Alone At Christmas

Hiding from the next burst of dusty air

He scrambles further into the rusted tank

Hiding from truth and false realities of joy

The mice around him seem busy

Fighting for the last crumbs of bread

Their spiky fur now dusty and unfriendly

This was a home he now loved

One human inhabitant and a thousand mice

This rusted old tank was all he had

All he owned

All he inherited from the its previous tenant

It was all he could ever give as a gift

He hugged his dry legs

They lacked moisture and gloss

The crack-lines formed several patterns

He could feel his skin crack even more

It hurt

Oh yes it did

But this was the least of his worries

His stomach growled

The chill was getting worse

The dusty harmattan wind was torturing

It carried the sweet aroma of Christmas food and lots of dust

The aroma was torturing

He hungered

He hungered for a lot

Warmth

Shelter

Love

Food

Companionship

Clothes

And family

He wanted it all

He watched them complain about silly things as they walked past his tank each day

They nagged about foolish things

He wished he could worry about such

Low batteries

Lack of power

Insecurity

Broken heels

Broken homes

And others

He had no reason for such complaints

He knew nothing about all that

He had never experienced such

Unknown to him were his parents

The streets fathered him

And hustle was his mama

This tank was now his home

The mice…his tenants

Alone he was at Christmas

Alone and hungry

Alone in the cold

Alone in his tank

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

Sing Me a Sweet Carol

Sing me a sweet song

Sing me a sweet carol

Sing me a sweet Christmas song

Sing it to me with gracious melody

Sing it to me

Sing and do not stop

My heart leaps in anticipation

I hunger for your sweet voice

A rare gift from our Maker

You sing so well

You sweeten my heart

You cause the dark clouds to sail away

You bring sunshine into my life

Sing to me

Do not shut your lips

My sweet nightingale

Sing to me again

Repeat the song

Over and over again

Alert my senses with sweet music

Cause me to shiver in joy

I’m sailing

Sailing far far away

Away with all the music notes

Far away in Christmas bliss!

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A KING

The story that tore his heart…

It started with “once upon a time”

And ended with “Alas he became king”

He felt so horrible

He tried to hold back tears

But they spilled freely

He couldn’t contain his emotions

A sob turned to a hysterical cry

The piece of paper was getting heavy

It was peacefully absorbing the salty drops

The story tore his heart

The tale broke his heart

It was so true

It carried the truth

But just like quinine

It was hard to swallow

The writer just sat there

Staring at him

Watching his every reaction

The writer was shaken

And then the writer had a strange expression on his face

The writer did not expect such a story

A story from a man who oozed confidence and royalty

The king didn’t realise how difficult it would be

How difficult it would be to read his own story…his true story

This was the story of his life

The story of a little pauper turned king

No one was given the privilege to see him this way

He never let himself get this emotional

He was strong and wise

He was the king of his nation

But this writer had found his weakness

“His story written in ink”

The tears had stopped

But the writer was still in shock

He took a deep breath

He picked his sceptre

Majestically he stood

With a gentle stride

He approached the writer

Fearful yet hopeful he handed the writer the last page

And with shaky hands the writer received the last page of the book

“Print and distribute! Let them know their king!”

With these words he left the room

Leaving the poor writer alone in the auditorium

This was the beginning of the truth

A priceless story of the king’s unfathomable shine

The true story of a great king

The autobiography of a king

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

I LOVE YOU IN A MILLION CHILDISH WAYS

Far

Far away

I wish to go

I wish to go far

Far away with you

To be with you

To be with you and you alone

I have dreams

Beautiful dreams

Colourful dreams

I see a rainbow

I glide from one end of the rainbow to the other end

We glide together

Oh such silly dreams!

You are my friend

You are my best friend

You make me feel safe

A man you are

A man who loves me

I feel peace

You give me peace

I say so little

You talk so much

But the words I speak are always true

No tales

Just truth

I’ve said I love you so many times

In a million childish ways

A shy tongue

My shy tongue cuddles my words

Sometimes I wish I could talk as much as you do

To rattle about life and love

But my shy lips just form a curve…I smile

And then I look away

That is my own way of saying “I love you”

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

SHOT DEAD!

One look

One hard intense look caused it all

A look through the eyes and straight into the soul

A look at the face of the villain

He became restless

Panicking…pulse racing

He sort for the solution

His hardened form panicked visibly

He knew it

She was memorising his features

He decide to end it all

To leave her lifeless

No testimony

No bars

With her purse in one hand

He lifted his tool of revenge with the other hand

The fear in her eyes

The shock

Brown eyes shaking in confusion

Pupils fully dilated

The tears pooled in her eyes

Her hands shook
Her face was pale

She was shaking her head

Left to right

Right to left

Silently protesting

But he had his mind made up

There was no time for talk

His cold heart felt no mercy

Forgiveness was far from him

She closed her eyes

He assessed her frail being

He couldn’t change his mind now

She had seen too much

Tears rolled down her bony cheeks

And then he pulled the trigger

One shot

She crumbled to the floor

Her frail body now almost lifeless

No more tears

Content with his actions

He fled quickly from the scene of the crime

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

MIXED WORDS!

Build a tree before you die

Plant a house for shelter and joy

Sleep and live a good life

Wake up, your body needs it

Open your doors

Lock your heart to love

Scream, life is short

Relax, it can be therapeutic

Sing words

Mix crazy songs

The solution is before you

The truth, you will find

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

CRACKED!

Cracked is the word

So broken…fractured…split….damaged maybe

So defiled by pressure, age…whatever!

Cracked cracked and….cracked

Everything around me looked cracked!

I got tired of using that word

It was so irritating

So I screamed so loud

So loud for so long until my voice lost its melody

Yes, my voice cracked!

So funny…I’m using the word again

The word “crack” got me mad until my voice cracked

Now I’m trying to stay away from crack

What a joke!

I've never had crack!

I’m just trying to amuse my pen

Hehe…it is cracking me up

I’m so cracked!

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

DON’T JUDGE UNTIL YOU'VE LIVED…

Don’t judge until you've lived…

Don’t assume until you know the true story

Don’t conclude until you've walked the journey

Don’t claim perfection, you are not God

Be careful how you talk

Words are powerful

The wrong words can cause an earthquake of emotions

Don’t judge until you've lived the life of the scrutinized

Don’t be mean to your neighbor

Love your neighbor

Don’t play the role of a judge

Leave judgement to God

Don’t avenge evil

Why kill a person you didn't create

What is the point...?

Condemn the act and not the person

Correct the mind-set if you can

A wrong picture can kill the beauty of a living room

Take down the picture rather than burn down the house

Save a life

Save a future

Make our world prettier

Don’t judge until you've lived the life of the condemned

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

DIFFERENT VIEWS

Shoes in disarray

Dirty socks in unwanted places

Tie on the table

She cringes

He smiles sheepishly

Unaware of her pain

Her anger

Her disappointment

Irate

Naive

Unaware he was

Ignorant of the imaginary ants on her skin

The reaction to his disorganized lifestyle

She speaks

A cry unheard…with a voice inaudible

The silence was heated

A dangerous calm

Chaos within her being

A silly kiss hits her heated face

He really was unaware

She too was tired

Homely chores awaited her

But she needed to lay her head upon the soft pillows

To lay beside her mate

Her feet were itchy

But duty called

She sighed as she carried her fatigued being to the kitchen

---

Tired

Weary

Sweaty

Sleep deprived

He walks into his home

And straight to the bedroom

In search of solace

Craving for food and peace

Tie on the dressing table

Shoes littered here and there

Socks free in the air

Up! Up! Up they went!

And then like a plane descending the earth, they land safely on the floor

The thunderous sound of hunger in his belly

He was drained

A terrible day it was

Too many meetings and unwanted confrontations

On the bed he dumped his weight

Expecting food and love from his darling mate

She approaches him

A look of…

A look of…hmmmm

A look he couldn’t decode

He offers a smile

And blows a kiss

Just before he slips into the arms of darkness and peace

He was home alas!

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz