Coo Me My Dove

By Mairo-the-Poet:

Our love
At its coolest should be hotter than an iron stove
At its sweetest much sweeter than honey.
Let roses sprout from the gentleness of our soft noon
Let the primrose stand guard at our feet
Where the cherries blossom at our tender union.
I am in love, I don’t know how to love
You are my dove, coo me to cherish you!


Born and bred in Zimbabwe. Currently living and working in South Africa. A primary school teacher by profession but a Performance Poet by design. My father was a wood-carver, so I fancy myself a word-carver. To me poetry is life, therefore the purpose of art is to comment on the human condition.

Articles: 15

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