DEJI DIPEOLU

Live your best life. Be the best you. Make no apologies.

Poetry

Love ~ Pablo Neruda

PoetryDeji DipeoluComment

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

Ache

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I wish it was easier;

I would be so much happier if you were here

And we could do the everyday things lovers do, everyday

But you're not here, and it's not easy   

Every sense I have screams at me to pack it in, to find another road

But I'd rather dig to the earth's core, with my fingers for a gem than sift pebbles from the sand  

So I will continue to reach, and I will continue to ache  

The lie

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The lie they tell you is that you can't
... if only you knew the truth
The truth that is there is nothing
That you can't
The lie they tell you is that you're nothing
That you're noone, or that you're not enough
Not man enough, not woman enough
Not human enough
The truth they hide is that you're more than a conqueror
That you were fearfully created
And that the world is not enough
The truth is, the world is yours
The lie they tell you is that the gates are locked, the doors are closed

The chains are too strong and you'll never break free
And that you will never be liberated
The lie they tell you is that there is no hope
You're too dark skinned, or too dark eyed
Or too light haired
The lie they tell you is that it's too late
Too many wrinkles, grey hairs
And your eyes are too dim

But the problem is not the lies they tell you
The problem is the lies you believe
What do you believe?

Do you believe that all you are is all you can be

Do you believe your peak is anywhere but ahead of you?

Do you believe you can be greater than your wildest imaginations of greatness?

Or do you believe the lie?

22 verses

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If I wrote a letter to my future wife today, what would it say?

Surely i couldn’t talk about her physical beauty

I don’t know that she is physically beautiful (though, come on, she is)

I couldn’t tell her that i miss her touch, I don’t know her touch

But i can imagine,

I imagine her touch is celestial

She is sent to me from heaven

So i’ll tell her i can’t wait to be touched by an angel

I will tell her how 22 verses in the 31st chapter of the 20th book of Heaven’s lyrical legend

Were written about her, specifically

So now, I’m pro-verbs, but even more excited about adjectives that describe her as “noble, vigorous, strong, profitable”

I’ll tell her that she is my proof that God exists

She is the evidence, yet unseen

The embodiment of my faith

 

I already speak her name daily

Because to cross her name with my lips in utterance is praise

It can be none but

For she is the fulfilment of a divine promise

The continuation of a work began at my birth and

The beginning of many works that will carry on long after i return to dirt

 

She is the Father’s legacy, the Son’s sacrifice and the Spirit’s companionship

She is my prayer as I am hers

The fertile ground for the cultivation of my seed

My help-meet, helping me meet the demands of the commandment to multiply, replenish

She is God’s love revealed to me in flesh

My interdependent helper, humble as she is wise

 

I would write her 22 verses, one by one, day by day

And hope they find her well, wherever she is

As i wait in joyous anticipation of that glorious day.