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Julius Bokoru
Lover!
Hand me
a sonnet, lover
Of what
love should be
In times
of castles and clowns
Of
peasant farmer-boy
Stealing
the prince’s bride
Hand me
a rhyme, lover
Of
introvert lovers hiding in the woods
Locked
in a world of natures greenness
Scenting
flavored sun-hued orchards
Enjoying
tunes of happy birds
Give me
a verse, lover
Of
mighty troy tumbling for Helens charm
Of
lances wading through a beating heart
About
St. Valentines martyrdom
Hand me
a poem, lover
Of love
cherished and lost
In
towers, dungeons and plains
By
kings, wizards and soldiers
So we
could salvaged that ancient un-withered love.
Angels
The past
is a quiet
And
befitting place
As time
preys on
Our
humanitarian art
No king
here to adore each verse
Nor
troubled lover
To be
consoled
Or a
moody queen to mend
With me
here no patron
No
broken soul to stitch
Just the
signs of an ending
Of
earth’s great poetry age.
The
Death Within Me
Blaring
with the muteness inside
The most
silent whisper of ageless fate
Accelerating a schedule of imminent doom
Gently,
calling away a marked soul
Closer,
the stinging aura becomes
Growing
healthier by the day
Waiting
to link up with that destined date
Scheduled to arrive promptly, inevitably
Without
wishing wasteful years
Years
that will outlive my all but peculiar purpose
Portioned out to me
By the
all knowing cosmic
I give
espouse to the dictator
Of my
transition
And
praise for His muted signals
That
employed haste in my mission
Then, on
that fateful rainy night
Somewhere in between
A
brutality and a desolate tranquility
The
earth would quench upon me.
Night
The
night had worn
Gloom
intensified
Moon
slinking into the ash clouds
Only
nocturnals could pierce this darkness
Suddenly, from my windows opening
Comes
this horror wail
Sounding like cries of ghost children
Freshly
demised urchins I suppose
For the
neighborhood was poor
I,
laying lone that night, tensed
Slowly
drew apart the blinds
Shot my
touch through the dimness
The
light unveiled four green eyes
Jade
dots on the gloom
Two
cats standing together
Crying
like human babies
My
heartbeat accelerated
Head
became cold and inflamed
The
touch crashed down to the floor
With a
demonic clatter
I,
nearly strangulated by fear
Screamed the ‘‘blood of Jesus’’
And the
cracked voice of the old man next door
Said
‘’Relax, they just want to mate.”
The Mad Woman of
Swali Market
Again
and again
All
around the clock
I saw
her dancing through the streets
Clanging franticly against metal bins
Swimming
through the burning golden sun
Flapping
broken bare breasts
Against
the innocent sky
Again
and again
She
glided through the ever busy swali market
Passerby’s instinctively stepped aside
She
delved her charcoal hands
Into
basins of tomatoes, okra, garri
Smoked
fish, egusi and green vegetables
The
market staffs only shooed and smiled
More and
more
I saw
her brightened with joy
As daily
plights were attained
She
swaggered through conquered grounds
Her fans
multiplied
By her
increasing publicity
She was
a constant concert
We, the
city-audience might have wrongly judged
But she
thought herself a beauty queen
Her
endless joy was even envied by first ladies!
She was
a gift to swali
Her
shows were bliss to broken heart
Never
before had insanity seemed so prestigious
She was
a celebrity, and a goddess!
Letter to the New
World
We were
working in the cassava farm
Before I
lost you
To the
belly of a great beast
Gliding
through the crystal Atlantic
Parading
your black, god-like body
In high
profile markets
A
pale-skinned white-livered customer came
choosing
On you,
there was even a prize tag!
An
unhealed tattoo
Saying
“this is massa Moore’s nigga”
A sign
which was inhumanly wiped off
Before
you toiled the plantations of your new master
Zuga was
deleted and Charles installed
We over
here
Also sat
around blazing woods
Chanting
“God bless Lincoln.”
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