Poetry

The Meeting of Strangers: Two Poems by Riak Marial Riak

Image: Pixabay.com

THE MEETING OF STRANGERS

Tomorrow you must wash my clothes, my clothes Vivian,
I am going to the moon, to the moon Vivian.
I found stranger yesterday, yesterday in the flinging eve,
She was more and more, more beautiful than a virgin rose.

Why shouldn’t you wake up? Wake up Vivian,
The morning is bright, brighter for me to go.
I saw a stranger in a dream, dreaming of her smile
But you must iron my clothes, my clothes Vivian.

Your weary eyes must wake; wake to see this end,
I dress up, shoes black and coat, but you I want Vivian
To comb smartly my hair, my hair smoothly must wave
For I am going, the sun is not hot, for I am going, going to stranger.

I did not amusedly sleep, sleepless last night
For I see her in vision, vision on a fallow lea.
I must wriggle my belly, belly that is empty
For I see her in vision, vision in a grubby valley.

Give me my phone, my phone lying tirelessly there Vivian,
The fierce wind is rolling, rolling to the sea.
I must catch up with boats, boats to see a clear view
For I must go, go to meet the stranger.

Why did you cease to work, hardworking Vivian?
When I must go there and lie, lie that wins,
I am chasing a wind, a wind that is terribly speeding
For we all must meet, meet Vivian as strangers.

But be taught to always hurry, hurry to save time,
She is a stranger to me; to me she will grow a doubt
That I work things unworkable, unworkable in direness
But give me that hanging mirror, mirror that I want.

You put on my tie, tie that will cease to live about my neck,
I will go there to see swallow, swallows twitter my smartness.
She too will redden her lips; her lips will unlock like mellow
And I must brush also my teeth, my teeth that will blister and shine.

I move to the north, the North Pole descend,
Descend to what I knew; I knew the smooth body of stranger.
I am seeing her leaning across autumnal beech, beech for us Vivian
For strangers must know to live, to live in blossom and bloom Vivian.

Tomorrow you must wash my clothes, my clothes Vivian,
I am going to the moon, to the moon Vivian.
I found stranger yesterday, yesterday in the flinging eve,
She was more and more, more beautiful than a virgin rose.

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A LITTLE ROSE

I dwindle dingily round,
I wheel surely round;
These myriads to me blister and shine,
I have seen a little rose sitting
With wind playing amusing sound
And I move to see her blissful face times and times.

I will follow her to that Nyibor lea
For she holds in her soft hands clear compass,
Take me to the little Rose,
I want to sit and see
What her thighs
Will amusedly play there so fast?

It is love that is bursting with wind;
She sits there dwindling feeling
And I will move on to see
What she clearly hints?
I will hold her waists on the lea
Or she must declare bona fide appealing.

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Poems © Riak Marial Riak
Image: Pixabay.com

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