The sun is not rising anymore

When the sun rises,

I close my curtains to block out the light,

My habit does not ask me to be open nor to change,

It lets me get stick to it until I get sick of it,

I saw many sunrises with different shapes, but every time I brought down the curtains to let them in, a part of me goes away;

my trust, my self-esteem, my beliefs, my freedom.

Only two things stay, my humanity and my curiosity to find out why this is happening to me ..

Why every time I open up it hurt?

Why people that I was proud to call best friends intimidated me?

Why someone with a gifted birthmark should be suspicious or taken as a sign of rebellion by police officers?

Why people who cry for diversity on television news are the most insociable in real life?

Why the government instead of protecting people are dividing them?

Why do women abide the worst for so long to dramatically come out of the closet?

If you have an answer to all of these questions, then you will have a clear perception of why I keep my curtains closed,

You will acknowledge that even with open curtains, the light will not enter in,

The sun is not rising anymore.

Author: Adama Konate

Cr. Image: Alamy

Blog: @etoilesage

The top of the peaks

At the top of the peaks,

Live our hopes,

Reside our optimism,

There is light.

At the top of the peaks,

Like passing clouds,

Our life goes through this abyss,

In search of the light.

At the top of the peaks,

Our eyes are turning,

To pray, to hope,

To seek the light.

At the top of the peaks,

We must reach it,

Without ever doubting,

The very shadow of light.

And when the mountains,

Will go like clouds,

And when the mountains,

Let the light pass.

Finally, we will have succeeded,

At the top of the peaks.

@etoilesage

Silence knows you

Stay awake, well planted on your feet

Be present there, where you are

Look around you

Without putting a name, a state, a speech,

On what you perceive, nearby and in the neighborhood,

See light, shapes, people, colors

Removes error, judgments, odors,

Everything has a taste, and carries a rhyme

Meaning the presence that animates them

Even the object that seems useless

Everything has its interest

Everything has been created

In life, in love or pain

And even if you approach one day

Something that resembles conflicts

Who weighs you, who is heavy

Listen, sense the energy that flows

Even if you can not see it

And that seems ridiculous

Try a little bit

Do you really dive in?

In this strange, this ocean

Who pushes you forward

See what is hidden in detours

This might sound like a desire

A desire for life

Even in the confines of suffering,

The silence knows you

It is not very far from you

You will hear his voice

If you stop a little

Maybe you could see him,

Can be with your eyes

Then you will stay there, well planted on your feet

Look at him.

• When I took my pen in hand, I had no idea of what to write about. But, I feel like writing something. So, I stayed silent for an hour and a half ruminating. Suddenly, I came with this imagination seeing myself talking to Mr. Silent. He stayed silent as if he knows every words I was going to say. We did not talk at all but we had a really great conversation, I learned from him that by ruminating we permit ourselves to be more open to things and also it is not what you see that count but what you perceive . Nowadays, the majority are people who like/dislike the title of the book without reading it. My poem has also a psychology meaning lol do not worry ”I’m not trying to get into your mind”. Allow silence to do that, trust me he will not say a word. He knows what privacy means, your secret will be safe with him. He is a dumb genius, who uses telepathy to communicate. He and I are good friends now. He gives me ideas, I write it down.

ADAMA KONATE 

IF LIFE IS A DREAM

If life is a dream

Why torture me?

I can get drunk without remorse

And if I come to stagger

I will fall asleep under the porch of my home

When I wake up a bird sings among the flowers.

I ask him what day we are.

He answers: in the spring,

The season when the bird sings!

I feel strangely moved

And ready to blow out.

But I return to drink

And I sing all day long

Until the evening moon appears.

And when my songs are silent

I am no longer conscious of what surrounds me.

Tears

The sea at the edge of the eyelashes; 

Ravishing your eyes with a shade of bitterness; 

Thought that overflows the vase of your sadness; 

One drop falls; ‘; 

Sliding along your cheek and slipping between your lips. 

Bitter salt; 

Like the pain that gnaws at you. 

Then another; ‘; 

This one is also salted. 

Then two others; ‘; ‘

An ocean around you; 

You swim;

 In fear ; 

 Alone ; 

You float then you run;

 Slowly ; 

You are drowning; 

You die ; 

By being always so alive; 

You disappeared ; 

But I see you; 

You are sinking; 

In the air ; 

It’s finish ; 

At the bottom of the ocean ; 

You fled.

ADAMA KONATE

Ô Sky , Ô infinite

Ô Sky , Ô infinite

Under your vault, color azure

I look at you and reassure me,

Of all my tones, sometimes obscure

Not a flash, not even a wound

Do not take me away from your sphere, from your pure web

I look at you, you look at me

And all is said, in the silence of my soul

Opens up a little more,

Every day, every life

Your huge sheet of snow

Blue or gray satin

And even if our eyes

Attach more to clouds

Take them always

A bit higher

A little further

Let them not stop at mirages.

The sun is there, behind, at its anchorage

He waits his turn, peaceful and wise

Let the page be turned to him,

So proud, happy just like a God

He points his crown

And shines with all its lights

And in its light

Majestic beauty

I find my heart

My warmth, my truth.

Ô Sky,

Ô Infinite!

Author: ADAMA KONATE 

Road

Somewhere in the world,

A person seeks his way,

In the confines of despair without any idea,

He finds the path of an endless bitterness.

Sadly affected with the evil ideas which follow him,

Obligate to discover an unhappy loneliness,

While crossing its drunken territories,

Appear some painful emotions.

Holding his dreams,

Not showing any emotion,

A blinding force traces its way,

On an immaculate road,

There is a thirst for freedom,

Who only absorbs the goodness of humanity,

Give courage to these orphaned crossroads of gaiety,

Clings to his green dream a road full of mist.

Author: ADAMA KONATE

Confidence of an Immortal Part.2

I consent boastful that you can look at me,
However, it is utopian to keep me.

Do not wait for me in the pitfalls of the turns,

My path is right and devoid of torment.

Do not multiply me by penalties on tortures,

I am an absorbing element of nature.

You will deprive me of walking and studying,

But never to advance, to know and to pray.

You can cut short my health and gas,

But never to my influence and existence.

I do not underestimate your fortress,

I admit that you are as hard as my weakness

As long as you have divorced with pity

To preach the idolatry of enmity.

You have tried in vain to promote the indigestible,

I remain flexible, clairvoyant and modest.

Speak to me I remain an eloquent mute.

Visit my ego, discover a conscious madman.

Wolves follow your animosity,

The world melts, so you sell your fraternity.

Take back your conscience, do not kill the immortal,

Who speaks to you is not a man as such.

Intimate antagonist; Do not persist,

It is high time to get rid of the wrong steps.

You have made yourself ladder of the poor subordinates,

Let them climb, do not make them look dull,

Do not block your stifled voices

Of those in boiling oil are heated.

Be sagacious and perspicacious to find that:

Humanism will only cost you altruism.

Wildness is woven with selfishness.

Submission to the law is a precious gift.

Honor and glory crown pardon.

With amenity one can be tamed

Thus will occur the expected unity.

As for my ancestors whose life you shortened,

I have made a clean sweep of every crime committed.

I forgave you.

ADAMA KONATE

Confidence of an Immortal #P.1

I want to shout out loud to the deaf voluntarily

Whoever refuses to listen to me wants to be silent.

This explosive defuses the boy.

Who makes war his beloved ornament.

This ax hurts the obstinate heart

All enchanted to see my person mined.

This extinguisher calms the inflamed spirits

Pretended to injure my lame reputation.

You! Waterproof core, hive without door;

How dare you to swell like that?

For a long time you have been ecstatic with my sobs,

Your blows assail me in my retreat on the island.

My tears drove you like a picturesque fall,

Nevertheless, my Lord liquefies your soldiery.

Your wickedness amplifies my love,

Your ferocity stimulates my affection,

Far from inciting me to reactions of violence,

Your eccentricities rinse my tolerance.

You made my patrimony your medal

And I have always ignored reprisals.

You strut in the sumptuous castles

Whose pillars are we; Beggar with unctuous hearts.

If you knew who hoisted you on this great throne,

You would become a good woman and I would be your patron.

In spite of the hymn on the theft of my due,

My silence keeps you constantly hanging.

Reason duly, do not do the seraph *!

Know that your hegemony is not endless.

(Is it that)

The sky gave me full freedom

Allow me to face you with pride.

You hate me, I agree with my colleague,

But your limits on me are very clear;

Take away my eyes, my soul will see thee,

And he will set you up as he pleases.

Undoubtedly, it is your rights to see me,

Yet you are not likely to have me.

ADAMA KONATE

America

To America, 

The mother of the proud warriors of colors 

Who by their wisdom and courage 

Have made her a queen.

To America, to this torch that my grandmother holds on the edge of the distant river.

The torch of independence, the independence of your territory.

The torch of freedom, the freedom of your children. 

The torch of prosperity, the prosperity of humankind.

The torch of heritage,

That the vast expanses of this old continent offer you in the golden cities 

And mythical countries of Eldorado, 

Norembergue and Saguenay.

The torch that never extinguishes.

Held by the hand of the victory.

To America, my America of whom sings my grandfather on the banks of the distant river

I never knew you but my gaze is full of your blood

The blood of your sweat, 

The sweat of your work,

The work of slavery,

The bondage of your children

America tell me America. 

Is it you the most powerful bird that by its greatness and its capacity has made its nest on the moon.?

This white headed bird 

Who reaches the inaccessible and meditates on the impossible.

Then gently a reassuring voice answered me:

Impetuous Girl this robust and young bird 

That bird splendidly up there 

Away from prying eyes

Looking for shelter near the blue and cold river 

It’s America, your America that flies,

That flies over latitude attentively 

And whose wings are determined to go far, far into the future. 

Can you see it now?

No. 

Well, this is America.
ADAMA KONATE