IT’S MONDAY NOON…

And the poet wanders
In the world of thoughts

Piercing
Like the spears
Of a juicy song

Dazzling
Like the stars
When the night is set

Enchanting
Like the rose
Sparkling in your eyes

Revealing
Like the sun
About to set at dusk

But blind, yes blind
Like me, lost in you

…our love swaggers
In the ring of words

—–

I COULD NOT GIVE YOU A LOVELY KISS

(For Ismail B. Garba’s ‘FOUR POEMS FOR CHARLES SIMIC’)

As you
Twist
Turn
Twirl
Wiggle
Wriggle
Waggle

And moan lyrically

In response
To the softness of my caress

I see that:

Your rhymes
Are static

Your rhythm;
Loosed

Your cadence;
Broken

And

You have no title and such
I could not give you a lovely kiss

—–

POETRY OF THE BEGINNING AND END

As singing sounds
Race through the future
In a blaze of light
With the Piercing rhythm
Of a perfected past

And

Flying stands of words
Quiver into the web
Without the gems of the living plasm
And without the perfect rose

I wonder and ponder why

The poet seeks the muse
And the muse seeks the poet

In the poetry of the beginning

—–

SILENCE

Silence

Silence

Followed by:
A long heightened hollowed horror full protracted period of wait

Silence

Again silence
Then: A RANCOROUS THUNDER!!!

As renditions exploded
In  the  Goitre of the  Griot

—–

SORCERY

When the smoke of a greater darkness
Surges to engulf your mystic chains
And you invoke the oracle for a cure
It will chant a verse or two for you
From the poem of the shrine

…at the end of every poem
there is a horn and a star
but the end of this poem
will mark the
beginning to the end of poems
with stars and horns at their  beginning and end
thus, an end to the beginning of unusual poems
with neither end nor beginning
to stars and horns at their beginning or end…

And when you reach here
Grow pebbles on your face
For that is the beginning of a spell
Cast on you at the end

—–

SONG OF THE SPHERES

(for Christopher Okigbo)

Ecstatic cries echo
In The tube of the ears of the earth
And awoke this naked madness in me
Whispers of the winds and waves

And sent me swimming
In the silence of the songs of the spheres
When you led me to the spring
Believing me a bard
Prince of the words of the world

And fed me sounds
In saucer strings
Spears of the light of the skies

You took me to the spring
Believing me a bard
Pierceness of the poetry of the beginning

The maddened sounds thunder
As they strike me
Pulsates of the poetry of the end

—–

I ‘LL BE YOUR MOON

At morning I’ll be your dawn
At forenoon I’ll be your sun
Your chirping birds and swaying trees at evening

And

When the sun falls into the depth of dusk
And wingless steam of heat drizzles

When chirping birds retire to their resting nests
And swaying trees freeze

When staggering stars swim in slumbering circles
And a blinding darkness covers the earth

I’ll be your moon,
Yes, I’ll be your moon

—–

Poems (c) Umar Abubakar Sidi