I still can’t decipher why papa asked me
To define “moribund” with my maladroit brain,
And state the ways it journeys through my spine whenever i hear it from his trembling mouth.

I’ve visited social media to ask fàrohúmí;
A wicked herbalist who dines and wines with írúmóle.

And my dictionary’s page
Where “mo” begins,
Has ripped into a shredded blouse,
Worn by a madman in ìsàlè eko.

Since morning doesn’t smile forever,
And night doesn’t appear with brightness,
How do I now cut a thousand of hairs without soaking my ágbádá in ocean of perspiration?

Since my shadow has become
A medical doctor in Papa’s dying bed,
How do i now abandon home to visit soyinka;
A marquee noble laureate in my country
To elucidate to me, “moribund”
In his own vocabulary textbook?

I know tongue is never a friend to bitterness,
Same way our eyes are antagonists to darkness.

How does his boat now travel on empty stomach
Without sinking in the middle of river?

I’ll make my eyes visible to this hour,
So, father can journey along with the sun,
And beckon him a goodbye of elegy.

Lover’s Tunes

Like a dream she appeared in me.
With a vase she brought the myrrh.
There is love in my hand which I hold.
I will paint your love and get it mold.

Like the camel in desert she rested on my soul,
And i learnt the lesson of how to rule.
Make the way and send the tune,
Do not let it the game of my love ruin.

Calm the winds as angels sing,
Lover’s tunes and flowers bring.
Little buds caressed my dew,
Send the zephyr of love in a few.

She has her own special way,
Of turning around my terrible way.
She makes all the bad things go away,
The second that she says hey!

Love me like the flowers love the rose,
Like the rabbits escape before they cover their holes.
Love me like nature loves the world,
And I shall serve you beyond my word!

Nature Also Cries

(for a dear brother who has answered Heaven’s call)

I begin this poem with a boiling tear
Bathing on this uncluttered paper with gloominess.

Remembering your existence hits
Like an arrow piercing through the hearts of legion,
But doesn’t injure.
It haunts my brain with mournful reminiscences.

Your shadow splashes in my face
Like dust bathing in my stepmother’s floor,
Because, this heart is filled with dust of reclusion.

I am guilty this is all I’ve got for you,
And this grave is too slender for us
So i could be your acolyte,
And save my elegy for grievers to chant.

I espy a boy standing beside a river;
Rendering some water from his eyes to the river goddess,
And i see your shadow in my slumber
Beckoning a farewell of pains into my heart.

Now i understand, plants do cry when they lose their buds,
Heaven cries with heavy teardrop falling on our village roofs,
And trees also cry when their leaves fall without their clues.

So, I’ll invite your shadow with booming drums,
And pretend like I’m seeing you again.