What Makes You Beautiful

(Song for the Genteel Salesman Blocking My Path Each Time)

by Kamila More Cabisada
*********************

woman

If only you knew.

Beneath blonde, rebonded locks
Curled extroverted lashes
Cemented titanium dioxide
Plastered patient breathless pores

Lips-wine-red
Nose elongated,
Dark strokes  imprudent
Cleopatric windows to
Sadness of soul.

Maverick femininity in
Saccharine swan-like greeting

If only you knew.

Eden was perfect paradise
She who was crafted
Immaculately from your rib

She was your Soulmate
You were Beloved
Protector, keeper,
Nourisher of her being

If only you knew.

You are treasured by Him
Who fashioned you
Out of mud
Breathed life into your nostrils

From nothingness
You were imago dei.

You were anointed shepherd
Of all that lived
Moved; slid.

You were perfect
Majestic  in Truth

You were imago dei.

As you should have been
And can still be.

Drones

Drones

Every five minutes they come
whirring like copters for war
slashing through immaculate peace
you crave to blanket your day with

Those speeding three-wheeled
gadflies
are kings of small streets and
act like you must pay them to

Extricate you from a cluster of
doomed and dusty eggs and bacon
deliver all that racket

in your head
every time you think
about buzzing
drones

on your meatloaf
in your heart
in your dreams
on your hopes
on your thoughts

about how marriage
should be
a man and a woman
now one soul in
two bodies
living together
committed
fighting for stable
“everydays”

The roses look damp
bouquets of mums
on the kitchen table
you pouring hot coffee;
the mug you took two
hours to pick out
is punctiliously stained.

Irena, Won’t You Sing for Me?

Irena, Won’t You Sing for Me?

by Kamila More Cabisada
***********************

Irena, won’t you sing for me
The day is almost done
I see the sun’s long, glist’ning rays
Upon kissed altar stones

They bid goodbye to Daylight’s glee
As Dusk crawls in to keep
My world in constant pace despite
The tasks in mounting heaps

Irena, should you lose your song
Don’t weep, sky-speckled friend
For I have one to comfort me
And croon with Love no end

Like yours, her ballad fills my life
With harmony, pure light
My aging pen is a nightingale
In the deadness of the night.

irena bluebird

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by Maya Angelou (1928-2014)
***************************

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange sun rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.