A poem about missing fathers

Strangely, this week I felt like delving once more into the old unaddressed sadness I have about my dad leaving us. So I’ve combined those feelings into this beautiful Frank Ocean song in my latest Poem2.

There will be tears2

 

There will be tears I’ve no doubt, there will be smiles, but a few.

A pain is coming from without, resenting a smile I maybe never knew.

 

And when those tears run out, we’ll be numb and blue.

As the desert becomes my heart, I’ll lay still until the dark of the moon.

 

I can’t be there with you…but I can dream, I still dream.

 

My granddaddy was a player, pretty boy in a pair of gators.

Like you, fair skinned –exotic to your own – refined in all his layers.

 

See I met him later on, I think it was 1991.

An impression left on me, like you – replaceable to no son.

 

 The only dad I’d ever known, but pretty soon he’d be gone (too).

The only one, and not one. On borrowed time for his love too?

 

Hide my face, can’t let them see me crying,

I shelter a fragile window from a cold wind trying.

 

‘Cause these boys didn’t have no father’s neither, and they weren’t crying.

What gives me the right? Is my pain worse? I still lay still – not writhing.

 

Will there be tears?

My friend said it wasn’t so bad, you can’t miss what you’ve never had, well I can, and I’m sad.

There will be tears.

 

‘I can’t be there’, that’s all you had to say to me was…

Life isn’t fair.

Why couldn’t you say to me, you won’t be there,

Gone with the pretense.

You could of warned me, you wouldn’t be here…right here.

What’s your name in past tense?

 

No, you wouldn’t be here for me.

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh < Frank Ocean

 

I would also like to add a link to a short autobiographical prose I wrote a few months ago on the same subject matter incase you haven’t read it. Something different – an autobiographical piece.


© 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.

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A Poem about catching ‘feelings’ in a club

This week, I’ve chosen to use one of my favourite Shakka songs from his Lost Boys EP – Poems about poems is where I’m at right now, and i’ve multiplied this song for your reading pleasure.

You don’t know what you do to me 2

 

Even in the dark, I can see you. – Lost in the spaces between stars, to be near you.

 

I see you staring at the part of the room that I’m standing in.

Your face, turned towards me – a narrow corner where a lost boy is sheltering.

 

Even in the dark, I can see you.

 

As if I’m doing magic tricks whilst you wonder how they’re happening.

Can you feel our future? Or does the eye that you use foresee a different understanding?

 

Even in the dark, I can see you.

 

Her eyes got me travelling, Cupids got a javelin.

I came when you called – his plans for us transcending.

 

Who’s that?

 

You don’t know what you do to me.

Understanding is astray, a lost child to me.

 

Who’s that?

 

I’m out of control…out of control around you.

Violence would be peace in comparison around you.

 

Pretty bad at one-liners but I’m damn good at shuffling.

You erase my mother tongue; I move my feet towards you – shuffling.

 

You don’t know what you do…

 

Trust, it’s better if we dance, if I talk I’ll be rambling.

Fear – together if I dance? I can’t decipher her, the words – they’re scrambling.

 

You don’t know what you do…

 

To me, I’m out of control around you…

 

Lost in the spaces between stars, to be near you.

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh < Shakka

 


© 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.

Haiku No.6

I feel this could be my best one to date. Especially in terms of complexity of meaning and richness of imagery. The thing I love most about the haiku as a poetic concept, is the challenge of saying almost a whole chapter’s worth in just three lines.

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A Poem About A Drake Song

For my second poem, i’ve decided to go in a drastically different direction, and use hip hop/Drake ‘n’ B as the square root. I will continue trying different formats, styles and rhyming schemes as I slowly get to grips with this new fascinating way to write poetry,

 

Come Thru2

 

We had the type of nights where morning comes too soon… and nothing was the same.

The proof of us was left in those dark embraces, where no light could separate, like we were the same.

 

Come through

 

Watch me, going out of the way when I should’ve went home, only time of the day I get to spend on my own.

Straying from the path well laid, forsaking the familiar, my senses betray the solitude not gained of its own.

 

Come through

 

We ain’t spoke in so long, probably put me in the past. I can still get you wet and I can still make you laugh.

Distant memories, do my lips move on mute? A background film from your past? Still I move you to lust, still I move you to laugh.

 

Come through

Girl you know we got thangs to do,

Come through

Love, no rest while work’s still to be done

Come through

Get your ass in the car and come through.

 

Why has it been so long?

Time, our extrapolated song.

Why has it been…?

When last did I dream…?

 

Come through

 

Who you been crying too?

The tears that I gave to you.

Who you been flying to?

Is that what I made you do?

 

Come through

 

Whose bed are you sleeping in?

Could another’s heart be sneaking in?

Someone’s been hiding you,

From the love that I lent to you.

 

Where have you been? You deserve rounds tonight, come through.

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh<Drake

 

For those interested in hearing the original song Drake – Come Thru


 © 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.

A Poem About A Poem

I was planning on writing the third installment of my Deep With You sci-fi erotica this week. However, i felt completely unmotivated to do so, making the whole endeavour feel like work, and not an expression of the soul. So, with the help of my brother’s inspiring idea to write a poem about a song i like, the addictive internal buzz of creativity returned!

I present my first of many Poems about a poem, or Poems 2. I’ve never seen or read a poem like this (doesn’t mean it doesn’t already exist) so the format, rhyming scheme, content, and tone within a tone are a work in progress, and may differ dramatically in future poems 2. This piece is built from/within the song Dust by Frank Ocean off his mix tape Nostalgia, Ultra.

 

Dust 2

 

Who’s that talking in my lab baby…? Is that you?

A voice, the familiar but estranged – can it be you?

 

No, I won’t put you out, what would this place be without my muse? Nothing special.

 

Every book in here, I wrote.

 

An empty shell – hollowed out emotions can’t stain – the page is blank – with nothing special.

Every book in here, I wrote.

 

Some I’m not too proud of, some I wish I could burn – too many pages I wrote, wish I could revise them.

Life breathed through flames, and into the air my shame – rain pours from sky and face the same, wish I could confine them.

 

But there’s no erasing, and the best advice I got was keep writing, keep living, and keep loving.

Destiny – a woman, her hands – fate – will cradle your arm. With pen still wet, her support is felt behind – violinist and bow keep loving.

 

When the ink dries, and the pages turn to dust, so will we – turn to dust. So, will we turn to dust?

 

Dust

 

Who’s that laughing in my Lab baby? Is that you?

The smile of a thousand un-lived days, is that you?

 

No, I won’t put you out, what would this place be without your smile? Nothing special.

 

I fell in love with you girl…you let yourself inside, with no respect for privacy.

When alone the words do come, but sometimes, the barren waste of pain masquerades as privacy.

 

You said there’s too much on my mind, then you ripped out a page, and set that thing a blaze – I quit writing. I kept living. I kept loving.

The Haze appearing in this place, an atmosphere of dismay, but space cleared that away, I kept living and kept loving.

 

When the ink dries, and the pages turn to dust, so will we – turn to dust. So, will we turn to dust?

 

Dust

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh<Frank Ocean

 


© 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.

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

IMG_8671

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.