Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 22, 2017

INCOMPLETE~by Tukur Loba Ridwan




flip, flip, flip…
flipping these pages of passion…
…like my favourite book,
i love to read your heart.
that is when i learn more about love
and its unusual lines and patterns.
even when too dark to fathom,
i would not close.
may you gladly receive me
like a gourd of wine
as i am pouring myself into you
by the hands of trust…
your sun melts my frozen heart
at your tender touch and kindness.
take me home. haven. heaven,
where paradise is the surname-
kiss me and kill me slowly.
let me into your fertile earth
while i am potent-
bury me alive.
let me seed, wet and whet you
into fruits of fruition-
ripen me.
that is fruitfulness.
we are models for algebra-
you are the coefficient by which my value
is sought in solutions to equations
about bond.
i mean to reap you when i sow
prayers for love, of love, with love.
you trigger my lines
into forces of vows when i write
them like this poetry-
something that makes me do what
i fail to say
when i could rather say what
i would not do.
these words fail me about you.
you are the muse to my lines
when will you be the climax i am yet
to attain?
you have been a tower in the landscape
of my heart,
and i became an eagle ever since-
soaring. scaling. perching. browsing
the heights of the atmosphere
to find you.
but how else may i find you
at the bottom of this tall poem
when you are yet to set lights of
lighthearted lyrics
to the dim tone of my dying mood?
if these lines cannot fetch you
out of this wilderness of yearnings,
then call me not a poet…
this poem is not complete without you
because you are complete with this poem.

O’real © 2017


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