Monthly Archives: February 2012

Ye ye o (between a dancer and a drummer) :: Jessica Horn

…embodying Oshun….from Jessica Horn’s debut poetry chapbook Speaking in Tongues.

yellow petal falls

into oshun’s river,

flows golden


waterspirit awakens inside

our pores bloom with drumbeats

melodious skin


I cover my hair with

white cloth, bathe in amber water-

falls of drumspeaksound



by space and sighs

we travel

from neck to ankle


our incompleteness


divine humanity


we dreamed

we dreamed

we dreamed

we could

make love

to music

ride high

on the sound

that     slips    off

leather and

mango wood


in its sap and




purple blue black

purple blue black beads

skins beads sweat beads skin

salt wet salt skin salt wet salt

tongue. teeth. thighs.

(c) Jessica Horn


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Mariska Taylor-Darko’s poetic reflections on domestic violence

A beating for love
Your fist pounded my face
In shock I stood there
Not moving, not screaming
The first time it happened
You said you beat me because you loved me.

You put the blame on me
I don’t remember doing wrong
Your gambling and drinking
Your womanising and flirting
Your problems and woes
Were all my fault
And you said you beat me because you loved me

I asked you why you did this
“You made me do it “you said
“I love you, that’s why I beat you”

I never knew love was like this
Maybe no one ever told me.
I thought love was loving and caring,
Laughter and happiness
Not this—a beating for love

I grew old in my heart
My love turned to fear and hate
I lived only in dread of that fist in my face
Why didn’t I go, why?
Because I loved you
And you said you loved me that’s why you beat me.
I cried myself to sleep, silently
So you wouldn’t hear in case I got another fist in my face.

Is this love?
A fist in the face
I must have dreamt the other love
The movie star love
The storybook love
The pure clean love
What have I done to deserve this?
This angry fist in my face.

The hand that beats me caresses me
I can’t move away
Can’t say what’s in my heart,
No one must know my shame
I lay there beaten inside, dead inside, hating inside, dying inside
Holding on to you- not in love but in fear
While dreading the morning because I’ll get another fist in my face
And you’ll whisper between the kisses, I beat you because I love you. Bull Shit!
(C) Mariska Taylor-Darko 2007

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