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Odyssey: Poems by David Diai

 

BREW

. . . a stirring brews
in the tankard of this seasons
election wine ;
the ferment will intoxicate
and scatter the brewers. . .

…and now brother
holding your worthless card
emblemed with the naive colours
of October’s farce independence…

did you vote for the tyrants?
Yes?
No?
how do you feel?

drunk!

. . . this is the season
of intoxication
and the final naming
of our new transition . . .

=========

IFY

… someone like you
talking softly
conquers the day
with charm and grace

you still the wind
with the majesty of your gait
and the music of crimson twilight
plays in the lilting rhythms of your smile

child of deep Delta
birthed to the streams
song of a thousand rivers
merging in your confluence…
ify…
– peace-

=========

CRYSTAL WATERS

…the day sometimes
basks in tranquil stretch
like the aftermath of orgasm
released by wind…

and raptured in the aura of sublime noon
my soul levitates like soaring sigh
caressed by softest breeze whispers
beyond horizons of unfettered dreams…

i drink from the crevices
of your crystal waters black princess
and traverse like Rudolf’s ego
across the sublime contours
of your olive silhouette
gliding rhythmically with genteel strokes
towards the moistured depths
of your grooved nirvana
where exotic aromas blend with Eden’s juice
and the intoxicating honey
of nectared muscatel
conquers the liquid fireballs
of my unrestrained explosions…

and when sleep steals into my being
and desires fade with echoes of ecstasy
i will remember the day sometimes
basking like lonely hope
in the distant quietude
of love wasting away

when i dipped into your golden lava
and was sucked into your luscious vortex
like Bermuda swallowing fires
after midnight…

=========

TWIG

… love and ode
smile and lonely tune
nude noon and prologue
twilight ushers the epilogue!

…and we shed tears sometimes
when the innocent suffers
when the children starve
when your erection falls
like an impotent twig…

…but life limps along
in spite of the farmer king
and the ambush of time
and the colours of love…

when the sun rises
at dawn…

=========

ODYSSEY

…the wind tilts
like a frenzied lover
at the peak of ecstasy

…and i

like Caliban’s shadow
chase filaments of echoes
ricocheting in the empty cellar
where my heart once was….

… i am oz
with the breeze behind my back
huffing and puffing poisoned mists
like furnace choking on its breath
strange wizard like vizier
rumblings and throttling in wheezing fumes
alchemist of a thousand desires
wasted in another back yard lust…..

…and time
like mystic wand
conjures the days
tumbling into years
betrayed by wrinkles
and the scandal of rags…

chasing loves utopia
into the twilight of age!

-odyssey…

=========

. . . EPITAPH FOR A FAILED MAN

. . . here
sitting on a hard bench
and watching two birds perch
on a naked tree branch

is a promise

gathering dust. . .

=========

RIPPLES

. . . i stand beguiled
stranger by the bank of tranquil Niger
tickled by the brush of sighing breeze
interred with sunrays and stirring peace

. . .i am lone egret
mating with the sky
in extravagant poses

winged surfer that I am
lifted like silk
beyond echoes and sky mists
to orgasm’s peak at heaven’s podium

…i am watermelon
hanging ridged from frail tendril
of withered frond
mysterious like age and incantations
waiting for March and the glory of rebirth
.
. . i am who i  am
a bird with a forlorn strand
sailing across sky ocean
to build a nest of straws

. . . i shall dare the quaking storms
and wrestle surging storms to still
and bask in the ruffles of the calm Niger
even in this harsh season

when the sun laughs too deeply
into my eyes . . .

=========

MIRAGE

. . .do not feel
that i am distant in your mirage
that i am hidden from you mosaic
that i am fading from your canvass

. . .i am an orphan these days
bereaved by life’s cruel cudgel
sentenced to crumbs and droplets
bondaged to the whims of betrayed hopes . . .

love is blemished
trust is tainted
desire beclouds the judgements
when lust rules the senses . . .

…so do not feel.
that the rush of your stream swirl
is silent in my soul . . .

i feel the passion of your waters
i hear the swish of your waves
i touch the wind of your hopes

…and i
orphaned as i am in this bleak season
will sing a sweet song each breaking dawn
and let my laughter ring  into twilight
and embrace the calm peace of night

waiting for the sun
to raise you again

in my broken heart. . .

=========

From the Collection ASHFLAKES, Published December 2008. (c) David Diai

David Diai
David Diai
David Diai holds a B.A. English (Literature) degree from the prestigious University of Ibadan and a PGD (Journalism), from the IIJ. A Poet and Novelist, his works have been published widely in the Art pages of prominent Nigerian and International newspapers and Journals. His poems and short stories have also appeared in several anthologies in Nigeria. Regarded as an original and remarkable poet, essayist and short story writer, he has been at the vanguard of galvanizing the literary environment in the Niger Delta Area of Nigeria, not only as the founder of the Niger Delta Writers Network, but indeed as the initiator of other literary bodies across the area. He is a renowned Journalist and is currently the Publisher of Flashpoint Newspaper, the leading regional Newspaper in Delta state and the very credible online newspaper Flashpointnews Online. He is also the Chairman of the Delta Literary Forum. His first Published collection of Poems is titled Vernal Incantations. His second is Crosses on the Hilltop and the most recent published collection is Ashflakes. He is also working on a book of short stories titled: A Beard is a Beard and Other Stories.

1 COMMENT

  1. Remarkable poetry you’ve got here, David Diai. I enjoyed them all, especially ‘Ripples’! Your use of imageries is rich, while you also seem to pay much attention to pattern in your poetry. I find the predominant use of onomatopoeia quite appealing as it reinforces the appealing sounds therein. But what i find strange or perhaps unique with all the poems is the romance you’ve with the Niger Delta! You paint beautiful pictures about it, but in reality the headlines are painting a bloody place. Would i be right to say that as the negritudian Senghor does to Africa, David Daia does to the Niger Delta? Senator Ihenyen is the author of Colourless Rainbow:Poetry of My Childhood (forthcoming, Coast2Coast).

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