I EMBRACE MY INSANITY

I embrace my insanity
it shackles me to no more
than a fleeting glimpse of myself,
a thought, a speckle of reason
a constant reminder of why I’m here,
mortally bound to a mind that seeks to be free of the self
asking answers of questions not yet born.

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UNTITLED

Should this prologue have been an epilogue to a story never told? Should the paparazzi have gone home long before the ink that was never used had dried? Or should they continue to camp at my place or yours in the event there is some break in the story…a sudden inspiration that jerks the nerves at the very root of medusa’s hair. Or maybe I should file this away now quietly among those forgotten memoirs of unknowns who yearned to write their own stories of love… True, yet unbelievable saga of mere mortals who walk among us. Should I burn it?, save the ashes in an urn in my creative sanctuary that I may turn to in my moments. Find poetry in an untold love story. No, an unfinished one. Or more appropriately, an indefinable one: It just morphs along uncertain terrain. Maybe this is the road of love less traveled. Maybe it has some edifying gems along the way, or pearls of wisdom to offer. Does the non story just end here or is there an alternate ending?

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MOON-CHASER

I recognize you, I know where your eyes have been
and your footsteps trailed.

You are the moon-chaser
who followed your dreams and the trail of the sun till dusk
bleeding your heart of love
unbending your knees in prayer
for the beauty buried in your soul…

You are the moon-chaser
whose piety became her solitude
diminished radiance,
whose dance steps found their shadows

I recognize you…

You came to me in your dream
smiling seductively through your tears
begging for dawn to wait
until your heart returns to a place of recognition

You embraced joy in welcome
only to turn around and flee
You are the moon-chaser
aren’t you?
I recognize you…
I see you in the mirror before me.

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THE ARTIST’S WAY

I was prayed into being.
The Almighty was at my conception
His mark, on my entity
before I was yolk-ed

“Ona” sent me here with a burden to bear
not a curse, but a sword that spits the fire of knowing
seeing things unmet with mortal eyes
becoming one with the elements that transform thoughts into the sublime

I, an instrument in the hands of “Olodumare”
breaking mind barriers into creative energy.

“Ona” has sent me here,
I submit to his whims in gratitude for the burden I bear

tasting the ashes of my primordial soul
because I can’t help myself.

(“Ona” – The muse in Yoruba language.
“Olodumare” – The Almighty)

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AFRICAN WOMAN

YOU are the Poet’s song
The Sages’ words…
O perfect beauty, ebony soul
Purity in a world where paupers are kings,
and royalty are born to serve

Lost in my own wonder of your ethereal beauty,
I come searching for you
To suckle on your eternal wisdom
Kindled in the grace you bear…

O African Woman of Sheba’s race

You are Loved!
YOU are loved!

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OASIS

my soul was a barren desert filled with mirages of love
never reaching, always searching…unfulfilled promises…
till you came, spreading like dew laden foliage
quenching an age old thirst…
…becoming my oasis.

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All Poems (c) Folasayo Dele-Ogunrinde