SHE WAS LIKE POETRY

She was like a rich tapestry of lexicons
Wordily woven to convey its writer’s very thoughts
Words stretching into lines, lines making tracks of letters
Cradled in verses of imagery and metaphors
And every ingredient of poetry
Damask! The word that best described her fabric.
She was like rap music
When Negroes took charge of the mic
Spitting philosophies white folks failed to discern
Sometimes rhyming, sometimes freestyling
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow
Emptying their pained souls, showcasing their agonies.
She was like an antiquated note of a symphony
Whose comprehension was lost to history
That only a resurrected genius could interpret.
She was like…
A mysterious renaissance art piece
An equation of codified variables
Mystic writings of the Kabala only Jews understood
A calculus problem of undefined limits
The game of chess to kick start from stalemate.
It all changed the moment I met her

She was like poetry!
But then I pulled her close
And showered on her lyrics she wasn’t prepared to hear
Later sedating her full-mouth French style
The viper had struck, and the venom anesthetized the prey
Flat like a patient, at the mercies of God and the surgeon
Braced up with my paraphernalia, I set to start operating.
I put her in the altogether and decrypted her anatomy
Reordered her permutation and rearranged her combination
And with the skill of a bomb disenabler
I meticulously unthreaded each string of the tapestry
At last, the Da Vinci Code has lost its claim
She was like poetry!
Now unraveled she lies…simple as prose.




An excerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa ©2010
Author, Solitude and Serenity.