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FATIMA LATIMA

Poetry By: pakla
True confessions



FOR MY ISLAMIC AUDIENCE,,,JUST TO SHOW MY APPRECIATION OF ALL CULTURAL DIMENSIONS.SALUTATIONS!

SPECIAL DEDICATION TO BRIDGET MIKUNDIZA (A STANDARD 6 CLASSMATE AT KABWABWA L.E.A SCHOOL IN LILONGWE),TESHA(ONE OF THE YOUNG LADIES WE USED TO PLAY TOGETHER WITH IN LILONGWE AREA 25A), BEVERLY(ONE OF THE MUSLIM FRIENDS AT COLLEGE), AND TO THE TWO MUSLIM SISTERS ON COLLEGE CAMPUS WHOSE DRESSING AND CONDUCT IMPRESSES ME ALL THE TIME...


Submitted:Apr 12, 2013    Reads: 18    Comments: 1    Likes: 2   


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I had wished I had no gift of sight

That the worst I could endure is hear you speak

And not snapshot the footfall of your gradation

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You may not be a thief

Nor thug, daughter of the dayspring

But definitely my heart you stole

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I speak of the daughter of Arabia

Aesthetically, she rocks

The queen of the pilgrim sands

And aeonian desert stones

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Beyond the hijab

Artistically knead with consummate craft

Like the relics of Mecca

Blest by the prophet's bones

The blessed

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I see torches

Beaming with intelligence

Within those mascaras

Exquisitely trimmed and vibrant

A lulu class botany

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She fixes a searching gaze

As she saunters close

And the stride and tread

Beats a drum entrancing

Soothed in her solacing spell

I give in, to her lullaby

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She halts her perambulation

Stands magniloquent and stupefy

Like some pop diva magazine pose

Or Victorian secret shot

A tactical derangement of her gluteals

As she rests her palm in its cleft

I feel contractions, my dartos muscles

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The blew of summertime

Gently beats her exceptional form

Her belt submerge her thigh crevice

Cleft by the sundered rift of fleshy fat

Built by the dainties and delicacies

Seasoned by the finest Arabian chef

As her silken dress slithers and gowns

Under the breeze bulging and blooming

Like a rose blossom or sunflower fore

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As she bends down

To assuage the burlesque

The sun specula lilts her sensational

Her smile apologetic bids me stillness

I am caught staring

Guzzling down her scent and

Feasting on empty imaginations

Of What If that accentuate the mind and

Speed a hormone

And I pray I sin no more

Next time we meet and I see her again

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For I am but a writer

Learning to use my pen and paper

And hope you but forgive

My linguistic impotence

When I make my confession

Employing too plain a language

When I say thus;

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Her smile is classical

Her walk magical

Her beauty celestial

Her stride sensational

Her religion ethical

Her character spotless

And that leaves me breathless

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And forgive if I step on broken toe

And try speak of the unspoken

Her nudity is sacred

Her being a type that dresses up

In the milliards of brutes dressing down

And shamelessly style it fashion

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I must see a priest

One confession I ought to utter

And even vociferate abroad

For once I had fallen in love

With an Arabian Beautie

A virgin of Mecca.

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By pat k lamba aka paKla





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