Dreams

                                                           

                Dreams are my affliction; they disease me

            Dreams drown me, fill me with sweetness

            Then disown me

            Rheumy dreams, lucid…pap solid

            I stir through

Storied dreams…folktale’s pleasure

            Agony of myths

            Bewilderment of legends

            Across these firmaments

            Reign I over Celestials

           

            Dreams, the writer’s ink

            Fuel this train of thought

            Oil this frenzied brain

            Let its engines steam vapour down

            And redefine gravity

           

Dreams; weapon of immortals

            Titan treasure, dialect of gods

            Dreams; a fool’s folly

            Rendezvous of soul and spirit

            Where Utopia opens…and Hades too

            Dreams; I dare dream

This chatter; dreams shatter

            New life, barter me.

           

A wish for a witch

                                                                         

           

                               

      

       She’s a witch, my mother

       Or how could she be so strong?

       They were right, her foes

       My mother’s a witch

       That’s why she don’t sleep at night

       Watching me, hovering, protecting me

       That’s how she does those things

       Real men fear, dread…

       Like childbirth…

       How could she know what furrows my brow

       When still to unravel, burrows my soul?

       I might be poor now, I may be ugly,

       I may be useless…

       But dear God, I have this one wish,

       For me, spare this witch…

       For as long as she lives, how can I fail?

The pity party

The dead pity the aimless, meaningless toil of the living

Appalled at the fickleness of it all, This living…

The living weep for the dead, cry at their leaving

‘Oku n sunkun oku, akawo leri n sunkun ara won’

The old pity the young, at their toil, reminiscing

In the days of old it wasn’t easy, even now it isn’t easy

The rich pity the poor for the obvious reasons

The poor return the ‘kindness,’ pray for the rich

And against contacting their diseases

‘k’eledua ma fi aisan olowo se wa o’

The married pity the unmarried, wishing them happily married

The unmarried look in at the married and wish they (the married) were indeed happily married

The employed pity the jobless…

Pray they never see the kind of hell they cross e’eryday

The jobless pity those in sub-service camps…after all that dust and to still come to naught?

Those in turn look to Aluta’s children and manage to stir their heads at them

Pity, if only they knew…

Downwards the pity descends, from Aluta’s children to Jamb’s children

While those with children empathize with the barren

Those without silently pray not to have troublesome children

3 million sperm cells keep coursing nonetheless

Keeping a date with the egg their cause

That lucky one keeping all others off their course

Pity, the only gift it gives for their ‘loss’

And the pity party starts all over again

From birth to death…

Gone, not forgotten

First kisses could be sloppy
Wet and harried like new born puppies
Bittersweet, yet lovely
Once tasted, forever remembered
Lives not more than fleeting seconds
A meeting of flesh that quickens heartbeat;
What best explains the word ‘excitement’?
The pink towel springs and thrusts
  So bold a thing, it explores
Deep and deeper, in and out
Journey it through creeks and valleys
But in the end, it’s all the same
Hot humid air ends the game


P.S   One of my very first documented poems written when imagination was all I had for company. Always planned to publish it on a valentine’s day but sometimes things don’t go the way you plan them. So, this pretty thing has been gathering dust in my archives (I kid myself, lol!) for 9 years or thereabouts. Hope you loved it? Have a ‘love-ly’ val’s day *winks*.

At you.

look at you,
so fair,when i dream,
i yearn,
to get lost in your hair,
if i do in you,i fear,
i will never be found,
rounded where there's need
real even when imagined,
exact and accurate in proportion,
at you,even mathematics would be pleased,
your eyes,well lit lamps,
twin orbs,whose ultraviolet rays pierce my very soul,
and your lips,no doubt far nourishing than rose hips,
to see them in a smile would be a dream come true,
how can i not feel blue?when to me,you,
still live in my dreams,
sad,yes,
sadder but to love you,
there's no alternative.