Yeefi Lady Sowe Rek - My Blueberry Pie ( Love Poem)

My sugar sauce

My snuggle pie

And

My wifey patootie

This poem is for you

Swim in your red sea like Moses

Shake your hips steadily, red like roses

Play ball for Nigeria and win like Victor Moses

MLS, the last breath of her lips

Kinky like Binzy

Hon', you ain't Tipsy

Heading to my lips, call her Lipsey

On the lights, 'Dafa over lendam'

Hold me tight like Vandame

'Ndo-bi daffa dangam'

Kiss her on her breast

Open her bra and get the sauce in it

Eat this fish, drink her juice, spread the news in it;

'Ku kebettu tekci hellu, hana giss'

Say the S after the ML

Spell the word Lady ML, with the S in it

Like my ancestors, I pray for segregation

So green like a vegetation

Beautiful Cupcake full of beauty and grace

Yeefi Lady Sowe Rek, sitting high on her throne

No one can take your place

Your heart is full of pure gold!

You're burning my boxers

Jumping over

London bridges am off the hitches

Sand on the beaches,

Sexy than all these witches

Bae, my brown sugar eye-candy

I drank a bottle of kerosene after done looking at your pictures

A good woman is what you are

A woman who is proud of who she is and what she stands for

A strong woman is what I see when I look at you

One who can pick up the small pieces of her broken heart

And carry on as if she was never hurt in the first place

Hold up, babe!

Lemme switch hands

I know you just wondering who this poem is for

I used to love you

Because love never dies

But it can kill

I love you like a father

Wanna marry you like a husband

You can see the devil in my features

Paint the husband in my pictures

You're the image of a queen

The apple in the eyes of a king

You keep my desire burning

A woman of prime

The treasure that's so priceless

The best of time

The reason am always timeless

So fruitful every season

To let you down, I'd no reason

The love of my unbeatable life

I can make you my wife

Because you're really and truly a bride

The woman of faith and blessings

The one am loving and never missing

With you, the feeling is so passionate

Kind and so affectionate

Sandwiched between the geography of your thighs

Chocolate biscuits in your eyes

Babe, you're milk

You're sweet in the middle

Play the music of my song, Google the giggle

Shout-out to ST n' Jizzle

Spend my revenue

The epitome of tender compassion

The champion of all mothers

The best kind of a sister and an aunt 

The caregiver of a country

The one that supports the fathers

The keeper of the home

You damsel, the Dam of Egypt!

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An Open Letter to My Future Wife - Lady ML Sowe

Dear Ladybird,

 I write this letter in a state of La douleur exquise – a French word meaning

the heartbreaking pain of wanting someone you can’t have, to speak to in a way that only you can understand. Excuse the ambiguous words you'd be reading here because you're my queeny goddess of beauty and splendid splendor of gorgeousness, my svelte, my sleuth, my swain, my inamorata, my ladylove, my tootsie, and my heartthrob.

If love kills, I want to die in your hands. Learn to see true love when you see one as it comes to you. Why will you still search for what's already found? If you leave a man of VISION for a MAN of TELEVISION, you end up watching the man of vision on your television. Don't allow what's yours to come up to your legs and you still want to search for it. Are you willing to sacrifice your life to be my darling wife? Am living in the future, the present is my past. Free at last, am free at last: when the ice is freezing in the glass; if it's me you love, your heart will never be broken, your death feelings will all be awoken, I don't love with a token. 

I'll never lie, babe, you'll never cry, call me never die. Listen, if it's me you choose, you won't mistake a gander for a goose, in Wollof, 

''niit ku nyul nyo sokhor aa-nyan mun dul, fuck off, dul.''

I like it when you smile across the mile, arranging my files, palpitating my liver and bile, like Mungo Park, I want to discover your Nile. Smile let the sunburn, smoke the rays let the light jump. Is my duty to be your happiness and fill in your emptiness. My love for you is so corrupt like an African president - let me die in corruption - this love is no commotion. Let me get the riddims playing in my head out as the clouds gather, pouring the holy water in the holy hour, tower - I like it when I see you taking shower; like when money is coming in between the boobs like bus-lines, moreover, my trousers, you murdered them, if winning is a title, I will kill Michael. 

Showing off the size of your bra when I throw my chest in, smoke the sun let the rays jump, remove the comma take the full stop, let me lick your soup pot, kill the hour let the clock jump, open the tap let the bubbles pump. I miss your sauce, need your milk, and let me get the juice boy. 

In Wollof, ' Fi halleh buffi yaaruwut dinajla nyuss boy''

Lol! That sounds like poetry. I'm not only a poet, am poetry. What a poet does is poetry! I don't like too much noise to be heard that am harder than all these boys. If our love was a book, it will be as big as an oxford English dictionary because our problems alone will be too many to write down. There won’t be any table of contents to discontent our court of contempt. I made a solemn pledge that I will break your every hedge. To smash the fetters that have restrained our progress. To loosen the shackles that have made us grow less. To halt the deliberate actions that have hurt our image. To discontinue the dereliction that has kept millions in bondage. Me, my grandmother never fed on evil. Let's define the artistic fortunes of the minion and dominion of Satan.

Listen, I understand you are hurting and you want the pain to stop. Or maybe you aren’t hurting anymore because you’ve moved past the hurt and onto apathy or numbness where you just do not care anymore. Either way, you are somewhere in a grief-loss matrix of what was and, more importantly, what could have been the solution for our past. I blabber, I blush, I lose control of all my senses, I keep jumping over fences like I am on diverging lenses, driving the latest Benz (es), breaking down the trenches, and can't stop reading your old texts. The depths of the darkness looming over my falling crown could be addressed as you're my muse, my fuse, my world, my sickness, my pain, my joy, my mental frustration, my consort, and the reason I refused to refuse to be confused and misunderstood.

But, please, before you make this huge decision, can we chat about the realities of what happens when we marry? Like, the real and potential future. Not the idealized one that you have likely conjured up in your mind. Can you recall our love songs and raps on phone; goes like this:

Bae am me

Gambia's finest writer

Trouble is my friend ain't falling in danger

Dama ekci rek gaay di gaiema express some anger

Yeah, mannla

Need no introductions, ham-nyen kanla

Kumci nehhut demlen lekka super kanja

Back in Niger, I had a student call Banda

Walked the streets of Bobiel to Harrobanda

I don't like Sprite, only drink Fanta

I quit Binta now dating Fanta

Manla, ML, anh, kanla?

Aliif Laaa Miim

Is me Modou Lamin

These haters nyo nekh laamign

Dinalen jangal kaamil

Am a dictator, call me Idi Amin

ML is Modou Lamin

Tasted the lips of Jamila now flirting Jamil 

Jamie to Janet, and then Anne Johnson 

Had pockets full of girls

Brikama to Lamin

I am only praying for you, say amen.

Affectionately, Your Future Husband

( VERY IMPORTANT: Please, do not forget to subscribe to my BLOG by typing your e-mail in the space above)

 My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email:

modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com

Kindly visit my mobile-friendly author website on this link :

http://www.modoulaminagealmusafsowe. doodlekit.com/home

 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc, kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without a written permission to, is an infringement of Copyright.