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Charles Bassey
Soul Street
Something strange and wordless to speech
Slipped up my mind, the sleeve of my soul;
Out of my drowse, I heeded for the street
Christened “soul” for mates’ own sake.
Which lane led I knew not
Since sight be not the chosen conveyance
But the trappings of fleeting emotions.
The lanes, worn out, wore broken patches of
hearts.
Dancing beneath my lightness
My drudging feeling floundered
Upon the lure of an endless search
To end this requiem before vespers.
Protesting, I must please at least hear
If not the rattling tease of her love
Then the resonant voice of my desire
Whispering a tincture or consolation.
Did I find her? Maybe I did.
How can I ever tell for the throng.
Caught amidst a love stack, you can only hope
She pops up for a find when the heap is down.
Shoreline
Crumbs of footprints
Trail the sandy shoreline;
Seaward they flow
With the vaulted vessel
As taints of fantasy
Painted upon a mosaic
Of humourless profiles
Are swept by cold
Footprints are mummified
That leave crafted smiles
On the dark shoreline
Of deprivation
And fantasies are humified
Into fertile realities
Of famished frames as riches
Play foolery with rags.
Spoken Silence
Even when silence settles strongly,
Your presence speaks solemn thoughts
To my heart and soul;
In the silence of our being
We speak thoughts profound:
Of love’s true spectacle.
In your company I hear
Words that speak themselves
Only in the healing silence.
In such speech-filled silence
The resonance of beauty
Wells up its presence in us
And we listen; and we hear
The rhythm of love;
And its spoken wonders.
I just wonder, what power,
What marvel love works
In the silent rhythm of coupled souls.
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| Charles
Bassey works with Central Bank, Abuja.
He is also a member of ALS. |
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