OBLIVION
Tonight shall bear the bruises of yesterday
We shall walk these streets of illusions
Searching for the secrets of fathers kept in the palms of time
So when the moon creeps into our dreams,
—we will wake from slumber
Tonight, we have the name of forebears
They were words that lived on our tongues
So we will hold touches searching for the bones
Of cadavers that have no face—
Who remembers the name of the man who mounted the sun?
That’s the man we are looking for, tonight…
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WAITING FOR DADDY
the clouds formed an army of darkness
they rushed into the hands of wind
they entombed the eyes of moon; the colour of darkness is fear—
fear is the sex that happens in the mind, so I tremble
it’s about to rain and
daddy is not home
home should be the resting place
not a journey into endless pines
where breathe clenches itself in trusted numbness
i find myself in a state of desire
where I yearn to close the open sentences of these clouds
clouds are prophets, the rain is the sign
so if it rains again, my hopes might drop
like the fate of a flower vase— shattered
the clouds open their lap
and I saw the eyes of moon at the lips of their virginals.
looking through the window is like reading a novel of suspense
what happens next is a call
mommy runs into the kitchen where she charges her phone
and an unknown voice tells us
that daddy has gone home—
home should be the resting place
not a journey into endless pines
where breathe clenches itself in trusted numbness
so I will wait till I go home too
to find out why he loves solitude.
——————————
DECEPTION
i bear fractions
of your self;
there are ripples on my face
and butterflies flap through my palms;
you are a window in my heart
i open you and I find joy…
there are joys that last
and there are some that die like candles
in the wind—the ones that run from my throat;
so I find a joy that breaks me into a punctured half,
the joy that writes scars like tattoos on my cheek,
you are a joy that tears me into fragments of a broken night,
the moon watches me dance in annulled pleasure
the night watched me die
and you were here to bury my carcass
you built me a casket of retorted dreams
with woods that reek of lice that burn my head—
you were here, like that friend you were, you stood till the end
i dug my grave
and found your bones;
this life is a cloud of deception
a shower of lies that bind us into the people we are
——————————
Poems © Adedayo Agarau
Image: Pixabay.com (modified)
I like those poems above by Adedayo Agarau. He sounds so natural in some of his works that sometimes one wonders where he digs out the words he uses in writing his poems. Adedayo is among those that ripe off my veil when I read them. No doubt about it, he is good and great in carving and joining words together. More strength to your pen Agarau.
John Chizoba vincent
Exactly. Look at him now!
fine poems. fine words, well knitted.
” home should be the resting place
not a journey into endless pines
where breathe clenches itself in trusted numbness”