Similes are assumptions
Metaphors are affirmatives
Standing by the pool
With a snake came a bull
So I ran to fetch my tool
On arrival, things were cool
But a voice screamed, April fool.
I have seen a basket fetch water
From lakes, streams and rivers.
I have seen a piece of fabric
Once in a flat and tiny box
Danced unaided like the winds
Rising from an ancestral spine;
Taping the spiritual energies of life,
By the sounds of an African drum.
Unspeakably, like the leaven of a yeast
It rises strong like a bunch of bamboos
Patterns are the orders of the world
But I fail to unravel a masquerade logic
So, come and see for yourselves
A piece of cloth and body of the gods
The gods of the land, you called dead
Sensationally, rising from lifelessness
To reclaim the heights from the roofs
Tallish Iroko tree and layers in the skies,
Come and see the famous Ebu wonder
As it dances and grows taller than trees.
You are free to disagree
Or grow as tall as a tree,
Berries and even a chimpanzee
Coated by Mendelian’s pea.
But as an awardee in Galilee
Wouldn’t you be the assignee
To the sweet loving honeybee
Turning lemonades into tea?
Would you setup a commitee
As a walking encyclopedia for free
To create a coffee of high degree
Imposing eternity, a mighty decree..
Would you make breathe germfree
Knowing that there is no guarantee
For these daily jamboree
Mustn’t be admired by the referee,
In the unending dark comedies
Disturbing storms, sailor’s sea
Life is a job, we are employees
Laboring as prospective retirees.
My love for you
Has not been told,
In songs of birds
Or even by toads,
So smile while I
Play my flute
For your muse
Our hearts to fuse,
This feelings found,
Similar to the pride
Of groom and bride,
In fog, mist or dew,
It is many not few…
It can only be viewed;
And can never be sold.
I am on the cliff of lingered breathes
As soon as the guts are lost
Every piece has its flashbacks;
Calories, and glories blocked.
On these cliffs are cracked hearts
Torn and worn rays of lights
Escaping from the rusted strings…
Imposing blurr and dull visions;
I am on the cliff with dampen brains;
And projections of broken images,
Disorienting the solace and the sun
With memories that are no more fun.
On these cliffs of lingered breathes
The song they sing, is off key and note
Sadder than death, painful and felt;
In great depth of the broken hearts.
Poetry is in all and sundry
From the moment of entry
Into eggs, bumps and wombs
Till placenta is discarded by midwives.
Round the clock, on a mother’s hand,
Is an innocent looking child
Crying, so sad like the world
Is about to come to an end.
She pets and worries all night,
She stretches her breast out
Then the child drinks and rest
On her heavenly milky chest…
She bathes and clothes her pretty child,
She is a designer, nurse, therapist,
And teacher, teaching the toddlers
How to talk, crawl and run.
Dusty flu comes and grabs her child
Using her sweet lovely honey mouth
She sucks and sniffs the catarrh out
From the nose of her innocent child.
Under her shadows, her child gets shaded
When hiding from the hot burning rays..
The love of a mother for her child
Is an old story that never dies.
In a deep noiseless dark
I did hear all they spoke
Effortlessly, then I woke;
Floating on a gracious flake.
Garri and salt, I used to soak
Hopelessly, until the break..
Behold, grace on me took
Me, into the flames of smoke.
In the air, mighty walls I crack
Breaking into the tall blue sky;
Flying like birds without a brake,
Grace on me is real not fake.
Relentlessly, for my humble sake
Success sacks fell on my arm to take
In the turbulent dark dead lake,
Grace on me is an iceberg’s puke.
When it pours, I float to the dyke
Waterproof covered with so much like
Groceries of failure, I don’t cook or bake
Because in this race; grace got my back.