Seven Poems by Thompson Emate

 

Sad Flute

 

Tunes of despondent melodies,

Torture of a deprived soul,

I journey through a dark meadow,

I carry an undue weight,

I am hollowed by yesterday,

An elegy to twilight.

The Wind Whispers

 

Feeble boughs sway in the twilight,

The wind sighs and sings,

The rhythm of another era,

Whispers of the impermanence of life,

A door into its mysteries,

I remember my mother’s tales,

About an emergence in the stillness,

When deadness plucks nature’s strings,

Somehow this view left me,

The memories awakened in me.

Shroud of Dusk

 

Emergence of the unseen,

The mystery of ages,

The emptiness of something,

That which echoes in silence,

Heard by the seekers of truth,

Unveiled in deep solitude,

The mind calmed from its tempest.

Bracelet of Stars

 

A gathering in the stillness of night,

A fulfilment of what the sage foretold,

Emergence of the unspoken and the unwritten,

The arrival of a different spiritual order,

A bracelet of stars is the sign,

A revelation of only one true sovereignty.

The Coming Tomorrow

 

Holding onto tomorrow,  

Looking beyond today,  

Pushing aside my troubles,  

Reaching for tomorrow’s light.  

Hoping for a blossoming day,  

Walking out of today’s complexities,  

I journey into the unseen,  

That which my mind envisions.  

Anticipating tomorrow’s bloom,  

Fighting against the tendrils of night,  

Awakening a feeble hope,  

Finding the path to redemption.  

Remembering the words of the sage,  

Dwelling on the promises from sacred texts,  

I look beyond today’s shadows,  

Opening the door to a radiant tomorrow. 

Look

 

Look at these lovely thoughts; 

They have journeyed with me from the altar of consecration, 

Accompanying me from my communion with the Father of Lights. 

 

Look at these pure thoughts, 

The garden in my heart, 

Shrivelled on the muddy, pebbled path that leads to my shelter, 

Trampled by the chaos of impatience and inconsideration. 

 

Look at these blotched thoughts; 

They accompany me to my shelter, 

They follow me through the door 

That opens to an unlit room and a cold welcome. 

 

Look at these shattered thoughts, 

Look at these dark thoughts, 

Flying from my chamber, 

Feathered by the hidden falsehood of friendship, 

Winged by the darkness of the church at the first light.

Echo Chamber

 

Troubled by my journey into the day, 

Disturbed by the need to engage with its affairs, 

Worried by the voices that gnaw at my mind, 

I withdraw into my echo chamber, 

Finding comfort in its familiar space. 

 

I’m pleased to be in my little echo chamber, 

Thrilled to swim in the sea of my thoughts and reflections. 

Nothing feels amiss, 

Nothing intrudes. 

 

Yet, the garden in my heart begins to wilt; 

I start to feel plain, 

My imaginative lens begins to blur, 

And my understanding of the night becomes shadowy. 

 

When I finally step out of my echo chamber, 

My slumber is interrupted. 

I am flooded by the mysteries of the night, 

And I start to feel other worlds. 

My mind wanders through the sky, 

Becoming a turbulent sea in search of redemption.

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