MEMORIES...

It’s time for bed

I’m holding my pillows close

memories flood my thoughts

of you lounging and evading my gaze

smiles dancing in the corners of your lips

watching you try hard to ignore them.

My hand touched yours

you shifted yours away

and then I know

you could feel the currents too.

I remember my glimpse into paradise

when on my lips yours were fixed

and it was that time

I noticed my heart beating together with yours

thumping in rhythm

it became clear I’m stuck.

That time your head lies on my chest

when pleasant sigh escaped your lips

I felt it too

as contentment seeped into our bones

dreams coming true.

Vivid memories won’t stop dancing

wriggling in abandon through my thoughts

born of your lingering essence

left on my pillows

and here I am , sinking delightfully into it.

Oluwole.

Pictures courtesy of google.com

A VOICE FROM THE HILLS-BAGA!

We were flowers at our prime,

our scent wafts around,

the songs we could sing ,

the harmony of our shores,

the ease of our world.

The grim reapers came calling,

uninvited,

their sickle shine brilliantly

it flashed only once

and its shine became dulled by our juices.

Some were budding flowers

the pregnant were not spared

our nursery lost its glamour

story of land razed to ground

from the shores of our land

When you see our Jona

tell him he’s done us well

when you see our turbaned lords

tell them our voice is gone

and no more will it ever be heard.

Oluwole.

Pictures  Courtesy of bbc.com

THE gods WILL DRUM AGAIN!

The time is nigh

the gods will make music again

each time,four years apart

its time to dance and/or be gored.

The gods will drum again

music of the deadly feral gong

filth to filth; death to death

the clock-hand draws closer.

Different twists goes the rhythm

some to death in rallies

some to death by assassins

some to the end by rituals.

Four seasons ago they struck their sounds

their drums resonating

from the East of the Northern shores

blown to bits, one after the other.

Last time the gods had their party

children were stolen from the huts

sold to slavery, sold to sex

from the hills the staccato rings.

The gods are wont to drumming

and drum they shall

listen not to the poisonous symphony

lest you be stung or worse.

Of what use is a warning

when fate has wooed ill for some

they hide not from the resonating pulse

in that, they condemn more to mourning.

The gods are making their drums

it never announces for good

and if heed is not taken

at the next s-election, the gods will drum again.

Oluwole.

ANOTHER THURSDAY

Its the 86^th thursday

again I get to drink-in the sight of you

and see again the sparkle of your teeth

when you smile across the table at him.

Every thursday I wonder what he says

that brings that glitter into your eyes

and the laughter pealing boundlessly from those lips.

I’m green with envy

Take your eyes off him for a minute

bless my face with your stare

smile again towards me

I’m always at door duty every thursday.

That will do me just fine

till thursday is here again.

Oluwole.
http://wolespeaks.blogspot.com/2015/01/happy-2015.html

HAPPY 2015!

This is to wish everyone here a Happy New Year.
Wishing you a greater year than the last on all fronts.
We apologise this is coming a bit delayed...