THE HARMATTAN
The rains are long gone;
Leaves like raindrops.
Dry winds crawling,
Squeaking the roof tops.
Mist in the mornings,
A shroud of cold air.
The hands of harmattan
Roaming everywhere.
The world has taken
A deadish hue.
The colour of brown
Covered in dew.
The sun has risen
To its peak,
To scorch any lip
That dares to speak.
Dryness has swallowed
Earthly sheen;
Harvested it has
All that’s green.
No life in the
Wilted petal.
Eerie landscape
Dull as metal.
Brown hazy smoke,
A blanket above.
The rain is gone;
And so’s your love.
———————
ISAMUNI I (The climb)
We braced ourselves
Looking up the humongous
Monument Eledumare dropped
On Ayete, town of ancient Oyo.
Dwarfed by its dimensions,
Soar did our spirits still, as we set forth
On our arduous task to reach its peak.
Legs aching, thighs burning
As we edged on.
Adventure soothed our thirst;
Adrenaline, salved aching muscles.
We ran, we walked, we crawled.
And when we thought
we could go no further,
Isamuni surrendered.
———————
ISAMUNI II (On this hill)
On this hill, I stand.
Towards the vastness
Of earth beneath me I gaze.
The wind soothing my breast;
Rivulets of sweat adorn
The massive igneous ball of earth
On which I stand.
And down on Ayete I look.
I see the rust-brown roofs
That paint the landscape;
The green sponge of trees
Clothing the nakedness
Of yonder mountains.
And I stand, arms apart
And bask in the
Rhapsodic moment that is
Isamuni!
———————
THE MOON SONNET
The sky does not wear
The moon well tonight;
For it looks strangely, an ear
Of frail waning light.
The moon has not its charm
Tonight; for its silvery light
Paints not the shadowy farm
Where squirrels meet to quibble and fight.
The moon does not tell
Tonight, of lovers’ beach hikes
Nor of the sea tides that swell
And fall on damp-coloured rocks and dykes.
The moon weeps for the loss of love
And of the stars leaving the sky above.
———————
© Emuobome Jemikalajah
Image: Pixabay.com