Who Am I

Who am I !! That's a question, I haven't asked myself..
A question I have to think about...Am she that has moved from here,
A long long time ago but each time I comeback...
They ask who are you? am I stranger,I don't look and sound the same, 
Even my accent has changed, as they ask yet again "who are you"?...
I started from here where the flowers grow, those yellow white blue petals,
In the morning dew..Of the rain that constantly falls,
Making my little corner of the world memorable..like those unsung words ,
And the unwritten story's that have been kept for me. But who are you? 
Am she the girl that was the best of the lot ..so they'd say...
They never emphasised, they wouldn't say .. 
She's suppose to be a good looker, except she didn't know it, so innocent was she...
I have written some pages, oh I don't know, I can't remember...
Such a long time ago..as I knock on the door of the old abode I shout is anyone there.
A voice asked, Who are you? Why couldn't anyone remember me...
Got tired of them asking who are you? The afternoons through the evening,
The long nights that I roamed...the streets that I roamed, trying to find myself, for no one knew of me..
But you've been away a long long time!! 
I have been away. But am back. 
Back here to my roots, where its light ,where the sun the rain, 
The darkness the light and the day & night. 
Then when night I will write, and after the first line...
I'll be hungry for the words that'll follow, 
Like a bird in the desert looking for water thirsty for the knowledge, 
Knowing here I am, in the rain. Yes my words. And you always.

Keeping My Blues Away

Weather report not too good you see..
The sky's opened its flood gates, hasn't stopped as yet raining
Its all grey out there, grey grey as misery 
The trees are weeping, their branches sweeping the grounds
Heavily with rain..My acer's look magnificent as they sway in the wind
Its storming out there, the colours turning from red to bronze to gold
Colours of the Autumn..Gladdens ones eyes as you look mesmerised
At the beauty before ones eyes.. drinking the colour of nature.
When ones heart is full, in everything it extols Autumn upon us
To deliver through ones eyes, the beauty surrounding you.
Meanwhile my sky's is weeping on us.. gladding my plants with a
Much needed rain to gladden their eyes there roots,
Stopping there sighs as they gasped, their heads touching down
For the lack of the wet stuff..But I like not the greyness of a rainy day
It leaves me low, my spirits dragging me down vicious spiral you know
And I can do not about it..the feelings one feels within,
When its grey out there..must pull my socks up
And maybe play Tchaikovsky, Beethoven or even Vivaldi four seasons
My spirits need lifting that's what I'll do,
I'll stand there baton in hand like Papa use to do..
Conducting Tchaikovsky Beethoven Vivaldi,
Until am crying or laughing
With happiness.
Weather report may be getting better..Indeed will see.
Have a good rainy day, my friends..I'll be playing music really loud
to keep my blues away.

Freedom Of Speech

What do my friends think of what I do what I say
They do not always appreciate where am coming from 
I say what I feel within, I must say I think not always! 
But that's just me If I stopped to think every which way  
My mind wouldn't cope of what to think what to say 
So I say what's on my mind at the time, come what may
Some take umbrage at the words I use,
But I mean not in any way to be insulting or rude
That's just the way I see things in my world, whether I like it or not
If not I'll jump down with both feet first, worrying not if I get hurt or not
Disparagingly yes or not.. I care not if they like it or not what I do or say
Agreeable am always not what's going round in my world or not.
My way is to say what's in the forefront of my mind
Whether others agree or not what I think what I say..come what may
But am tired of being told must not say this or that or write that, 
But as I am not a child but an adult I'll think say & write whatever I choose to say
Read my words they need not anyway, whether there racy or not
At the time I think not being racy in any way..it just evolves that way
I've got an open mind In the way I see my world, it's not always worth
Jumping down one's throat if one likes not the usage of my language
I guess I know better not, it comes to mind, not whether one should say
This that or not..But my God gave me a brain whether it's good or not
I guess I must use this brain of mine, to visualise within me what I see
In my world, whether it's great or not, my world does not always agree
What I see within, why did he gave a brain just to torment me,
Or to make me think, to make sense in, what I see, for I always sense do not see 
In the things surrounding me.. I like not what I think in many ways,
Turbulence within. The ones that shun me of the things that I say
But it's a free word is it not..miss them such a lot debating in every way
Those so called friends that are not..friends in any way.
The freedom of our speech was such, umbrage we'd take not
At what we said or not, I miss those days speaking with reservations
Not, my way. if I can say not my mind's dishing out, whatever you do or say.
One of my faults must say, things the same will be not
If freedom of speech is free not, curtailed or not
I censor not in any way..
Freedom of speech for all wouldn't you say?

                                         By Connie James. 

Ohh What Joy

• 
  
• If I was the last girl on the tram and you the only boy.
•  I'd make pretty eyes at you ohh what joy..
• I'd scatter my books about, my writings everywhere,
• And just a look from you, OH boy oh boy !
•  In my street I go from lane to lane from the brick house the shops that are closed..
• And in the evening the rain that one can not contain the dampness, 
• The silvery shining rain, all the colours of a rainbow, 
• Green yellow orange and blue can you sing a rainbow........
• You could hear the silence in the falling dew ,
• Falling silently as if time was through..for me for you!! 
• The tenderness of the night softly so softly as we kiss and love 
• Our minds oblivious care not about anything.. ,
• whilst waiting at the bus stop  
• I think not am wrong you have changed with time .
• The story's anew the couple the visitor as they waited at tram stop ..
• Like the story about this city of yours, were amongst those story's..
• And the dew, I touching feeling for you as I whisper in the night, my words to you 
• Touching you in the cold of a winters night. We're all soaked in dew .
• And the warmth much needed as your hands I touch,  finding myself within your hands,
• As we listen to the story's ..We stand laughing loving..
• The singularity of my being which gave me my pride.
• Can one have too much pride my love ..
• To have you completely, you becoming mine.
•  The sleeping conductor of that passing tram, its bells ringing. 
• I dropping slowly at the next stop , walking across peering into the Cafe 
• Like sleepless souls sipping their coffee. I've become obsessive in my madness,
• And I know each and everyone of them..And then there's always you..
• The madness in my blood my mind my very soul..In the moonlight as you get down to sleep,
• My loneliness is such I can bare not as you close your eyes leaving me,
• Looking at you as you breathe softly dreaming smiling as you sleep.
• I took paper and pen, thinking of writing to you..
• But that night standing at the bus stop, kissing with the scent of you the very scent of you... 
• Wilst the dust settle down again..By the light of the street I find myself sitting writing to you,
• Something I have written not, in full dew the road I write until you soft footsteps I hear approaching, 
• From the last tram arriving at the midnight as I sit waiting for love.. 
• With the approaching of the midnight tram..

Midnight Beach

 My Secret writings hidden on the midnight beach,
 Surreptitiously hidden from the eyes that criticises my poems of love, 
The only love I've ever had. There're were not mere melancholic strings,
 Which were lost clandestinely not,  but hidden of course, then found.. 
The whispering winds over me they're like those kisses from he 
A man forgotten not and never will be.
In my romancing am often alone, the loneliness as I walk alone
That lonesome beach where we often meet clandestinely..
On the far horizon a twinkling light in the distance, 
Some distance away mid ocean.
Maybe the light of a boat a ship a dinghy 
But it cant be seen in the distance of mid ocean.. 
Those fisherman with whom I converse in the mornings. 
Now darkness descends brewing up a storm, 
Hurry they must if there're fishing for the market,
If they want not to get caught up in that storm ! 
With the sounds of pealing laughter worrying not over a little storm..
The striking of blue light in the sky not so far from where I stand, 
That streak of lightning nearest  to me. 
Alone soul stood all alone all on his own, 
Standing there beguiled lost not, gone !  
The sea wild so wild rising its mantle one more time, 
Its wildness awesome to see, as ones stands by mesmerised by its ferocity,
Then all hell breaks loose the struck of lightning, 
The sea rose with the splashing of the waves I saw he's face in silhouette.. 
Sending shivers down my spine, was that he ? could it be he.. 
How could it be he, here now..It cant be he.    
As I go forward towards him, he turns round smiling such an engaging smile,
That very handsome man; But of course it wasn't he..
As I walk away smiling at him such a vision before one eyes,
Just followed him visually drinking that wonderful walk of his, Panther like. 
Yet again the rain comes down soaking me through, 
Cooling down my senses the fire in me.. 
As I look away sighing, shame that wasn't he ! 
I left alone with my thoughts soaking wet bereft ..
Could that have been HE ?                                            

                                        Connie James                           

If I May Borrow Your Whispers,

                
                If I may, I'd borrow your whispers,
                From the other side of midnight 
                When we're alone together, with no one else in sight.
                I'd whisper in the morning and I'd whisper in the moonlight, 
                And I'd whisper softly in your ear, 
                When I say good night and I'd whisper my darling could we should we.
                You smiling said why not. 
                So beneath that red window, we whisper and whispered all night 
                You were leaving in the morning leaving me ambiguously. 
                To sit to think and write, words of yesterday that seemed at the time so right
                The happiness we shared not forgetting those little pains.
                The pain when happiness walks out the window leaving me uncertain 
                The happiness I entertained when all's is forgotten or not.
                There remains the sky the bridge down bellow 
                The words half-uttered between me and you.
                 In the path of life, they'll always remain's  my love for you
                 Borrowed or not love is love, do you think not 
                 The sensitivity of our lips sending shivers between us, 
                 As we kissed touched, the shadows above us:
                 The moonlight high up in the dark half lit sky, 
                 We spend endless nights sleepless between us as we held tightly.
                 Desperation in our hearts, for when you depart from our lives! 
                 Those thousand words that lie's  between us, words that remind us 
                 Words when we were in love, words of mine words of yours. 
                 And when all said and done.
                 Your whispers in my mind like a drug in disguise.
                 For you're all, the drug I need you do realise. 
                The whispers I can forget not, 
                When there was love in our hearts. 
                In your arms am safely home.

                                                             By Connie James...