Sounds of the Heart
For the afraid, the lonely,
the scared, the fearful,
for those who place value on life,
as though it’s not speeding away,
and every breath a knife twists;
for them, I say with laughter,
a bathtub is a river.
For the brave, the fearless,
the stubborn and the eloquent,
for those who have no value for a thing,
as though everything is past,
and the present is an illusion;
for them, I shake my head with a smile,
the ocean is another bathtub.
Choose today, my friend,
whom you will serve, your mentor,
either the brave or the fearful,
the stubborn or the scared,
those who hold tight or let go,
the anxious, the carefree,
choose your destiny, your life.
Somewhere
Somewhere in the distant places
there must be a dream for me;
hidden in the lands of forgotten spaces
safe from some prying feet and keys
Somewhere in the Arabian fields
a dream lurks in wait for me
when I shall take my body there
or just a part of my hungry spirit;
I shall see the clouds disappear
and wander off to far places
where no dream will stare at them
to kill or to destroy.
And if I can’t make them disappear
or at least stop their wandering form
I shall plead and make it clear
my dreams are not for the killing.
Ghost Nation
The city of the Macabre, a guild of the Oak,
the fraternity of the blind; jilted lovers;
your garden of blood grows pines of pain,
where mothers howl and fathers gnash
for love, cut down before it blooms.
You build high windows and iron doors,
yet death borrows a ladder and jumps in;
in every room, in every row of beds,
the flickering lights stuck under their bushels
where the mind plays against time.
Your men sip disaster in a glass of memory
and declare war against the memory of love,
haunted by the ghost of former things,
they watch glory gnash its way to ashes,
as mothers’ songs rush to save the innocent.
My door opens to the shores of the Thames
from where I see no ladder to the sky;
the Thames mourns, stars depart,
the strewn daisies though describe a lie
that our souls will not rise again.
Photo by Cloris Ying on Unsplash
Photo by Sergey Pesterev on Unsplash
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
TOKURA DOVAL February 23, 2024 10:44
Paul C. Emenike's "Road to Bauchi" paints a realistic picture of what one sees at motor parks and fuel stations in the northern part of Nigeria. It's a commentary, albeit a sad one, on the pauperized life of innocent young children brought to the world but left to fend for themselves at such a tender age. A shame! Emenike's diction reflects his calling as a creative artist on the canvas and on the podium of Brittle Paper. Good read.