When I Die

Eventually I will die, count on it, cease my blemished existence
Never more to sully this good green earth
but leave with all my cares and have-nots intact,
hoping that providence would grant but this last boon
that the fanfare of my departure is overtaken by whispered silence
To fit within an eye blink the totality of my mourning
Such tribute would give good account the import of mine deposit
But for this place, this now, departure can come not too quickly
For the lives all the more ill-fated having chanced upon my course
howl fitfully for reprieve, some ellipsis of fairness, foundations firm shaken
While I traipse the ever winding ways of this good green earth
I present a perversion of their ill-gotten wounds, and justified cries
for my stillness, my never to be again, calls for my purging
I am sick within to give account of my perditions
Hades’ fiery bosom would provide sweet sleep, sweet forgetfulness
and stop my fitful meditations that accuse as surely as innocence
stop good victims, ponder not my just damnation
when your thoughts of retribution can hardly best my feelings of self
Eventually I will die, and hope to depart with all my cares intact
Leaving no remembrance of my sojourn through this place

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Mortal Thoughts

Mortal thoughts are like cloudy days
And the sun will never shine through
Cloudy days are the beginnings of hopelessness
And the path of our lives never seem true
Let go our thoughts therefore on a careless gondola
And banish all fret in deep and murky waters
For as our souls relate our tales upon this plane
Then it ill begets the mind to worry our spirits so

Mortal thoughts herald the coming of grief
That bends our minds to the imminence of sorrow
Of timeless requiem and forgotten dirges
Hollow tribute and death’s eye service
But while we wander non- promised paths
Awaiting our turn with the Nazarene
But if fate never moved by sorrow’s plea
Then what we seek must be all we seek

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I Was Born

I was born inside the never-never
Child of mists contained in shadows
Doubtless, none believed I’d live
So all looked sad with pity-heavy eyes
Charge me then, by this resolve
To hold on close to life’s true breath
Make liars all of premature mourners
Who slither near for misery’s acclaim

Though I came blind to meet this place
That silent fanfare crowned my wake
But could speak no ill of fate’s pursuit
Yet standing still to meet its rush
what paupered kings have oft lament
must brook few gains for new borne babes
with deaf and dumb and sightless pleas
death’s cold heart can ne’er be shifted

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Poems (c) Sean Adetula