Monday, 23 September 2013


There is rattling and rattling in the Achilles tendon
Rushing and rushing of the memorial vendor
Towards the season’s decent regalia
As the widening keeps twining above the shoulder
Sanity is reserved for the posterity
Hence, the nights make way, for a perfect gaze is killing
Emotions left on the loose, that in the middle of a lip-lock
Quadruple eyes are left wide awake
You are not hanging everywhere whenever I stare

A moon that scudded past the face of the night
A blurry vision in my ceiling in these lazy mornings
A solitary chorister, standing alone in the dark
Singing into deaf ears of an imaginary audience
Standing erect in the corner like strangers
Your fragrance wanes into a desired miasma
My ear bleeds of the fracas of compassion
Two parts apart but intertwined, for us I groan
But my hollow cheeks decline tear drop
However, we could make our love bounce off vault
So high that it would look down on the sky
Hence my cupid dispatch arrows
But your heart runs farther
Are you among the dusk of the morning?
The air seems so crowded, but then; at a time
The donkey’s mouth would fit the ocean’s lips
The ebb and flow of the tide of the ocean seems dashing
But, its love isn’t without its garb, when its rage is up the spout
Our hearts trapped afire, its flame spread beyond refuge
Our soulsremain then retire beneath the unobtrusive ocean

by Wole

No comments:

Post a Comment