Stunning and sloppy flowers concur
Where cherubim and seraphim wait
In the garden with the wafting wind
Along with flaming swords, watching
Over the children not to eat the fruit
A child’s play, deep in memory
With the other who sought for freedom
To treat as equal in the blooming estate
What were her virtues if not assayed?
A serpent lurked, enticed with a fruit
To know between evil and good implied
That which brought painful labour to operate
A deserving punishment for disobedience
Temptation, trials and toil triumphed
On issues that settle on the fate of man
Comments
my other words vary...
Living with me here, I have Gabriel who dictates from time to time, Anima, my other half and the story teller who follows my shadow. There is also the silent voice – Uyio Ndobo who rarely speaks as his main subject borders on the sublime, I am, while t. reflexion gathers them as observer. Best wishes.
A family of story tellers
Assembled in my house
Where pen and paper
The furniture I have
Compel me to write in verses
Barter for their lack of hands
My other words are heard
In conversational drills
And dialogue takes the dwell