Category: Romance


MARACUJÁ (PASSIONFRUIT)
            ~Written By Arose N Daghetto

 

I’m sitting in the kitchen
holding the fruit of infatuation
Waiting for the one I love
To show up in the room
I speak in passionese to grandfather time
and all he says back to me is
tick…
tock…
tick…
tock…

 

Who will bite this fruit of infatuation
growing warm in my hand
should the man that I love
not come home tonight?
Can you tell me
my old and wise grandfather?
tock…
tick…
tock…
tick…

 

Precious grandfather
minister of parable thoughts
You’ve always been the sparrow
on my shoulder
during insomnia and quiet conversations
Come out of your silence, Grandfather
Talk to me
enlighten me
tick…
tock…
tick….
tock…

 

The big hand covered the little hand
In a reverent embrace
between grandfather’s polished eyes
They braced themselves
for the arrival of a new hour
and the official departure of another day
GONNNG….
GONNNG….
GONNNG….

 

Midnight drops itself in the chair
across from me
I don’t flinch at its laughter
nor the heckling hums of my refrigerator
I looked at Grandfather with Lois Lane eyes
longing for intervention
tock
tick…
tock…
tick….

 

Click-clack goes the door
Boom-boom goes my heart
Creak-crack goes the floor
and after a time capsule of silence
CRUNCH goes the maracujá
and her blood
down the sides of my wrist.

 

 

Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2012 by Arose N Daghetto for Black Girl Down Publications. All Rights Reserved.

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MON AMANT BLEU NOIR

    ~Written by Arose N Daghetto

Ses peau maure c’est si intense,
un poéme dans La Negritude qu’est si immense.
il est lourde avec l’histoire
un fantôme glorieux qui est emballé en noir.
et trempés en L’Afrique,
peureux et pourtant magnifique.
vers toutes de le yeux que lui voit
Son sourire est pur comme le lait.
Comme un fragment d’art
que s’est pelées lui-meme
á partir de ceux l’un ceux peintures de Van Gogh
il venu a moi comme si l’on était présentant un cadeau

il est mon amant bleu noir, mon chérie
Mon baiser du noirci, mon mûre sucrée
J’adore toutes les parties de lui
et je vais continuer se l’aimer jusqu’à ce que
c’est fini.

______________________________

 MY BLUE-BLACK LOVER (English Translation)

               ~Written By Arose N Daghetto

 

His moorish skin is so intense,
a poem in Negritude that’s so immense.
He is heavy with history,
a glorious phantom wrapped in black,
drenched in Africa,
fearful and yet beautiful.
to all eyes that behold him.
He has a smile that’s as white as milk.

Like a piece of art
that’s peeled itself
from one of those paintings by Van Gogh.
He came to me as if he were presenting a gift.

He is my blue-black lover, my darling
My blackened kiss, my sweet blackberry
I love every part of him
and I will continue to love him until
it’s all over.

Poems (not picture) ©Copyright 2012 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.

Sorry, Wrong Color©

           ~Written by: Arose N Daghetto

 

 

Yesterday I paid a visit to my local library.

I browsed through some Poe,

shook down some Shakespeare,

and caught a chill off Chaucer…

Awakened by the Chinua in my Achebe,

I relived August in some Wilson,

took out a few Counteé Cullen’s.

Leaving a few Dust Tracks on the Road

and a Rage in Harlem,

I found my Native Son

leaning against A Raisin in the Sun.

I gazed at my Beloved with the Bluest Eye

and was prepared to praise him all the way home

in The Color Purple.

 

 

Blessed with a tote bag full

of History’s finest literature,

I was about to hike it to the circulation desk

when I saw this Pharaoh beauty

browsing through a book two aisles down.

He was the personification

of all the alpha ingredients

that a real man could supply

this thirsty bookworm

ounce for ounce, good to the last drop.

 

 

God created him immaculately

from head to toe.

His dewy skin was rich like Egyptian toffee

and his twisted coils were bronzed

in kisses of mahogany.

Sorrow blanketed my heart

when I saw his woman

shouting at him in whispers

He didn’t flinch though

He just kept quiet, leafing through

Eldridge Cleaver’s “Soul on Ice”.

The more he kept his peace,

the more she unleashed war.

She swung her bone straight mane

over her delicate shoulder,

revealing her milky beige face

marred with exotic African features.

 

 

Anger twisted the beauty 

right out of her supermodel face.

Her fashion chic clothes hugged

her flower vase physique,

giving all the praise 

to her generous posterior

hot off the assembly line 

of her Yoruba foremothers.

 

 

Unable to tolerate being invisible

in front of her lover a second more,

the irate beauty flipped her hand in his face

and stormed away.

 

 

That’s when I, 

being the fearless bronze sista I am,

approached the humble brother close enough 

not to invade his personal space.

I said hello, he smiled.

I gazed at him, he gave me the once over

finding my thickness acceptable.

The corners of his lips

curved into an upside down smile.

The corners of mines curved sunny side up

into a ego trippin’ smile.

His eyes peaked with interest

for a fleeting moment

before retreating back into the unknown.

I told him my name, he murmured his.

I swallowed hard… the silence was cold.

I noticed him staring into space.

I wasn’t sure if he was daydreaming

or about to go into a seizure.

Whatever was going on with him,

he stayed like that for a while.

 

 

I followed the direction of his ogling stare

to the end of its trail

where a virginal black beauty stood

staring dreamily back at him.

Her complexion shined like an onyx gem.

White pearls for teeth embroidered

her plush, satiny lips.

silky Bantu knots sparkled like ice crystals

on top of her head.

Her deep mystical eyes were hypnotic

like blood diamonds.

She had a figure so petite, so graceful

that it could be immortalized on canvas.

Her sleek, elongated arms and legs

were like whips of lust

leaving welts of desire all over

my Pharaoh beauty’s heart.

 

 

Before I could attempt to win him over

one last time

he excused himself 

and walked over to the stallioness

waiting patiently for him to make his move.

My heart thumped like it was on life support

when I saw him lock arms 

with this island  princess

 

 

As the prelude to their storybook romance

unfolded before my eyes 

he looked back at me and said,

“Sorry, wrong color.”

 

 

…Ain’t that a bitch.

 

 

Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. 

All Rights Reserved.

Pathetic ©

                                                 Written by: Arose N Daghetto

Now I could tell you

where to get off!

Take them grab bag hugs

and second-hand lovin’

back to the streets

from which they came!

And I could tell you

where you can put your

Ah baby baby’s

and what’s my names…

Take them back to Roscoe’s,

let him deep fry you some dignity!

Tell him baby baby sent you.

I could even tell you

to take your ragtime charms

back to the pool hall…

Mama need a new pair of shoes

and daddy need to catch a clue!

Are you feeling lucky now?

I could also tell you

to take your gumbo thoughts

bankrupt soul and foreclosed heart

and slithering slick tobacco tongue,

stuff them in an envelope

and give it to your alibi,

the mailman.

And if that ain’t bad enough,

I can really go all out

and tell you you’re a no good,

low down, two timing

snake in the grass

who don’t know how to do nothing

but get high, get laid and get paid!

You ain’t nothing but a full-time punk

in a part-time man’s body

who was raised

by a bunch of cackling hens

who spoiled you rotten!

They let you keep your boyhood

by taking away your manhood!

You wouldn’t even bust your ass

for a lollipop!

I wish I could tell you all those things,

but I can’t.

Not to your face anyway…

I can’t tell you those things

because I love you.

Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise.

All Rights Reserved.

 
A LETTER FROM OTHELLO’S PAST©
                        ~Written by Arose N Daghetto
Othello, thy Moorish queen is here.

Look at me. Do not be afraid. Let the shame be thy testimony to thy deepest sorrow. Speak into the eyes of thine neglect. Rebuke the lust thou is hoarding for thy fair maiden. ‘Tis I, thy first bride whom thou soul once loveth.

Wipe the tears that scar these cheeks, I pray thee! Remove the crown of bitterness I tarried since the day thou bidest me farewell. Dost thou well to see me beg like a Philistine dog at thy virtuous feet? Come with me into my chambers, O mighty King, and warmeth the side of my bed that hast been cold for a million sunrises and a million sunsets. Taketh my hand and let us remember all that was lost in the storm of infidelity.

Thine spirit hast provoked me for an eternity. Draw nigh to me and fill the void. Confirm that my years of loyalty to thy memory hath not been for naught. Behold the blue eyed daughter of Judas whose milky skin and tender hands swept thee away from my embrace. Wither her innocence be truth or lies, I knewest thou before it all.

Return to the bosom thou wast fond of as a lad. Great dynasties await our reconciliation! Future heirs and heiresses crieth out loud for our consummation! Kingdoms and barren lands are ours for the taking! But none shall see the horizon without thy renewed love for me… the mother of Africa.

Come to me, my lord, and let us rewrite the ending of a fairytale gone wrong. Behold the broken vow that only thou can fix. A divided home that only thou can mend. An empty womb that only thou can fill.

Othello,… I am not thy treasured Desdemona, but I am thy first love. Willst thou consider how my longing for thee surpasses hers? Please take heed, my lord, lest I be a widow forever. I need you.

 

Poem (not picture) © Copyright 2010 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.

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