing to ask of you,
Tell me of your journey with the Gallilean.”

:Candy Morrow

                                            

Sunday, 17 March 2013

Their Yesturdays

Image source: Google Images

Today:

Hair? Indian
Nose? English
Shoes? Italian
Nails? French
Accent? American
Skin? Undefined
Blood? African

Yesturday:

Hair? Mocked by the oppressor’s pencil.
Nose? Ridiculed and shunned by he who knew no better, for it’s strength.
Shoes? The bare soles which tarried and ploughed the enemy’s field.
Nails? Scrubbed, sewed, built the oppressor’s home while their own homes lay in shambles.
Accent? Their voices were silenced with bullets while the oppressor vowed to silence them yet.
Skin? Charred by the harsh rays of the African, sun toiling for the enemy’s enrichment.
Blood? African

Yet still they trudged on-
Fought for their voices to be heard.
Streams of blood, soil and tears flowed the streets of our land
Their voices rose higher, swelled with oceans of pain
They could not be silenced yet.

They fought so the pencil would be a friend and not the enemy’s vice
That their nose would distinguish Africa from the world
They marched the streets barefoot that their children may walk as Kings and Queens on their land
They endured handcuffs and beatings so their children should be saved
They sang, shouted and cried for Freedom
Assaults, bullets and prisons where their homelife
Their blood was shed for Africa,
a continent of Kings and Queens stripped of their grandeur
bestowed on the Oppressor

Today
We wear the enemy’s mind
Walk with our borrowed nose in the sky
Walk over their blood in the enemy’s feet
Work their fields with pride
Speak in their tongues against their fathers
Hiding behind a mask, ashamed of our skin
Your blood will forever be, African.

Tomorrow
…………….
Candy Morrow









Sunday, 3 March 2013

Perennial Sunshine

IMAGE SOURCE: GOOGLE IMAGES
Our love is a true reflection of who we are
How we give and receive a mere projection-
Of the folds that lie deep within,
Folds that can never be understood
Or taken in

Thus my love lives as eternal sunshine in you
It cannot be moved, stolen or modified
It glows in its perennial splendour
Even as the seasons change

Though you may move in another orbit
Charter many seas in the stark night
My love will shine its true light in the morning
From deep within the boughs of its foundation
It will flow in its eternal strength
Filling the vessels agape with pain
Healing, leading, shining a light on your life

...and so I say-

love: Candy Morrow


Wednesday, 6 February 2013

Lay my soul to rest


Lay my soul to rest....

A Dandelion blowing seeds in the wind. Stock Photo - 9872333

Lying carelessly in a vaccumn 
The shattered pieces remind me of you 
Life drawing them nimbly together 
I refuse love's healing balm 
I need no remedy for this heart 
Lest it be swept clean of you 

When I lay down to rest 
Your smile lingers before me 
Darting wildly across the room 
My eyes dance in warm pools 
If only I could hold your gaze 
Then maybe, you'd come back to me 

I need to hold your hand 
Listen to pearls of wisdom 
Hammered on an anvil of life 
Spread carefully amongst your own 
To bless, arm and to protect 
Bearing answers to questions to come 

Your love needs no introduction 
Its flows through my veins 
Cleanses my heart 
Rests on my soul 
Its mirrored through my eyes 
A testimony with each glance 

Lay my soul to rest 
Rid me of the bedlam I nurture 
Soak me in brine 
Abate the blight of heartache 
Stemming from my abstruse feelings 
The abbess of an austere mind 

I lay your soul to rest 
With my heart wide open 
I lay you to rest 
Drift away and let me live 
Lay my soul to rest 
And Rest In Peace 

Love: 
Candy Morrow 

* A prose dedicated to the lingering souls of the loved one's we have lost and refuse to let go of* 
Image source: Google