The Poet I Never Was

Scrabbling down neat rows,
The ink glistens,
Always sapphire.

Descending into nought,
The deep seated cravings lower me,
Into the pools of thought.
Always alone.

In the fleeting sunlight,
Golden joy dancing on my skin,
But at night?
Gloom takes hold,
Always fright.

Sapphire ink,
Jotting down yellow sunlight and black fright.
Dyes draining down the sink.
Coagulating thoughts of might,
Let down with the delicate reality of a dink.

Then you came,
And I dipped myself in paint,
While you were content to hold me up; my own frame,
Sitting on an easel,

No more cravings,
Or thoughts tumbling,
Arranged in rows of sapphire ink.
I always thought myself the poet I never was.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2015


The soft sucking sounds

Of air giving way.

The musk of your perfume

Arousing my nostrils

The firm warmth of your breasts

Crushed against my chest.

The cinnamon taste of your tongue,

Spicy and treacly.

The soft moan,

Strangled in your throat.

That moment,

When we kissed.

Lips to lips,

Noses tingling

And eyes closed

While the world melted away

To nothing.

I knew in that moment


I love you.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

Words of a Cynic

Too much of everything is bad

Yeah even the good things

Good doused with a big pinch of salt.

Too much love is bad

Because it blinds one to the truth

Which in turn is mostly ugly

And can ruin carefully structured relationships.

Too much selflessness is self degrading

Talk about being a pawn to people who don’t give a damn about you.

Too much help is bad

Spoils the need for independence and self growth.

Sacrifice sucks.

Why die for someone to live and waste his life staring through a glass bottle?

Too much light is bad

In seeing everything you cannot envision one thing.

Trust can be the death of a man

For a snake knows not the hand that feeds him.

Obedience is the sword of the oppressor

Quick to smite

Never questioning.

Kindness is a bully’s weapon


It makes one look weak and low spirited.

Lo the light of good blots out the darkness of bad

But hey if killing is wrong then why not let the wicked live?

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

I Am A Child

I Am A Child

I am invincible.
I am immortal.
I am hope.
I am the future in the present.
I am the legacy of the past.
I am the world’s greatest.
I am a child.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

Thinking About You

Thinking About You

If today
was the last day of my life,

And my mind
was deluded in strife,

While the
poison of lead coursed through me,

settling in my tummy,

I would
think of you.

If we never
spoke again,

And I had
to be ferried across the river by a boatswain

So your
voice would not echo in my head

emotions like thread

I would
think of you.

If I had to
put my eyes out

So as to
conceal your pretty pout

Or glimpse
into your soul

To never
see the burning Sol

I would
think of you.

If all I
have of you,

memories in the bayou,

Of moonlit
nights and the loup-garou

Or funny
pictures of you and a kangaroo

I would
think of you.

I will
always love you.

Even force
my head to agree too.

For that
moment in time we shared,

Was my
favourite bed spread

So I would
think of you.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014



I start and I stop

And wonder why the clouds never drop

And instead make my clothes flop.

Raindrops prance on my roof; clip clop.

Annoying chore; going mop mop mop.

Chasing mud and water from the top.

Little wonder rainy days are a sour sop.

They leave dead leaves and nasty brown slop.

And smells to make your ears lop.


© Sena Kodjokuma, 2014


I will pick myself


And wipe the

Back of

My bloody mouth

When the dust settles.

© Sena Kodjokuma, 2014