By Ridwan Bello, Kaduna, Nigeria
The journey began and eschewed
Deep through the valley, the shadow line
As the sea goddess watched over head
That of father right within my chest
More afar move we shallow own thought
Gloomy, the sun weeps to welcome dark sight
O! Shall we sleep in his melodious tone?
That lulls the arc to kiss late souls?
Multitude of them drew it for theory
So to feed one’s mind so cold in hate
Standing by with me in that storm
Was to see how sick the noble bow
Down with honour to imitate a child
Just for he eats among the dead.
Who shall watch over
Duel blind sight of mine
While the very last oculist choose
Owns fate to part all bounty
Who now shall lead me home?
To the pool in Bethesda “J”
Perhaps have spent all youthful
Gay, wondering about the world
Of words in new antiquity.
Shall I ever spot those birds to ever ask
Me about new meditative lines to
Represent the hollowness of those portraits?
Yet, blame I not the gods, but the inks I do.
© Ridwan Bello