Kween

Round lips and thickened hips

sheep fine wool, silk strong

a befitting crown.

The broadened bridge

that hold down fire and brimstone arms

endure struggle, embrace peace.

Bright brown windows

the infinite depths of her soul

Love, lies, fear and hope, she's seen it all.

The bubbly pears, 

many rivers of tears have flown

nourished many lives, the art of his comfort.

Parallel gates of dravite

The pathway of blissful pleasures

the gateway for an unending continuum.

Indeed black; skinned, an envelope of:

Fierce, power and fluid motions  

in every bit inimitable, in every way Queen.

Black and woman, as perplexing as may,

in the simplest of terms:

she's beautifully woman. 

- Fimisola Samuel  

5/24/2015

Precious

The eargasms 

I prayed wouldn't end,

as your heels kissed the floor - 

a quick glance 

and my eyes,

greeted by your svelte self.

I feign no interest

the space between us closes

"could you please hold the elevator?"
The unsure authority, 

that made the line

think itself a question -

nothing was more inviting

except the youthful grace of your face

as the brown of your eyes,

met mine.

"Thank you,"

then fractions of a moment pass

trapped in the haunting silence,

there's not enough room for both of us,

Like shrapnel wounds

my mind opened up 

and out it's jagged edges 

I see myself leave.
"You're welcome"
I felt myself return.

And just like a dream

I closed my eyes and woke
and three years already drove by,

there's something too familiar

It's the way you still walk 

the soft Yoruba inflections when you talk

your smile and,

beautiful heart that comes with it.
I'll never have enough words 

to describe simply,

the beauty of what we have -

Precious.

Fimisola-Samuel

16.Feb.2015

  

 

 

 

 

Chocolate Brown

The bliss of sweet miasma
rolling frames -
lost in phantasmagoria.
Images of parted lips
looking into my eyes,
they give way -
to freshly squeezed drops of panacea.
They strut across my cheeks,
jaw, neck and chest,
their gelid nature
flirting with my skin,
I think I might pour.
It provides him nurture
so I stay put,
and as the last drop
rolls off,
he feels the contraction
of tufted skin folds
her diamonds drew nearer
so I pine for more
he peaks through heavens door
she creates small lunar craters.
His desire,
unabated,
by the warmth of the cherubs
he won't stop running
even as he's bound
by the sweet echoes
in the vibrations of their choruses,
he won't stop,
until she's opened the flood gates of his haven.
My hands run down her tousled crown
lucidly black, curly and full
a slight contrast
to the chocolate brown
of her satin smooth sleeve,
a beautiful morning awaits.

2-9-2015
Fimishola Samuel

  

A Bird's Eye View

Is your world a little less plastic?

Dead to your ideologies

Old and rustic?

Or is it much flatter than your selfish mind

Revolving around you and the several like your kind?

That use, reuse, wash and destroy

Never seeking to employ

But all sorts of discrimination and tactical evasion deploy.

Shh...Quiet,

The rugal folds as you watch from above, made of mangroves and hills.

The Cars like sprawling ants of different colours

File behind each other like a line at the till

And nothing is more beautiful

Than life itself.

As Yellow gold drops, pearmeate the atmosphere

Like grating a big fat orange - zest everywhere.

it keeps spinning,

The same cycle everyday

Day after day, we age

Slowly fading away like the green on Autumn's leaves

And I wonder,

What is there to life anyway?

Its beauty that we cannot see

Because we're busy

Fighting wars across the sea

Universally

- Peace,

She is still missing.

And unity has gone astray.

Love, is a stranger in her home

Yet in the land of the brave

Daily fear - our daily bread

Of seen battles within

And the unknown ones

Posed by the rest of the world

That to her remains largely unknown.

Life, What is it worth?

A strange person's penny?

Or the blood diamonds that flirt with our fingers?

Is your world still flat?

Chicago - 17-Jan-2015 Photo by Fimisola Samuel

Fimisola Samuel

17/1/2015