Inspired by Romeo Oriogun.
One day we’ll sit in a lightless bar
and look into each other.
Revolution is a song hungry folks
don’t sing. We’ll chant fire and cry ice.
Maybe you feel happy
that a legion of pigeons are flying off
towards a greener land that breeds peppers.
Our souls are fires that have forgotten
how to burn, and everywhere my heart enters,
my head runs out, screaming logic.
I can’t wait to tell our sons that life is a beautiful agony, and they are
not allowed to cry
when the moon turns grey,
because the woman pounding yam inside of it has a weary waist.
One day, I’ll tell my daughter that love is a clove of onions that
but could make her trip over tears.
Broken emblems mix with the
air, stuff my nose. Torn flags,
bombs, swirling in my mind.
Secretly I know, that nobody cares.
The whiskey is good. The weather is cold.
We should have sex. Perhaps I’ll learn the patterns
your body has broken into.
Perhaps I’ll set fuel on myself and find you.
Perhaps I’ll help you find a home within.
About the Author:
Emmanuel Esomnofu. Facebook bio reads: Anti.
COMMENTS ( 4 ) -
The Primitive Man Makes His Escape by Emmanuel Esomnofu January 08, 2020 15:22
[…] – From my poem, ‘Chanting Fire’, published in Brittle Paper […]
Simeon Mpamugoh October 16, 2017 13:05
it is gripping, the cadences are unimaginable. Ride on guy,
RICHARD INYA October 04, 2017 08:02
Vusumuzi D.S Makhuno October 02, 2017 03:22
Flows ....it sparks up my imagination!... There is rhythm and every line is like punchline to me. Keep up the good work.