She wallowed in grief beyond our ken
As drops of tears streaked her fair face
Her life was a farce, her soul was lost
Yet from afar, girls sought her place.

A motor approached, purred on her lawn
Time to perform, the guests had come!
She caked her face and tidied her locks
Drowned herself in fragrance, then some.

‘O where do I hide this load of mine?’
Jewellery? Shoes? Bags? Something classy?
Windows to her soul fluttered in search
For where to hide what none should see.

But she was summoned a l’il too soon
To her audience there to adore
Luxury in the flesh, unmatched beauty
Riches immense, glamour, splendour.

Their gazes followed her dainty steps
Gliding with grace, she showed no guile
She’d figured it out and knew just where:
Her sadness was tucked behind a smile.


I knocked on the intricately carved door,


No one answered.

I rattled the heavy ornate knocker,


Footfalls approached…

Then faded away.

My fists pounded on the door,


A call from within,

I respond from out here.

Yet, no one came.


As I made to leave,

I heard a key in the hole,

The latch slid, and the hinges moaned.

I returned and the door creaked opened.

I had access!

I caught a glimpse of the elaborate garden beyond,

And a heady whiff of fragrant petals.

Oh, how I had missed this!

He took a long thorough look at me,

Sized me up from head to toe,

Then shut the door in my face,


My elation crumbled to ashes

As I collapsed to the ground.

It hurt me more

Than if he had not opened that door

At all.

‘My Lord! Truly, I am in need of whatever good that You bestow on me!’


With feathery steps, she walks the fields
Yearning her babes in the depth of night
She hears them cry – cry in pain
Her breasts are full and seek her twain.

She knows in her heart – knows it well
Her twins are alive. Yes, she can tell!
The doctors say they died at birth
What did they know? Yes, she said so!

Her lips tremble, her eyes glisten,
And tears stream down her cheeks sunken
Her clothes snag, but she presses on
Such love even for the stillborn.

-©Anchor with Keidi
10th October 2007.


angels in flight
He feels himself slipping away
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
Like a dancer in a ballet
Thump, thump…thump, thump
He sees the light; that fabled light
Thump, thump
Thump, thump

As all becomes enveloped in night.

With the final thump, he becomes fluid
Like an ocean tossing a seaweed
On angels’ wings, he takes his flight
Defying gravity, gaining height

Mantled in robes of ivory tusk,
All around him, the scent of musk.
With each ascent, they’re put to task;
Reply his name to those who ask

The gates open by beings – pretty
Ahead, behind: splendour, beauty!
Peace and colours; summer in June
His book is registered in Illiyun

His soul’s escorted back to Earth
Right back to the land of his death
No one seems aware that he’s gone
As all around him life goes on.

© 2014 AwK


He keeps aloof, away from us
He sits afar, like he’s much better
Like he’s too good for our company,
Sinners with the scarlet letter.

When we step out, people take note
Not of me, no! Of him instead
Am more popular and better-clad,
‘His face does glow,’ I think in dread.

My mum likes him, she likes rarely
‘He’s special,’ she says, with a small smile
He’s not handsome, tall, or charming
I bet his humility is mere guile

No man’s perfect, so he can’t be
Hard as I look, there’s naught to see
He says he’s Muslim, but I am too
Yet everyone likes him and not me.

I stand with friends and view in ire
At how his spotless garment shines
I look at myself and my friends
At our soiled clothes and hands of grime

Right then, it hit! It hit me hard!
Envy for whom I call my ‘friend’
I wish he wouldn’t seem flawless
And had a vice, needed amend.

A petulant thought; Yes, I know
But hatch a plan amongst us eight
We stroll to meet him; hugs and smiles
With filthy hands, smear him with hate.


‘Our plan did work!’ I think in glee
Returned home pretty pleased today
‘He’s just like us! He’s now like us!’
I feel better, play better, eat okay.

When night rolls in, I lay in thought
Thinking of a good friend of mine
‘Will the stains clear? Will he recover?’
While my shirt lies, covered in grime.