Through Vangi-tinted glasses

Perspectives from an African

Peasants Paint Scorched Vines February 28, 2012

Filed under: Poems by Vangi — Vangi Gantsho @ 12:41

This is the price that often comes with true love.  For the brave few who dare to love completely, it’s a risk we take…that our love might not be returned.  And the pain that comes with that.  That is the pain that no one can comfort us from.  It is the pain that we must live through, and often we feel the only way to do that is through regret.  Perhaps by turning the love into some bad memory we once had, we can change the past and make it easier to walk away…but in actual truth, we just ruin a perfectly pure and memorable life-long experience.

 

Peasants Paint Scorched Vines

 

Peasants weep as jesters for the king

and artists must die

to give their masterpieces life

In a world that should have

that could have

I learnt that even the gentle flame

can bring harm to the finest of vines

when we don’t

 

So

 

I love you in ways my sorrow

cannot forgive

from a deep pit within my chest

that distances itself from

my rational

I have carved you a throne

crowned you king and

fallen victim to the tyranny

of your absence.

You have made me that peasant

who weeps for mercy

at emerald phones

constantly rejected by servants

who bask in the poetry of your presence

and snicker at this girl

who has forgotten her place

 

I love you in ways my sleepless nights

cannot overlook

beyond glistening eyelids

and imaginations that

spark hope

I have painted You, my portrait

framed You, my masterpiece

neglected in the basements

of your absence.

You have gathered dust awaiting my death

Your betrayal will emerge when I have passed

some random vagabond will remove my dust

and relish in the fortunes of your smile…

never knowing the artist

behind the frame that so selflessly

makes you worth that extra rand

 

And I realise now

 

I should have burnt you at the stake

before you said hello

thrown your charms into the furnace

before your heat kissed my skin

before your flames devoured my cave

I should never have let you

paint my breasts

with possibilities of red and orange

I should have forbidden you from filling my head

with thick grey lies

 

And

 

You could have been gentler with my vines

With some compassion

our harvests could have produced bottles

of TrueLove’s finest

With only the slightest commitment

you could have sipped

the richness of fermented affections                                                            and

if that was not your wish…

you could have simply left

Instead of watching me mature

into this sad bottle of nothingness.

 

And I know now that

 

Peasants do indeed weep

as jesters for the king

and artists must truly die

to give their masterpieces life

In a world that should have

that could have

I learnt that even the gentlest of flames

can bring ruin to the finest vines

when we don’t.

 

So we love without caution

And when that love is not

returned

we hurt without solace

 

                                                By:  Vangile Gantsho ©

 

11 Responses to “Peasants Paint Scorched Vines”

  1. Andiswa Says:

    WOW Vangs super proud of you keep the poetry in motion mnchwaaaa sweets

  2. Moses Says:

    Ke kwa bose, a goswe legong go šale molra bagaGantsho!

    Mošate!

  3. Moses Says:

    Ke kwa bose, a goswe legong go šale molora bagaGantsho!

    Mošate!

  4. Andile Says:

    Was just passing by, and I came across your website and now this beautiful poem, hitting me like needles, and bringing memories of old, how I miss him, knowing that I can never have him nor do I even want him, too many ashes there, dead sand with no hope for life, love in its crude comfort, awaits me again with a different king this time, on the other end. I love the way you have depicted love as a play, love as a sacred glass dish that dares not fall… yet falls time and time again and it don’t breakeven either…love this poem…you have made me fall in love with poetry all over again

  5. mindevelop Says:

    You are PHENOMENAL!!! you inspire me with your writing everyday…

  6. laragemini Says:

    “I love you in ways my sorrow cannot forgive from a deep pit within my chest that distances itself from my rational” The lines shook my heart like an earthquake, a tear rattled my eye. I know this. I have felf this. Thank you Vangi


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