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JO AFRICA is an affiliate of "The East African Library of Creative Writings" operating mostly online. It's the fiction trend leader that publishes creative works such as poems, novels, short stories, essays, inspirational and motivational speeches from both local and international up-coming and well established novelists, poets and essayists. The forum provides ground-breaking spicy poems, short stories, lesson notes and so forth and so on concerning literature that can help a student, a teacher or any other interested fellow who loves learning through works of art. Registration is free and takes less than 2 minutes. The term "Jo Africa" is of Luo origin literally translating to "The Africans" or "The Natives of Africa". The term was coined by Jonathan Tafreg, the proponent and the founding father of FICTION CORRIDOR, the East African based Literature Society. Join us today and be part of this prestigious avant-garde literature sanctuary.

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Jo Africa
Jo Africa

Age : 33
Posts : 160
Points : 3379
Job : Secondary English Language Teacher

PostSubject: A MIDNIGHT VISITOR   Sat Oct 06, 2018 12:33 pm

When the sun goes down, she wears a long face,
Then she takes her anti-aging pills, and a necklace,
As if she wants to live forever young, she takes a pace,
Straight to the bathroom, her most sacred place.
Then she sits on her dressing table, for about three hours,
Beautifying herself, the little victim of ours,
She dresses her bed, with perfumes and some flowers,
Waiting for imponderables; her darkened powers.
She prepares the table, for the one below,
The one that enters, not through the door,
The midnight incubus, initiates the show,
He does so heavily, until the cockcrow.
Early the next day, a husband comes,
He finds his sweetheart, speaking in tongues,
Her slim body tattooed, with talons and fangs,
For her midnight visitor, had stolen her lungs.
He cries like a baby, for leaving her alone,
Then he holds her hand, ‘Oh baby I’m home’
Only then when he realize, she was long gone,
On the table was a letter; on it was a big stone.
He use to come every day, at the midnight,
Whenever I refused, he would start a big fight,
Threatening to eat me, that my heart was his right,
He loved it in darkness, he hated the light.
I had no the choice, Oh poor unlucky me,
I heard no your voice, you never called me,
The thought got me moist, nobody warmed me,
So he came to hoist, the flag that dangled me.
If we’re to meet again, maybe in the next life,
I won’t bear the pain, that of being your wife,
And I’ll wash the stain, the blood on my knife,
And I’ll curse again, for ruining my life.
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