Writing

Source Written in response to the prompt of the week at Writer’s Island…. Gin poured on earth - Salt water, five lobed kola nuts With palm wine. White loincloth over Bare skin, white cockerel held Over head spun- Seven times, Till faint. Water, waist high Dirty brown infused with oil – Coloured sheen. Orange plumes belch- ing black smoke; *Yemanja, the fish have fled; The mangrove swamps have become A deathbed. There is no fresh fish - Pepper soup, no cassava plants Left unshrivelled; No respite From the stench of putrefying life. ...

Do misty eyes mean Pain festering deep Lean souls starved - Hope blithely crushed And purloined? Do memories mean Wounds left raw, rubbed sore, Chafed red - careless promises Blown away like ripples on a lake by a belligerent hurricane? Do clasped hands hide scars And wry smiles hide gloom

Source Shed Tears; Let pain like a malevolent fiend- Draw blood. Let go; Let the waves of a melancholic nostalgia- Break you. Pressure makes you whole again. Blame Fear; Blame Pain, blame sorrow deep within- Still Sing.

She smiles; Pearly teeth Glistening in The golden light Of the setting sun As it dips Beneath the trees That frame this Swiftly fading vista. The rings In her ears Resonate to A hidden rhythm Chiming to an- Unspoken song – One that I feel in The hidden parts of - My enchanted mind. Her eyes, Filled with mirth, Flit in the shades; These slowly Lengthening shadows; Drawing me From this earth To a distant place - Some vale where My pains regress, Where I have been Only in my Midnight dreams. Her hair Stands firm, Unfazed by the Swirling winds, Defiantly proclaiming Her pristine- African-ness Her skin - Ebony black- is Stretched taut Like a canvas - kissed By the gently dropping rain, And caressed By the drooping ferns. The lush green leaves on which she seats pale, losing their colour Acquiring a pallor Blighted by her light That floods my sight. Her feet- clad in scented sandals would deign to- walk this filthy earth. I, alas Like a man bewitched Can only stand- Enthralled, Drawn- By THAT smile that steals my all.

I, like a tired weary pilgrim, Trudge this earth, these stony paths so grim. Seeking, with ponderous wandering steps, Salvation from a marauding death. I, like a penitent prodigal son, Cling to the fading final notes of my long lost song Hoping that someday, somewhere within this earthly dome, I may find the beaten path that will lead home. I seek a hidden ledge on which to leave my heartfelt plea; Some place where my bloodied sacrifice I can leave. Where my guilt ridden heart can find peace and be held Close to my father, speaking words only he must hear. ...

The sadness in her eyes breaks me, Willing me to reach across the breach of hurt; To hold her hand and tell her it was all a dream. The painful lustre in her eyes, As they glistened in the candle light that night Would draw me into granting a reprieve that is not mine. She seeks a place to leave her wish. Where, at the feet of a gentle wizened priest, She can be relieved of a flagrant breach, a love once spurned. ...

Sometimes I wish I could fly and take myself away, to a distant land far removed from the scorching sun that bakes my earth into a stony hearth and burns it into a barren wasteland. Sometimes I wish I could run Fast enough to escape this darkness that coaxes me into a frenzied song and to a fevered dance; of mindless tongues that sear my lungs and wear my tired soul. ...

Today I killed you; Ripped apart from the very roots The vestiges of everything We once held dear. Yesterday The yawning chasms Finally took their toll, Harshly jerking us awake To the rasping rhetoric of a Reality birthed By things that would never be. I have been Broken like a gourd, Crushed like the petals of a rose Dismembered by feet in haste and shredded into bits By hands too calloused To care. ...

Yesterday, YOU broke My wild, frantic grab for hope. But I did not quit. Yesterday the skies Seemed bleak, left gloom, made me cry. I can smile again. Yesterday brought tears Shattered faith, left me in fear. But it’s over now. Yesterday my feet, Walked down roads despoiled by filth I am stronger now. Today, the sun peeked Through dross piled high at my feet. I can hope again. That Tomorrow comes, And with it flows hope, new songs. I can laugh again _ _

Wrote this for Chiedu Ifeozo’s Poetry for Charity Volume 2 Project….All proceeds go to nominated charities in Nigeria. You can buy a copy here. The skies are dark, pregnant as with an impending storm, The wind is fierce, strumming out a strident wail, Our tin shed creaks, as like a ship by wind assailed, Whilst we all cringe, In fear of what the storm will bring. The rains come down, like hell’s pent up rage by fiends released, Accompanied by hail, that batters down our scant solace, Our threadbare clothes, no respite from the cold can bring, As we sit mum, Remembering when the sun last shone. ...