Poetry Wrote Itself

By Ntobeko Mchunu

Poetry wrote itself takes you on a beautiful journey of emotions. From charming fantasies to real life experiences, the reader is bound to get captivated by some of the inspiration-filled poetry.

If anything, this book will give the hopeless romantic hope, the dreamer a vision, the saddened a dash of happiness. It is also for those who just want to enjoy great pieces of poetry put together to appease the emotions.

About the Author

Ntobeko Mchunu is a young visionary who gets a thrill out of life. He makes the most of every opportunity that life affords to him. This compilation is mostly inspired by the curiosity of life situations. The author has embarked on a journey to write more fascinating stories which the reader will be sure to enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ntobeko Mchunu
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463577080

Book preview

These Words

Pardon me if I get too deep

With these words that haunt me even in my sleep.

I’m permanently intoxicated by the fumes of the ink that spills on these pages;

Every letter comes alive inside you.

Engaging with the innermost, unseen, most sacred part of you,

Provoking every nerve that causes you to explode with emotion,

Like a New Year’s inferno that looks like fiery glitter in the sky,

With a desired effect that brings a certain appeal to the eye.

These words are bent on some kind of notion.

I couldn’t sleep most nights, so I wrote,

Traded my slumber with the night breeze so my thoughts could stay afloat.

Hear my words; let your eyes get fixated

On these words, which were dictated

By a mind oh so jaded,

’Cause now I’ve got your attention and you’re fascinated.

But these words are not just words;

They are the sound that resonates within your soul,

In your very core.

They move around you and explore,

Sending a message to be reckoned with, like a lion’s mighty roar.

You listen with your mind as these words speak silently.

There’s no need for confusion; they’re as charming as a sweet melody.

These words can make you feel so weak,

Like that crush with that x factor, who’s always looking so sleek.

Your heart flutters just a little when you hear them speak.

Knees buckle in when they kiss you on the cheek.

These words are not just words; they are a life of their own,

And at the right tone they are prone

To leave your mind blown,

So I tend to them daily

Consuming these words to nourish my mind.

Feel my words; let them penetrate and help you unwind.

Sixty

Sixty is no longer the number of seconds in a minute

Or even the number of minutes in an hour.

It’s the amount of time it took to watch a sweet moment turn sour.

Sixty times and beyond is the number of times I still think about you.

Sixty minutes of my life stood still and I didn’t know what to do.

Sixty, the number of times you told us to always be positive,

Because whatever you put out is what you get back.

Sixty is the number of opportunities you could see in everything,

Simply ’cause you believed in a life without lack.

Sixty seconds, sixty minutes and sixty years, you fought like you were born a soldier.

I see little bits of you in me, now that I’m older.

If I could make a wish and count to sixty,

I would wish getting you back would be that easy.

Sixty would turn out to be your last stride,

But knowing you, you’d probably wear that with pride.

Darkish

I’m alive in my uniqueness every moment,

But I’m reminded that I’m one shade too dark to be important.

Every day is a fight to separate myself from the stigma,

But all the hype about being darkish has got their minds distorted.

Is there any place better than this that has humanity?

’Cause the white man got me thinking that even Heaven is not for me.

If someone finds it, could they at least inform me?

So that maybe before I die my heart can at least be full of glee.

But I’m darkish; I’m a shade too dark to even sit down when I’m tired,

’Cause my so-called owner has told me I have no worth to be admired.

I wish I could collect all my tears from all the lashes I received, ’cause the thought of drowning in them is better than slavery.

Even the ones who sought freedom, ran away only to get caught, and have paid with their lives for their bravery.

So curse the light that shines on me revealing my identity; it exposes me for what I am; I’m darkish.

I was hated since I was born, so hate is nothing new to me, set aside like rubbish, by the human who thinks my skin is tarnish.

To be born only to know grief, to be snarled at, to be hungry and locked up in a hole and get spat at.

That’s who I was when I lived in the cruel, cruel world.

At least, that’s what I’ll remember about me being a slave girl.

But for now while I live, let me learn to love myself, ’cause my own kind is forbidden to love me.

At least the sun will go down any minute now, and my tears they will no longer see.

I’m darkish on the outside, but I still look like you,

And if you were in my skin, you would see me as human too.

Love me Past Midnight

Love seems to be the only verb we’ll ever achieve.

I love you; you say you love me; I tell you with joy; yes, I receive.

Anything beyond that would probably give your mother a heart attack

When you introduce me and she only sees a tall figure whose skin tone is black.

Suddenly, we’re no longer breathing the same air.

It’s likely they don’t want these curls in their grandchildren’s hair.

So let’s spare ourselves the trouble and not go there.

But if you want to go there, I’ve got just one question.

Could you love me past midnight?

Are you able to go the mile with me; we could be each other’s delight.

As we lie on our backs, hands intertwined, counting stars,

Or like snow patrol we could just waste time counting cars.

No temporary kind of love that leaves a person craving love.

Lost a love, now I’m mourning love.

Have an urge for love, now I’m craving love.

Was sceptical about love until you gave me love.

Love me past midnight until we disappear out of sight.

Can we be bold for once and try this thing called love while we’re still willing to fight?

I’ll never apologise for loving you in the skin I wore, the day our souls collided,

But I will apologise that even though we both knew the truth, the outcome of our decisions left us divided.

Blaming the world is all too easy, so let’s blame ourselves, ’cause we are the ones who are misguided.

Why me, why you, why are we short-sighted?

But if I could also love you past midnight, then hope could be restored and love reignited,

But we since short-changed ourselves with this excuse called fate, and thanks to her our confidence subsided.

Love me past midnight if you dare, ’cause I’m willing to walk the mile with you.

There is a love out there that knows no boundaries; some people have discovered its value.

There is a love that knows no colour; if it did, it would have its own favourite.

You and I just never understood that concept; otherwise, we would have savoured it.

Beautiful Distraction

My mind