ASABA

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Her entire short life is dirge like,
In her daily rounds so silly alike.
Abnormally brained, genes had made;
A persistent dirty joke, harmlessly made.

Asaba is the neighbourhood’s fool,
Nurturing our moods into a little fool.
The gloom that is her poor mind
Caresses our passions, so we mind.

In a puddle she plays herself by.
Scaring kids as she staggers by.
Gracious mums use this apt fear.
Life cannot be all good and fair.

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Collection of over 250 poems
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THE SLEEPER

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Why’ll this air carry a plane
And not carry me alone too,
Or indeed a speech in its vein
Across nothing instantly true.

Why will a big city of a ship
Sail oceans leagues in depth
And I sink in a pool as I sleep,
Like many tiny pebbles too wept.

I see no answer in practice
Or reason in their pattern.
Where a dream does surface,
There my sleep shows concern.

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RACES

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They get set, ready and go.
To where? God only will know.
Revolting round earthly tracks
Which knows not their tasks.

Their quests are not visible
Or even humanly sensible.
Competing with complexions,
Hairs, noses and eyes in nations.

What wins these long races
That recognizes their faces,
Will not justify the future;
For races aren’t their nature.

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DAMNING

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When the heard child laughs
Because he or she is yet to learn
That the human’s hate bathes
Itself with a very muddy hand.

When the grown up man
Looks another in the face
With the sympathy he can,
Yet his steps he retrace.

When the means so abound
And situations led are bred,
So that no bread is found
Or all the many needy fed.

When the minds of people
Work in a pattern so futile
To their every tiny single
Breath and existing smile.

When the scale is tilt
In favour of the weight
Of the gold and its guilt
Not honour at its height.

When the support falters,
For man chooses to urinate
In his salads and waters
On the earth he can’t imitate.

When all that exists
Speaks for the destination,
Then man opens all the exits
And runs out in damnation.

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MOUNTAIN

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My mood goes up and down a mountain,
Too inspired by the challenge to refrain.
Wary of the danger that’s being embraced,
So cautious of the consequence, if disgraced.

Confused at the reason why anyone must,
Scared of the height beckoning my lust.
Struggling up the first ledge as I edge up,
Proud to have made it up my own little top.

Further up more battles, the way is yet more.
Betrayed by falling rocks I yearn for before;
Holding on to dear life, yet another average.
Dejected by unfriendly weather and also age.

Angry to slip off the steep, rubbed in bruises.
Disappointed to lose the gained just pushes;
Gasping up yet another route should matter,
In time it comes to never prove any better.

Surprised by the like company all about,
Reason enough for such to pine on without
The appreciation my efforts and gains deserve.
Tired yet gladden by that view, a pleasure.

Knowing I cannot stay forever there on top.
When and not if I return grounded from up;
Normal should I be again, only different
With experience and lessons time can’t dent.

If I return pushed from its highest cliff’s edge
Or in honour received at finished time’s verge,
I’ll wrestle my older age’s embers of last mood;
Helplessly watch it win all my trophies and food.

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MUSICAL NATURE

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The beats of sounds speaks out
To be heard outside thought.
Taught mind holds out its arms
Which melodies caress and disarms.

Balance placed all around is
Fondly rolled out like this.
With august carpets welcomed
To change moods succumbed.

Beauty revealed in rhythm
That alone fills the chasm,
Teach that nature is a song
Sang in the world it belong.

Listening to living all about,
Natural in whisper or shout.
Speaking like a language
For all alive, of every age.

This one common dialect
That nature would select,
To talk to all its wards
Over whom it does lords.

Into the rhymes of beats
Even the soul also eats.
For the monastery of man
Isn’t too lonely to jam.

Drummed beats within ribs
Carry breath beyond its cribs.
Heard inside ears’ own confine
Till sound buries its own coffin.

This atmospheric gaol of man
He has only, all he does plan.
In its whirl spin of mystery,
It entertains man’s misery.

Trunk sounds nosy trumpets
Like fluty birds in high nests.
Peckers tap wooden gongs
As leggy harps chirp songs.

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The hiss lull of breezy air
And crescendo a storm blare;
Conducts brown, green and blue
Into a harmony hardly new.

As sound speaks and entertain,
Nature so musically maintain
The oneness of all it breeds;
Sanely soothing all it feeds.

The metaphor portrays the act
That cannot dispute the fact;
That the fruit of this only life
Metamorphose with all alive.

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MATE (Kishiya)

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So she said to I,
“To all women as I,
My mate is better than I,
What did she do to him and I?
Or had I failed him as I,
To make him withdraw from I?
How else do you interpret to I,
It’s envy or it’s all male to I?”

Haka ta che,
“Wa ni da duk mache,
Kishiya ta ta fi ni.
Ko ya ta yi da shi, da ni?
Ko de na kasa,
Har ya sa ya fasa?
Ko ya zaka fasara,
Kishi ne, ko duniya na maza?”

DOWNLOAD THIS POEM FROM
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AA- THE POET IN THE POEM (Cover)
Collection of over 250 poems
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451309