Four Poems by Thompson Emate

 

Echoes of the Dark

 

Beneath the beauty lies the encroaching night, 

Beneath the blossoms are the tendrils of darkness. 

The surface is a lush meadow, 

While beneath, shadows assault. 

 

There is a striving for light even among the various hands of night; 

A journey toward redemption amidst the resounding echoes of darkness. 

What is veiled is unveiled in daylight, 

As the silent emerge at twilight. 

 

Daylight illuminates the path beyond the door opened at dawn; 

It does not script or sculpt. 

Instead, there is a gathering in the tranquil night, 

Where daylight reveals the diligent and assiduous elements. 

 

Silence is a room filled with exotic fragrances; 

It speaks volumes beyond the sacred texts. 

Silence is the guide that shows the way to Zion’s gate, 

Drowning out the echoes of the dark.

Colours and Paintings

 

Understand the colours, 

Listen to the whispers, 

Push beyond the contours, 

Find tranquillity in the hues. 

 

Colours reach out to us; 

They encourage us to embark on a journey, 

Exploring the depths of existence, 

Discovering the mysteries of imagination. 

 

Trapped within the painting are the perplexities and complexities of the mind. 

Hidden in the artwork is the silent cry of the troubled. 

Something in the painting beckons us to pause and reflect; 

This leads us through a door into the universe of mysteries. 

 

Colours are the beauty of the day in the summer glow; 

They aid imaginations to blossom and grow. 

Sometimes, paintings reflect what dwells within us. 

Colours and paintings are the inseparable ink of creativity.

Gifts

 

They come from the ones that make your face glow,

They come from the ones not in your mind’s view,

They arrive from far and near,

At dawn, in between or at twilight,

They are unwrapped in solitude,

Or in the company of anxious eyes,

We smile with a glad heart and grateful sigh,

Gifts are the ornaments of yuletide,

Enchanting a dreary ambience.

The Man and the Calabash

 

Out of my body, 

Out of the enclave of the night, 

I walk along a path, 

A path where mysteries are unravelled, 

A path where light is internal and perpetual, 

A path that leads to redemption. 

 

I see a man holding a calabash; 

He beckons to me. 

I draw closer, 

And he smiles with teary eyes. 

I smile too, 

Amazed and bewildered. 

He nods and I look into the calabash. 

 

There’s an evocation from the red oil; 

I’m stripped of every darkness, 

Unchained from the night, 

No longer trailed by its tendrils.

Thompson Emate spends his leisure time on creative writing, particularly poetry and prose. He has a deep love for nature and the arts. His writings centres on the inner struggles and the search for redemption. His work can be seen in Poetry Potion, Poetry Soup, Visual Verse, Written Tales magazine, Writers Space African magazine, Borderless Journal, Spillwords and elsewhere. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria.