Thursday 1 October 2015

Poem - Adesola

Adesola,
Clothed in beauty as a Queen in Solomon's yard.
In this graceless world
My heart mellows on your gracefulness.

I thought you were a mirage
Until like a trough to a camel your water refreshes me.
To male my type
You are as rain to a farmer.

Adesola,
If you were a venomous snake
I'd let be bitten seven times by you
Death in your embrace I will face
Boisterous wind on your ocean I will brace.

Your clean, well carved delicate hands
Remind me of fine Turkish embroidery
Wrapped in it Death defeat
Clasped with it Frost a toast.

Your giggles calm a tornado.
My heart it leaves pulsating
In dashes as you dish them
In gulpings as I swallow them.

Adesola,
The day I saw you, day of my rebirth

Of this world's pleasures you are my orthographical sentence.

FLASH FICTION - DESIRES SO DEEP

Ceremoniously (or so I think about what is before my little opening) dad plunges into an open container then reappears with smudge on him. In no time he is in again, then out, relish on his face. Just newly begotten at the time, I would later come to experience the immense pleasure that sat on dad’s face as I watch him that night.

Son, it is our call. It is our duty to sire and put to the plow, as it were, desires and schemes of man. That is your duty. Then he’d let himself be wiggled, “shiggled” and tickled then tucked in.

Dad used to tell of that time long gone when my ancestors sat amongst men. He said when the Declaration of Independence was signed, his great granddaddy saw to it. He also mentioned the Magna Carta. That at its conception and birth, hand in hand did our kind walk alongside men, oh, and a woman.

From birth, we are made assuredly. Restricted to a certain length and bulk, but not restricted in capabilities. I seem to wonder though: why all the flesh and just a streak of vein, and eventually the pointed cap, yes, a cap like that of a Cambodian rice farmer, atop my whole shaft?! Just because of the sludge? Does it make it spurt? Does it add to the flurry of sensation, making it hit home; bam?! Well, thinking of it, that sludge, through that one singular vein, could sire millions. I wonder what the human race would have been without us in existence. Would they have prospered? Would they have multiplied? Would families have been constituted differently compared to how we know today?  Hmm…Kudos to our Creator then.

On the sides though: what was the maker chewing upon when it crouched somewhere in his or her head and he or she decided that just as I and my kin are made, is how we are going to be made? To think that I could have been anything but an object for sticking out and sticking in, I think is quite not ingenious. Varying in length and spurting different colours as the case may be, (well, that’s a good thing though) I still find it upsetting that all am made to do is just: stick it out, scribble with it and swoosh, stick it in.
Disconcerting as I may seem about my use, I take delight in these uses. I could thrust. I could swiggle. I could wriggle. I could mingle. I could even scribble! But the greatest pleasure comes when the juice dribbles down my “spine.”

If you, say, raise me heads up, my drawy sticky juice wouldn’t flow out. For reasons I do not know, I just wouldn’t function that way. But were I to be “rock solid” (the word is ram-rod) in my full glory, slightly tilted like the earth is on its axis, thrusting me harder against that surface, then, I’d bet you will find my usefulness can be very pleasing.

Come to think of it, the sheer thrill I provide in that posture is well documented. Take Louis Hamilton for instance. It leaves him smiling for years. Ah! To the bank man! The juice I provide, splashing like perforated lines! One time too, a certain human took me up with such care and warmth then stuck me into a tight conical tract so dark inside that I thought I was snaking down a tube somewhere in an underground London, then draws me out to scribble on “that surface.” The impact of that action is still felt today.
Of all humans, the ones I like most are the types that make me release my priced juice extendedly, over time. (Another insight here: the longer it is delayed the more pleasurable on release!) These ones know how to enjoy life!
Left hand hefted or right hand hefted. My, my, you know, my whole in that hole with enameled white centurions! Hmm…hmm…

I cannot divulge the other uses have been put to, except of course you wield some sort of Parliamentary Act before my opening. Yup, am sorry I can’t help you there.
Alas, my family has been serving humans since time itself!
By the way, am a pen.



Sunday 30 August 2015

FLASH FICTION - RIMS OF LOVE


I was still asleep when I felt a warm body clasped mine, curling a calm smile on my sleep-full face. I decided to feign ignorance though, as my face was turned towards the still locked window. No sooner
had the body encircled mine that series of soft wet kisses graced my right upturned cheek. My smile by now was so "loud" that further pretence, feigning 'sleepfullness,' was meaningless. Even though she knew that I was already awake, she decided to dance to my tone.

"Good morning" I said, as I finally opened my smile-filled eyes sluggishly.

Tera and I have been together since our Secondary School days. And she has been that hairy part of a Velchro and I the hard rubbery hair part. We are more than married couples as my friends like to say.

Her "particulars" are world renowned! Her backside sends men tumbling over one another, and no kind of hers that never stops to say a word or two of compliments. In fact her mechanism of movement is so luring that majority of my friends always wish to have her. But the unvarnished truth is that she can never love another or were it to even happen, funny, that another will be me all over again. Trust that we debate this to no end amongst ourselves! However, we end up in a stalemate each time.

Every day as I wake up to behold her interminable beauty, my love continues to flow just like a living
spring. Her beauty is impeccably perfect.

"Well, well, well, what should we do first?" I asked, my voiced laced with great delight.
 
With that bright-eyed killer look, she points her index finger at the kitchen door.  Cuddling, we trudge to the kitchen where I opened the refrigerator and fetch her her usual early morning drink. Taking a quick swipe, her face suddenly lit up and winking at me, she dashed out the door. I just smiled. Wondering and expecting a surprise on her return.

 I proceeded to make us both a light breakfast, which in no time was ready. I served the meal but Tera was not back yet. So love-filled, I couldn't bare her absence for long. I decided to see what was holding her up on her whereabouts. As I opened the door in the middle of the night ,the sky seems bereaved and about to cry. It's just 5:40 am and the moon,still up there, was not left out. Like a wick with no flame atop it, it looks cold. I cannot but pretend as though I am oblivion of their presence. I called her name but no one reply. I was afflicted by worry as I finally resorted to going back home. It was then that I caught a glimpse of her by the kerb.     
 
"Tera, are you waiting for someone?" I asked patiently, but there was no reply. I called out to her
again but all to no avail. Only when I moved to her  side of the road did I see it. realize she was
not sitting but rather swimming in a pool of blood. I vociferated as I was frozen with fear. Neighbours trooped out to see what had happened. After enormous sympathetic outpouring , I scooped her into my arms and took her home where I laid her to rest till we meet again. By now the sky was already crying and thunder chased all passers-by hurriedly home . I stood outside, in front of Tera's resting place as I pondered  her mysterious death. While I sat on my sick thought, my phone rang. It was my boss was on the phone.

" You haven't forgot about our meeting with the Chairman tomorrow, have you?" his moustached voiced came through. I just grunted my response.

"Good." he said, then hung up.

Then it hits home!

Who will I return to when I do so after the meeting tomorrow? Whose arms will shoo away the world's weariness that's on my shoulders? Whose kiss will wake me up each day and send me to sleep every night? In whose arms will I feel secure?! Then I wailed!!

"She is just an innocent Dog!"

 
EPILOGUE

I woke up the next day without my dog (Tera) but no cause for alarm, Mr Ibu has promised to send
me another Australian dog. Unfortunately I am hemmed in fear that I might be robbed before the arrival of the new dog.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Fabiyi Olumide Kayode, is an English Languge Major Undergraduate Student of The Obafemi Awolowo University,Ile - Ife, Nigeria.

 

Saturday 29 August 2015

Poem - I Didn't Forget

I didn’t forget
I couldn’t get myself to.


I never started
I couldn’t bring myself to.


Sometimes I wish I could
Most times I wish I didn’t even try


To try…? To try….?
I’ll have to change my heart.


It didn’t stop loving you,
How hard I worked at that.


I throw someone else at it,
It just would not shift ground.


I’d lurch anyone its way; a choke hold,
Like a boomerang, It’ll land back at your corner; target reversed.


Am beginning to think you took it with you
And left me a replica to thinker.


Your laughter staggers round my ear
Your touch makes my skin skid skillfully


Like the path the sun trails everyday to the west
My heart settles on you in every way.


I didn’t do you any wrong
You wronged me neither.


I didn’t forget your kiss,
How could I, when it was shared.


I didn’t forget
Because I couldn’t get myself to.

Monday 10 February 2014

Someone Else's Tears



For her age, not a single sign of wear and tear
Not even in the manner that she hurries down the road,
Leaving fine trails behind, on two sides
Trails she would never tarry to admire
One after the other, her never-ending shapeless body pours forth
Heralded by the everyday brushes with conflicts and contrasts:
A thoughtless word, a lice-infested action, a hushed pungent thoughts.

A little drop to each drop before that drop; merges
Forms and snakes downward
We only need to sight heron someone else's to make a huge swallow of spittle.
Her scents, although you couldn't put a taste name to,
curries us in.

Carried on the strong river currents of someone else's
By every notes and keystrokes
To every sense and sense buds, naked and sheathed
Hitting the spots spot on, cornering us.
Her pulses are hard and thorough
Enough to evoke same response: a thorough and hard pulse

Were you to attempt to soothe those of someone else's
She would ambush you into opening your own source for someone else's
For her hands reaches into your core, fondling it
Her legs sat tentacled somewhere between a shared grief
Her voice is bound in notes and chords not bound by any known notes and chords

She is water we hardly want to see flow, someone else's.
She is a river no one wants to put a paddle to
A river one only wants to dam; of blood and non-bloods
Those of now to travails of years that have aged on
Someone else's tears
Reminds us why we are humans,
make me human wash me clean.

Thursday 7 November 2013

Shantay


I saw an angel with a black mane
With a supple, sumptuous succulent face
Her smiles beam text messages of love and comfort
Her eyes says, “Come, find respite in my arms.”
Her name evokes the sensualities of heavenly flowers: Shantay

In her strides is happiness
Passed on to every soul that sights her
Each step of hers causes a gasp and a wow from the men -folks
For her aura is seven times more than that of the aurora

If you were not an angel Shantay,
I’d make you my angel.
I’d invite you into my dreams every night
For then I will sleep on, not wake up to a world without you.

If you were a stream Shantay,
You’d be my only source for water.
I’d visit your bank everyday till no day is left
I’d lay
I’d roll
I’d bathe and revel in your warmth and essence.

If you were water,
I’d sip you till I go drunk on you
For you are never going to do me any harm
But refresh my soul and cause a fountain to burst forth.

If you were winter,
I’d have you each day and all year round
So I could feel your chill till no end.
You will make me cold
You will make me warm.

If I were a sensible man,
I’d drape you around my heart
Marry you and live in bliss forever.

But what am I?
I am a man stung by your beauty
I am a man and I don’t want to live a day without being stung further
Perched around your laughter, grace and beauty, Please sting me some more!

Your beauty shames the aurora
Because it is full of lights of life
Your smile makes the sun cower in fright, going dim by the minute
Because it illuminates even the most sorrowful of hearts.
Your soft silky soothing face puts angels to sleep
Your heart makes your God, Jehovah glad.

Shantay, please take me home
Afford me with a ride on your wings
With a spot the size of pinhead in your heart,
And I’d be home
Yes, I’d be home forever.

Wednesday 23 October 2013

This Wall. These Walls

This wall. These walls.
Not this wall but that wall,
closing me in
on this and that side
like water in a mug.

This wall. These walls!
With heights,hedges and holds
clasping my feet and feats
in shackles sharp and sure - with utter surety

These walls not of sand but of dusts.
Not of water but of blood.
Not of straws but of veins, flesh, valves and vessels.
This wall, these walls,
Not made with hands but with a band!

These walls I must take to take to the bricklayer
For he built this wall,and these walls!

These walls, my fear.
Myriads and myriads, cast in concrete casings
Fear that I may try and try might I that fear.

This wall, my body.
I will speak to this wall
I will tramp this wall and squash this wall as I speak to this wall!
I will take the tube and not fear you wall!
I will tell her how I feel and not fear you wall!

This wall am standing faced unfazed
Here is a hole! A hole to lift me!.
Here is a  edge! A edge to hold!
Here is a hand! A hand to strap my waist! 
Ha ha,walls, walls everywhere with no bases.
I triumph!

Bliss

Bliss
Expressing