Haiku No.4

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A Sonnet For My Flesh

 

This is my first ‘sonnet’, and it’s about the way my relationship with my body is such that it’s almost become its own separate entity. The suffering we’ve endured over the years and my instinctive inward concealing of sadness, has created a relationship where i communicate with it like a well travelled brother in arms. I think this inner conversation with oneself/body is something that most competitive athletes/sportspeople can relate too.

 

Together We Walk, Run, Fly

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Feelings of fatigue permeate through the sweat and the truth.

Never have I known a stronger one, of all things – your patience I want.

Sometimes, I don’t listen. I am selfish, a spirit enamored and recluse.

Stay with me and fight, protect what’s held close, and breathe until I can’t.

Remember me when I’m gone, transient, leaving sorrows with you and the earth.

I may be given to another, however, ours is ours, the memories – heroes and all.

Heroes – the first arched goal in the battle for the feather – the return from hurt.

All – your velocity with me from birth, despite that, I surrendered, ignored the voice, your call.

The pause, the return. Eleven point six was the measure of love,

Never before have two embraced as we did that day, a passion forged in the red.

Always my shield, battered, bent, and unbroken. Deflector of the arrows above.

Where now? Glory and death both lie at the edge. If I peer over will you be fed?

Lets go into the uncharted together, what’s mine is mine so take my hand.

Lets love, cry and fear for his sake, what’s mine – his plan – is mine – his hand.

By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Last Poem for a while…

This poem was inspired by a singular feeling the song Gangsta Way – Chris Brown ft French Montana brought about in me. It’s something I do from time to time, and it’s fascinating because I usually don’t know what the poem is about until it’s almost fully written.

This poem is about that moment of sometimes illogical guilt and sadness you feel, when meeting eyes with someone from your estate block that you used to share childhood happiness with. However, now for various unfortunate & not so unfortunate reasons you are living two very different lives and are unable to relate to one another.

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I’m in my hood all day, it’s my gangster way.

 

The forward steps I take, shrouded – in a hood that takes away my pain.

If I obscure my face to you, does it shelter me from the ache that remains?

What do I regret as I walk? The cold that strokes me, reminds me of the same.

The guilt of fame? The miniscule mountains climbed, while in its crevasses you stayed.

 

I’m in my hood all day, it’s my gangster way.

 

It’s true because my heart resides in the same place as yours.

A language received differently to the sounds made.

You don’t understand me, So I put a smile in the same place as yours.

It helps briefly, do we connect meaningfully? We smile, but it’s a different shape to yours.

 

My broad shoulders attired in Jackets proofed from rain.

While you, standing just as you were born – cry endlessly.

My life, safe in the hands that claimed me – yours fought always.

Did you tire? You don’t appear as you did those days.

Retire from your path – the gangster way.

 

By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Episode One of my ‘Alpha Stories’ Video Blog – Questions & Competition

Ps Stay tuned until the end to see the exclusive reveal of The Atheist’s BRAND NEW 2nd Ed front cover designs!

The mistake of falling for someone at work – The poem

Workplace & Heartbreak…

I remember when you changed; the feeling slowly poured over me – I bathed in a summer’s rain.

It wasn’t you, but the way you reflected into me. Subtle…smooth.

Your smile, your breath – different. Your intentions the same.

Was it folly to choose you? Another you had to love, who invited me into his room?

We traversed the landscapes of unsuitability, the bridge – optimistically built over the deathly hollows of your anxiety.

Work became play and smiles kept our hearts in wait – for love, not the great calamity we became.

Did I bleed on your heartstrings? I just wanted proximity.

I recall late night walks to your abode, courage and faith held hands, and with silver tongue I made claim.

The moon of this late night kissed your face, but it paled to the light I breathed into you with mine.

You, looking up over the clouds within to see me waiting.

You, pushing through the wetlands to find my hand to climb.

You, risking thunder and storm to absorb my shine.

I’d let you find safety in me, surrounding you – my adorning skin your climate.

The failure.

Above the grey still waiting…

Drenched to the waist, arm still aching…

The silence between the rain, is my song, the price I pay.

Our relations, an atmosphere torn away into space.

The courtship months in the making, the ceremony celebrated, letters that make you, scribed into my hair. In the end, the time nature takes to reshape it, not long enough to hold onto – feelings lost to the air.

Blame – Who is to be slain by the well-travelled blade? The boy burnt by the lonely blue flame?

It was too beautiful, glowing its reluctant colours from the corner of the stockroom.

Or the flame? Burning those who touch it, knowing very well it’s not one for the contact of skin – just unaccustomed to its own fame.

Welcome to heartbreak.

By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Who wants to be a character in my next short story installment?

Got a very cool competition for you guys & gals!

Text/private message or comment with any question you have regarding me, my writing, the creative process or anything insightful, and I will do a video blog answering them all!

The person with the best question will become a character in one of my next short story installments!

I’m a very honest and open person, so don’t feel shy to ask me anything!

Deadline for questions is this sunday night. Can’t wait to start creating! (happy face)

How it feels to dance with the woman I love.

At some random point on a train journey home, I felt inspired to think back to those particularly passionate moments, and try to describe the experience from beginning to end.

 

The Rhythm And You

To dance with you;

Is to resent distance and all its friends, to want the first step towards you to be the universe’s end.

Is the contact of eyes between a want and need, the smile resting on you is the touch between forever and proceed.

Is the out stretched ache of a mother’s young, fingertips close to feeling the one you love.

Is the warmth that envelops upon embrace, even melody is left astray-floating just beyond the periphery of our space.

We invite it back in – traversing the sway of your hips, to finesse me from naval to lip.

 

To dance with you;

Is to glide together into other dimensions, lead by guitar and string. To trace the meandering curve of sexual purpose – the waist upon which my hands do cling.

Is to take in the wetness – of skin on your chest or corners of hair.

Is the effort held in our grind, becoming condensation mapping paths on passion’s window.

Is the bridge of fatigue that reigns briefly, the last verse is heir.

Is the silence and stare – a slow mind arriving with just the love of you in tow.

By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.