Poetry

African Stories: Poems by Adeola Ikuomola

Forest stairs

Image: Bigstock.com

AFRICAN STORIES

I always like to tell African stories
Under the umbrellas of the moon
And the guardianship of the stars
Without a racial trace on our race

I always like to tell African stories
Like the waves lapping the shores
And the palms wiping the breezes
To bridge up the generational gap

I always like to tell African stories
Like the hanging gardens of peace
Swinging to and fro in all greenery
Founded on the folklores of purity

I always like to tell African stories
Abounding in our glittering colour
With colourful cultures renowned
Bookmarked across all continents

I always like to tell African stories
About you my very precious child
The matured fruit from my womb
To glitter like raw gold in the fires
——-

MEMO TO MY SPOUSE

Your green leaves have caught me on your trees
To leave you no more but to offer pure greenery
Like the ointments brewed out of the olive trees
Planted in the solitary orchard in my heartbeats

I doff my heart and my hat like the panting harts
I am the wandering clown singing on the crowns
Upon the doves cooing colourfully in your lawns
I remain the raw material for their golden beaks

I am the lonely weaver bird weaving birthrights
Scripted solidly on the Holy Scripture from ages
Where faith crowns worn on the purified hearts
Accentuated by sanctuary of morals’ tranquillity

The innumerable multitudes of seasoned smiles
On your face like the suns celebrating an energy
Uploaded on the colourful rainbows in the skies
To drown on the celebratory ocean floors’ flaws

When joint account of love is jointly overdrawn
And the cheques of knitted hearts are signed out
Under the signatures of our compound interests
You vetted my drafts and voted for an adventure

Love is elusive, exclusive, inclusive, conclusively
I shrink not from my beliefs your heart my relief
Your love has prosecuted me times with seasons
I remain the inmate in the template of your arms
——-

UNDER THE BOWER OF A TREE

The sun ascended the sky’s podium
With his words burning like sodium
High seas hawked their saggy docks
Bearing huge intercontinental locks

She played like the airway born free
Under the bowers of the heavy tree
Overshadowed by some noisy peers
With her eyelashes branded in tears

The wind was a hireling on the field
The wave was like the morning fog
Weeping upon the skies’ huge hugs
With voices of the dungeon to heed

The raining sky opens the first page
And punched the clouds with a rage
The skies thumb-printed dull clouds
For the sleepwalking deadly crowds

The bower of the tree bowed down
To the authority of the roomy wind
Like birds fleeing from smoky gown
Into their parent’s custody they fled

It was vain from the truth to refrain
His bosom bears the brighter lamps
Highly powered bright star to reign
Like happy sunrays on dewy lambs
——-

THE DEATH LIQUOR

Death liquors fume in the garden
Within the criminal communities
The tendermost hearts to harden
Subduing their moral immunities

Death liquors fume in restaurants
In the shadowy base of savageries
Energising men like the elephants
Crowning airs with foul imageries

Under the helmets from insanities
Damaging petrified moral ovaries
Their immorally glorified vanities
Loom largely aboard foul avarices

Death liquors make legendary lips
Their windows the worlds to peep
With their souls’ lost flagged ships
Sinking down the depth born deep
——-

SOLEMN REFLECTIONS

Injured in and by the viperous dark night
The doomed din of the city loses its beats
To the silent heartbreaking ways of dews
Like the despaired moon in a solemn pool

Swine are chaotic concubines of the mire
Wines are demonic counsellors in the fire
The seminality of the sun rays they soiled
From the redemptive truths they recoiled

Deep gutters are their eventual terminals
Therein they rehearse forgotten seminars
Upon the crashing waves their lives boom
The thunderstorm speeding in their doom

There are no more hearts in the heartland
And no more lands in the lonely landlords
The body guards wail over their late body
For there are no more rivers in cross river
——-

YOUR LORDSHIP IS IN YOUR LOVE

Your lordship is embedded in divine love
And your glory in your infinite grace
Lord, as you fly upon your heavenly dove
My tongue is fashioned for your praise

The seas’ deep roaring the world can hear
The wandering clouds for eyes to see
All my sins you sent your only son to bear
I will dance for you even upon the sea

Foul are the fellowships within the world
Like swine robed in the royalty’s shawl
But on your pure written and spoken word
I sail in your lifeboat to the eternal shore

Now let all the organs in my heart be played
Like thunders arguing within the clouds
Even if my dearest Lord’s return be delayed
Firmly I stand against the hellish crowds

Lord, about the earthly woes my soul despairs
Like the bright light when darkness reigns
In your words my crushed heart bears repairs
Like the refreshing music of the latter rains
——-

WAVES

Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The heavily worded paragraphs of the seas
Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The wobbling tanks of the defeated troops

Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The truncated thoughts of the troubled souls
Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The big worms in adulterers and adulteresses

Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The blood brothers of heavy laden whirlwinds
Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The benefactors of the defenceless seashores

Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The diplomatic cargoes from the foreign lands
Waves! Waves!! Waves!!!
The mysterious arts and crafts of the Almighty
——-

BRIDES IN THEIR PRIDES

The sun had my head to bake
Like bread loaves in the oven
I was a comedian for the lake
Their lines were hand-woven

On me hanged moral debates
My friends in the frogs to slay
The continuous social rebates
Held in my head like mere ray

I was caught up on heat tunes
Like new organist babies horn
Learning from the dead dunes
I bore my marks from sunburn

The clouds were herded away
By shepherds to softer stream
My faith in safety bore a sway
Like the horror invaded dream

Births rang the bell for grooms
And here they identified brides
Maids for matrimonial brooms
But dedicated to porous prides

Fresh heaps of crushed suitors
For the skeletal vultures to tick
Pressure alighted upon pastors
Heavenly doorway daily to kick
——-

DOWN THE MEMORY LANE

Under the watchful eyes of maternal sunrays
Beneath huge light brightened guardian skies
Thought scripts, manuscripts with typescripts
Embraced the lonesome poet in his pen crafts

The vacant beaches seduced the distant skies
Dreams came from hireling towers to bowers
Loneliness was like knives peeling off the seas
Silence boom spelled the doom of the beams

Fair musings descended on the weak chairs
Under the spells of the divergent old couple
One was a wild cat and another a weird dog
With a mission to hug and a vision to dodge

Beneath the broken shadows in their hearts
Under the cover cloak of the departed peace
Was the still small tick of matrimonial vows
Leading the warriors down the memory lane

With the moons to mend their broken bones
And the stars to stitch their breached hearts
With the blinding sparks from the dark night
Their uniform voices shall wake the beaches
——-

DIVIDED NATIONS ASSOCIATIONS (D.N.A.)

There is no more love in the letter
There is no banter in the banquet
There are no peaceful peace talks
And no slim faith in the embraces
There is no shepherd for the flock
Death, sorrows and blood abound

The clouds have chosen to weep
And the seas’ choice is to mourn
Groaning prevail upon the storm
Thick forests hawk lamentations
Widowhood has lost its breadths
Terrorism truncates bridegrooms

Factories fashion deadly weapons
More are prepared for campaigns
To decorate the child with bombs
Virgins are caught and auctioned
The fresher foetus are consumed
State terrorist is a suicide bomber

The Divided Nations Associations
Retaining the fighter jets’ courses
Merely draw road maps for peace
Deepening the sorrows in the sky
Faith terrorism is widely crowned
Because peace is downed a piece

——-

Poems (c) Adeola Ikuomola
Image: Bigstock.com

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