April 2011
8 posts
Noliwe
The weakness of the heart is holly… Ah! You think that I never loved her My Negress fair with palmoil, slender as a plume Thighs of a starlet otter, of Kilimanjaro snow Breasts of mellow rice-fields, hills of acacias under the East Wind. Noliwe with her arms of boas, lips of the adder Noliwe, her eyes were constellations there is no need of moon or drum But her voice in my head and the feverous...
