Adesola Oladoja writes

I

I am a broken poet 

with a-c-b-d,

I mean a-b-c-z, uh

My thoughts, disjointed;

seriously struggling to make sense,

coming, going, jumping, crawling

out of an aching head.

I am a broken verse

I like to be a ...

diving and ... all along,

dying at every attempt

to make musical melody

in lieu of melodramatic malady.

I am my father's son.

Last I saw him, I was

three,

munching a bag of flakes

he claimed to bring from hajj.

I am a nonsense poem

but somehow you are glued to me,

waiting to unearth

                   -unravel

                   -unleash the meaning

I bare.

I am a lover's woe,

coming when the bliss is sweetest,

leaving when the cry is saddest

for yet a little pat, a little tap,

a little moment of crazy upsurge,

wild electric frenzy. 

I am the hunter's 'gamed' game,

waiting to haunt back he who hunted

when dinner is nearly over, and

wives clutter in lively chinwag, 

I will enjoy the yelp, the roll, the thud

as he falls with his damaged

throat,

perforated by my bones. 

I am nothing

Don't waste till you catch me.

The answer on your lips,

when in silent wonder, you

leave men to torturous ponder. 

I, I, I 

I am you

when I want and please to be.

Now, you can go to bed,

pray your soul be fed,

rhythmic morsels, redeeming bread

to fine-tune your, your, your 

b-b-broken self. 

For now, I rest my wearied soul

 

 

 two busts of Virgil

Adesola Oladoja writes

To My Coy Mistress

Àsàké,

I see your shadow haunt me every night 

as bats caress the heavenly light.

Footsteps scurry in anticipated hurry,

echoes of your laughter flirts with my ear
from behind

But I wake to a different tale,
I wonder if to you, they are not stale,
your ramblings about mama's plea
and how papa warns you to flee
from me, Àdùfé.

Omolàbáké,
Mama's back aches;
she misses the soft feel of a toddler's cheek
and the wetness that comes with nature's call.
Or if a mad rehearsal lasts a century,
when will light welcome the malady?
When will the centre stage
cherish your age-long sacrifice?

Listen to the beat of your heart.
Don't you hear an age-long rhythm
for me ?
I, Àdùfé, am the joy of many a virgin
Adéróungbé almost eloped with me the other night
but the love I have for you,
the duende you have for me is sealed
in heaven's blissful terrain
where no mortal can interlope.

Awéléwà.
Time waits for no man.
We do not have eternity.
All we have is 'todays' wrapped up in new
names and numbers.
Bride me now that I may groom you onwards

Meet me under the odán tree
as Baba Awóyefá seals the union.
Mind not your parents' consent,
the earth already knows our intents.
If it's their blessings you crave,

a long time ago, in us, it was engraved.

Meet me where
no prying eyes will taint your sashay.
Just mine, Bàbá's and Olódùmárè
to witness our sweet becoming,
to seal a lifetime of 'me-youty'

Àsàké.
Come, let's be entwined now
till now fades...


Olodumare -- Lawrence Zúñiga Batista