Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju Debuts

Dreamy Dance

 

Beneath strings of rhythms

And the harmony of the bass drum

 

My dreams dance core and raw

In a gowned grace and pure awe

 

Captured by a soulful welcome

I mount a ride on hymns.

 

tell the tree

i

please help tell the tree

whose greed noses the sky for touch

her tale of tallness is a root beneath

and some desires tear and tatter the clothes?

 

a tree that uproots her root for greed

is long dead!

 

should she  not remember

the sky is a friend of wings not heights?

 

a tree is not a bird…

and a bird is not of root.

ii

please help tell the tree

who sways his branches of envy

and murders the young birds for wings…

 

the one that gives a home

is the lord!

 

the wings of many colours

may fly far and ace abroad

the tree is her nest and home…

 

how could the tree forget so soon

and has become evil and evil?

iii

please help tell the tree

that cries of fluffy clothes of the clouds

to hold water…

 

that alade marries salewa

by the holds of her bounty fruits…

 

the greatness of her rooty trunk

holds shades of passion for lovers

 

her barks and leaves provide therapy

 

it has healed kumolu

and now she plays around…

iv

please tell the tree

who swallows sadness of deprived attention

 

that the sky sends her gratefulness

for it would have been miserable

 

if it were to be no branches

that shoulder her weeps

that the land sends her tributes

for his pleasurable copulation of roots

and the grasses that sprout for her hairs…

please tell the tree that grandma says it is a gem!

 

night

i

throbbing thoughts weigh me

and i break on the spring of balance…

 

pressured pulses poke-pinch

the tranquility of my veins

and a giant pain pestles

my broken bones in the mortal of maladies

 

i play a puzzle with life…

the game of bereaved brains in nooses

 

it is my costly jest with death

and death has no clowned clothing…

ii

something falls on my face

a spate of sorrow and a furious frown

 

i have seen this portrait before

a young shot in life is beautiful…

 

only fantasies…not memories

are fortunate figures of repetitions…

how i wish…i wish

 

there are just days and no nights

of beds and foul scents of roses…

the night is here and the stings of thorns.

iii

the night howls a darkened ether

and cooing clouds in dusts of dusk

 

the waning moon is hedged

veiled behind cloudy spells of darkness…

 

but not this crescent’s smile

the lighted bow void of gloom

such a skinny smile darkness could dread!

 

lewis… this maybe night

swollen with seeds of sadness

i shall light a smile…

 

flickers of fire

adio, the night is pregnant with cold

sniffing my skinny skin in chilling scorches

 

i take lofty logs of lines

desiring the taste of fire

from the swaying branches of art

 

i wet their passions in the unction

from the big bottle of mother muse

and then fire…

i solace in the warmth of flamy flees…

from the fire of poetry!

ii

my thoughts cruise in the dance

the dance of fire to the tunes of frisson breeze

for mother has gone far and away for food

how i miss the felt of her bosom…

 

the fire flickers burst in excitement

for the little glow that spears the darkness

like star dusts…like shooting stars

they trail in the songs of fire vast…vanishing…

 

i clutch some and now sweet soothing singes

rest in fades between the lines of my palms…

iii

agog, i chase and chase little lights

so curious to create their own fire…

 

yet, in this steaming daft of night

i wrestle these thoughts

on the rings of my mind

like flickers of fire…

 

we are born…

we glow…

we fade and die…

 

spoilt

i

how can i tell you of your flaws?

when you are flanked

by honeys from deceitful hives

of truthful lies in bloated bellies of  bees

 

would i not sound like

a prophet of doom amidst

drooling accolades of your accidents?

 

would not my bricks of corrections

chorus a thud of envy

and paint me

a predator of progress…?

ii

how will i tell you, idun?

 

that your teeth are not yet strong for sugarcanes

for these brown barks

grey with years in rooty tentacles…

 

when you ride on pride

for the crush you pay

biscuit bones in sweet beans…

 

would you eat the corn on cobs

and maybe train your milky teeth to mature…?

 

would you not say

i want you stagnant in the arms of patience

 

and plague my motives a pretentious interest …?

iii

how can I tell you…how?

 

that i am the print that directs your blue

that our configuration is a twin code

you are the blue and i am the print

a designed destined blueprint…

 

when you are consumed by lucks of  luxury

and you jeer at my prospered penury…

 

would you not say i am

a trespasser; a poor gold-digger?

 

would you not call your dogs

the sycophants you call friends

to bark, bite and tear me piecemeal?

iv

how will i console your wail?

 

when you tell your whips in weeps

in twitching sights and gasping nostrils

and your tears flag…

 

fragments of failed dreams

a set of broken teeth

and your blues without prints…

would you share my grief?

would you cry with me

when passion pains wind me in teary mills?

would you know my drain

that i have no tears left again!

 

 

Goodness Lanre Ayoola (b. 1989) hails from Osun State, Nigeria and lives in Abeokuta, Ogun State. He is a teacher of English language. He has a B.A(ED) in English from the University of Ilorin, Ilorin, Nigeria. His poems are published and reviewed on poetry sites and online magazines. He loves to work with great minds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About vision791

Pushcart nominee Jeanette Cheezum has been published on several online writing sites and in fifteen Anthology books and four poetry books. Three of these books have made the New York Times Best Sellers list. Awarded The Helium Networks Premium Writer’s Badge, Bronze Creative Writing Award and a Marketplace Writers award. Recently she has published thirteen ebooks at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. You may find a list of some of her work at www.hamptonroadswriters.org
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2 Responses to Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju Debuts

  1. Onis Sampson says:

    Wow… Creatively engaging as ever, Ayoola. More grace to your elbow, sir!

  2. Awoniyi Rasheed. says:

    Beautiful poems sire.. especially “tell the tree”.

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