walking on flowers

a collection of poems and artwork by dorcas marfo

Oceans and overthinking

Who knew the sea could be so mesmerizing.

Shades of blue that dip and fly into the unknown.

Such an oxymoron that will never be completely understood,

Until you drop a clock into the sea and discover that time still exists in a world of oxymorons.

What could the ocean do for a man like me?

A man with seeds of refuge and unclear intentions.

Staring at the sea didn’t cause my problems to disappear like demons in the face of daylight.

Instead they grew.

A hopeless romantic crowned with jewels of self-righteousness.

A journey of self-destruction rather than self-discovery.

But who knew the sea was not the end of the journey nor the beginning.

Potions of poison and fountains of flowers tainted the never-ending waters.

I found out that the ocean could do nothing for me and everything for the world.

It made me an angry yet grateful man.

The ocean couldn’t save me instead it would swallow me into oblivion.

It would suck the life right out of me and eat me alive.

Vein

by 

Vein.

Until my lungs would collapse in that moment.

The moment of my very last breath where I would discover that I was only a man without thinking.

Vanity, Vanity

A sprinkle of vanity will do the trick

Reach into its sweetness and take a lick

For the world will watch you despite remorse

Seeing you play with fire is like their main course

 

But dream on baby, there’s nothing like vanity

It kicks your dignity and says hello to insanity

A thrill it shows, when life becomes whole

As you count your heart’s death toll

Vanity, vanity, vanity, what has life given?

A used bus ticket and a half of forgiveness

Keep me close

How can you love me from a far?

You can’t see me when a mountain divides my sun and your moon

A distant mind shames a good heart

You can’t read me when you’re afraid to discover the truth

Sometimes giving up on you justifies my fears

How can I beg when you chose me? 

Keep me close

Nothing screams love than a person who lives.

Eye see you

The eyes are pathways to unreadable pages.

They show despair that crawls like black poison

Weaving between the hearts of star-crossed lovers.

They show judgement that pierces the guilty conscience of the dead

And awakens the immorality of the living.

They show freedom

A silky fabric that wraps around the excitement of a smile

And tickles the burst of laughter.

They show hunger

The deep dissatisfaction of every turn in this tunnel

And the rumbling of starving minds scraping for the last bit of love.

They show joy

The permanency of simply feeling in this life of colorless chaos

And using that to step over the walls that stalk high around our souls.

They show the demons that kick at us until we are no more

But petals of a broken flower

Unable to piece ourselves together again or give life a second chance.

They show us.

Who we really are in this life of beginning and end.

Who we stand by in this circle of eternity.

What our purpose is in this book of scribbles and tales.

After all, that is what we are

Just a pair of eyes.

The garden

Open wounds crave a touch

Its forbidden fruits reek judgement

The clock lusts for new eve

My good luck charm

I once had a good luck charm.

Not small enough to fit in my pocket

Not big enough to be seen from outer space

But good enough to grant my deepest desires.

Things that startled my inmost being

That would dive into undiscovered waters

And swim until life lessons washed up on its shores.

My good luck charm had the power to do this.

I was hypnotized by my good luck charm.

It convinced me that its entirety was the solution to all issues that confronted me.

That my mind was unoriginal and bleak,

Incapable of devising the simplest thing like my next step.

I was in love with my good luck charm.

A reminder that real love existed despite uncalled for energy

I was eager to rekindle this love with any chance I got

I would relive my mistakes just to assure that my good luck charm loved me hard enough

To turn those mistakes into life lessons.

I was ruined by my good luck charm.

I entered into a world of hopeless enthusiasts and loafers.

I gave my good luck charm life and it gave me the opposite

Luck.

The type that dances with chance and gambles with tomorrow

What would I do with the face that was seated across from me?

Tell them that they succeeded at giving me luck

But failed at giving me life’s most important lesson: life.


dorcas marfo

Dorcas Marfo is a freelance multimedia journalist with a niche for poems. All things creative and all things writing gives her a blend of digitalized storytelling. Through this medium, her emerging brand 20 STRY is partnering with small businesses to further their conversations that are centred on personalized storytelling. This collection was made in 2018 and originally features 20 poems.