My Darling
i woke up this
forenoon
as every thought
of you walls around me
i turn to the side
of the bed in search
the sweet wet
bouquet of your essence
to me, you are
that first lotus flower
the first that the
creator beheld and
echoed; it is
beautiful, the creation
you saw that first
sunrise of the earth
the first night of
creation you experienced
and the colourless
universe had seen it
even in the
silence of the heart you existed
my darling
i woke up this
forenoon
the thought of you
has transcended the rooms
the bedroom is
echoing loneliness
as i had hoped to
be with you sooner
you who has become
like lettuce to me
let these moments
be memorable
as i dance on this
floor of echoing loneliness.
When He Walked Back home With A Broken Face As The Reflections Of His Heart.
Of the highways
that we walked home
Of the distance between
us that we - stared at
Of the courage with
which we summoned up - to live
Of the wishes that never came true
- but had turned to wing birds
Of the dreams dressed in distress as a garb
Of the many faces that had disappeared
- in their blooms
Of the times we had wanted there - here
Of the happiness that alludes us in the
-morning bringing dirge in the night
Of the pains that awakened us to life
- for we embrace it as part of life
Of the day stepped out to play our
- hearts out in the gathering of men
Of the day our muse left too quick
- that we quivered
Of the crowd that gathered to eat our words
Of our muse that echoes eternal lines
Of our cultures and what is therein
- in-between
Of the yesterday that we were snatched
- of the time
Of the reckoning, that - the heart of man is
insatiable.
Time.
With every smile
that
beams on this
- face.
I have learned -
to put
my howls
in a
muffled sob.
For a time, they said;
it is
a healer of
- all men, for boys don't cry.
Past, present and future
- time heals.
Thousands - of times
I have
been at the
- threshold of times
Of howls sniffing
for I
have made my
- bed with perfect timing
To heal the cracks on the
nectar
of a rose.
Under The Beautiful Moon.
Under this beautiful Moon in a dark pane I undressed
my heart;
As last night I became one with the stars,
Trying to give my light to wandering souls;
those who died in the streets of life,
Never knowing what life was like on earth;
They became wandering souls cut off from this world.
I was in the constellation of the heavens,
Shining my light from the heaven panes
As they explore the lanes in hopes;
"If lands of our wandering are not fairer",
We shall become the echoes of many waters;
As we had once thought: “life is worth it”.
When we have burdened our transient existence with
grief,
And made our bed with a thousand memories;
each day and night hunting for our peace,
Fears to live without a name muffled us into pains;
Although names of wandering souls are seldom
mentioned,
Each one of them is clothed with colours of dirge.
John Chinaka Onyeche "Rememberajc" (he/his) is the author of; (Echoes Across The Atlantic), a husband, father and poet from Nigeria. He writes from the city of Port Harcourt Rivers State, Nigeria. He is currently a student of History and Diplomatic Studies at Ignatius Ajuru University Of Education Port Harcourt Rivers State.
John
Chinaka can be reached through the following means:
Facebook.com/jehovahisgood
Twitter.com/apostlejohnchin
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