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Our Lantern Is Lifted for our Saviour: Poems by Adeola Ikuomola



When the day’s goggles’ go dim
And our lashes square the beam
Like silence haunted by thunder
The reigning woes we fall under

Dirty delegates from armed skies
Scenes for sickening mobs’ styles
Herded but blindfolded hostages
Thunder for resounding postages

Deep drums deck the dewy dome
Birds chirping blindly in the home
We wait for bright days to be free
Like birds soaring beyond the tree

A dark night hovering much longer
Skims our hearts with deep hunger
Distanced from a vicious behaviour
Our lantern is lifted for our Saviour



Love is the vision
Peace is the dream
Harmony is the revelation
From heaven to the hate-cracked world wall

Love is the gate
Peace is the door
Harmony is the window
To the grain-gathering gardeners

Love is the tongue
Peace is the speech
Harmony is the language
The world has refrained from speaking

Love is the needle
Peace is the thread
Harmony is the hand
To stitch the hate-breached world wall together



The seas swallowed sinking shadows
The mountains mourned monuments
Their grazing gods shivered with cold
Tears trembled through torn throats
Like the tunes of the teething organs

Fires mourned maggots in the faggots
Dirty deities demanded deeper dirges
Sorrow burrowed down bone marrows
Like the grave bleeding for more souls
In the arts of mourners and morticians

Bandages pay homage to our bondage
Like the turbulent seal made in the sea
Within the pain locked up in our grains
And the thorns embedded in our wines
Value plays video games on our rations

Deception is in our economic recession
Like the dark seeking to knee-play light
Or the butterfly wooing thunderstorms
Elephants blow the thunderous trumps
To recalibrate our embattled eardrums



Dark thunderclouds were wild’s fiery vows
Generating their aerially christened relays
But within their bottled atmospheric cows
Lightning reared death-dispensable delays

The rainbow glows in the beauty of seven
The softened tears of the angels to savour
Abreast the exclusive pageants for heaven
From wet skies she skims exclusive favour

Upon the stream she walks on paired toes
Like urns documenting the dead for nights
In the dungeon she notes rare vicious foes
Like a new clock ticking off the old Knights

The rainbow wins the wars with rush gown
Speaking on her pillow cases in the stream
From her pocket fresh water dances down
Like the dead resurrecting in a dairy cream

Evening trades in olden gowns dyed so late
At the night twilight fires in communal shot
Like the bereaved moon on mourning plate
Lest his doors to the lime light be dead shut

Midnight enters with his solemn oral creak
The marauding beasts offer quick applause
Like the waves trawling down the old creek
With the canoes offering a pleasurable plus

The sunrays tick out the skies for a capture
Like the blind insects in the spider’s thread
Fair flowers are souls caught up by rapture
When weeds are crowned with dark dread

Life is the dull circumference of a polar tale
Told abreast dark imageries tagged unseen
Mortality pursuits explore our expiring tail
On dark orders from an unreachable scene

When our breath declares it is fully porous
Like the hole in the ancient homemade hat
The last word is deafened by a fake chorus
Mourners and morticians make a fair heart

Poems © Adeola Ikuomola

Adeola Ikuomola
Adeola Ikuomola
Adeola Ikuomola is a Nigerian poet.

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