The Saying Goodbye to Vero’ Series
continues today with more poets airing their muses’ words.
‘…Only Poets are in the best position to understand and
interpret the shady blurred reality of death…’
…Odeyemi John Law
Read and comment.
***
Two Poems
ETERNAL NIGHT
A
POSTHUMOUS WREATH FOR A SISTER COLLEAGUE
ALELE TI LE, OJUMO O MO MO
ILE SUU KIRIKIRI---- WHERE IS
THE ELEGANT MORNING?
Dawn has been assassinated;
eternal night triumphs.
I prepared soft and classical eba
Awaiting
the herbal leaf of efo
Rather.
My ear is fed with lullabies of bedtime
Eemo re o*** abomination* when
did eba become mortal?
Chieftaincy is a corollary of royalty
A
matriarch with peacock’s head and antelope’s feet
Has been p l u c k ed by impetuous death;
impish and peevish
Oyemade
From
friendship, you’ve ellipted ship- detaining friend
To aid your procession with the convoy of
pioneers of a(fter)lives
You have taken a pause and punctuated
corporeal life
Just
that we miss the vacuum you fill; the enduring requests.
I
won’t make iku proud by shedding my eyes
Won’t
grotesque my countenance with gloomy cosmetics
In
the womb of my heart; the soil of my lead you shall gain life
OYELOLA,
yeyeola, yeye- oye-laaa
*** *** ***
VERONICA
was abducted into death’s lair but engendered life.
Babajide Michael Literati
***
LAMENT FROM THE GRAVE
I deserve a funeral rite
Despite the plodding angst in the abyss of your mind
A six-feet at least
Even if I heaped sorrow on your heart
I was once the harbinger of your joy
The vortex that enlivened the happiness in your home
When I sprouted
You were all glad
I know
But why was I shrouded like a minion?
Lowered by mere acquaintances?
Blame not my destiny
For ramming into me half way
For bringing an end to my story
Take heart and be sad no more
Recompense looms
For I will return
Think not of me
But you
Maybe we shall meet.
Matthew Bisi Adewuyi
1 comments:
The first, a folkloric dirge, still bemoaning the enshrouded moon half-way to the bang of the dawn.
Love the second better; it is a move away from the trend of throbbing hearts feigning angst, pity and mourning.
It is a sad tone from the grave. Only this captures my opinion. Enough of these outcries; she's not at the war front again. The battle is ours to fight; she had fought hers and victorious homeward she lays. Resplendent embroidered crown adorn her head - the crown no earthly king can lay hold on.
Ohh, this bears her voice... Saddening, toneless, and full of anguish that we only bemoan her present state because she's now "shrouded like a minion', thus we tend to lower her into the ignominious deep by "mere acquaintances".
Thanks be the supreme being that we now realize that it is not enough to make a river of our watery eyes. She has spoken from the runny edge of the second poet. More affirmation that Poets have the wherewithal to see beyond their noses, peep into the hidden terraces of death and pitch the gloomy tent of drooping feelings.
Thank you Matthew! You've helped her relay her thought.
JOHN LAW
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