Appreciation Day

Hello guys. It’s been a while since I last dropped something here. My last piece might need some review (for the lack of a better word) but I don’t think I’d do such.
I do think i need to appreciate you guys for coming here, reading and sharing and dropping comments. I am grateful. You guys are the bomb. While some of you might find my poetry a lot more weaker and some might think it’s even better, I just wanna say thank you. Today I might be doing one last serious poem for the time being. I want to try some romance and see if I’m still in touch with that side but please enjoy these for now.

Bucolics

Bucolics couldn’t teach you
That nature takes a course, beautiful.
Brother! How come mother’s cry sears not your heart?
That you vigorously furrow her loins?

I’ve heard your chants, afar and loud
A broom palmed,
An umbrella held by your armpit
Just in case
It rains, so you could don the green and red
Like a flag.

The ballots awaits our thumb
Pressed with tremor
For a system that yields
Sleeves “long or short”.
Brother, I can see you bought father,
And made him dance
Naked, shamelessly gyrating
To the drums you beat
For crumbs.
You being the “wind wey don blow fowl nyansh”,
Such entertainment for his sons.
Like a family rite this dance,
That waltzed his father to the grave.

* * * *

Seasons

There comes a time, a season
Where it all withers
And fall and crumbles
As we reach across desperately,
Trying to fix things
Trying to fix what we should have saved.

There comes a time when it grows
Cold as the eerie breath of harmattan
Cracking lips, rising dust turning voices hoarse
While we have the baphomet’s for face
After all, the devil lies in the heart of mankind
Why shouldn’t evil wear the face of men?

Forty kids left
Seeking knowledge, looking forward
To their friends, to the match after class.
Their souls lits, their parents’ tear
Apart, is what death tore them, taunts them.

Would there be a time, a season
Where life shoots from rot,
And we reach and connect in warmth
As time crawls, etching emblems of spring
Into hearts hardened by pain,
Beautiful and serene in our memories
And thoughts?

Alright guys. Let’s have your comments. Which do you prefer?

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8 comments

  1. goldenwura · December 7, 2014

    I prefer seasons because I felt bucolics didn’t stick to a particular theme and confused me at some point.
    You’re an excellent poet sir.
    My favorite line is “trying to fix what we should have saved”

  2. Alafia Dauda · December 7, 2014

    Forgive me sir, but you understand, not being a poet myself, I can point no wrong or right. I do however love these, especially seasons well mostly because I understood it better. I must say however that you painted beautiful pictures in my head.

    You are an excellent poet:)

  3. Kukogho Iruesiri Samson · December 7, 2014

    Reblogged this on Words Rhymes & Rhythm.

  4. kaylatee · December 8, 2014

    Nice! I prefer seasons…. I like the idea of Bucolics and I got the message(s) – from most of it, but I prefer Seasons.

  5. reubenrane · December 12, 2014

    Bucolics of course. The diction is quite graphic, giving the reader more color to guide their comprehension. The question “Brother! How come mother’s cry sears not your heart?” gots to be my favorite line.

  6. zeenike · March 21, 2015

    I preferred Bucolics. Somehow I understood it better, and I liked the writing.
    Sorry I came late.

  7. Ayodeji Asaolu Emmanuel · June 2, 2015

    Really lovely poems, enjoyed both and got the msg clearly

  8. Sopuruchi · June 15, 2015

    For me,i prefer season because i understood it very well.You are really a good poet sir.

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