Oritsegbemi Emmanuel Jakpa

 

Spliced Words
for J Ennis

Like ancient walls blown down
by the wind, my own verse,
crumble into mustard intervals
of broken seeds.

These poems could outlasta tree;
storms beneath my bleeding skin;
mammoth supernovas of exploding light
that illume the glade

of the horizon of my thought
like florescence bulb at midnight;
dream songs,
and the tale of Near St. Mullins.

Corn after rain; eyes have spreaded out
like egg white over these words.
Critics stop by.

 

Silent Drums

Silent stay the drums
for no hand to tap, tap,

tap and hit them
into crescendo of beats

that are repository
of history and folk tales.

Gonge dancers sit idle
thinking of music

that once brought
sincere joy to the heart.

Silent stay the drums like monkeys
dreaming of banana.

 

My Dear

My ekhu lies open
in the wet swinging monsoon of June,
flagging my shirt
as I stand waiting for you.

The petals of the flowers
in the garden are full, burning bright
under the orange sun,

a long thin leave of grass two feet high
swings in a to and fro motion,
than all the others.

Like ice melting in water
you enter me.

And I fountain in your soul,
passionately,
gratefully.

 

Rain at Midnight

Outside, the rain rinses the road.
making hissing
sound of fish frying in a pan.

Leaves dripping water like washed shirts.
Above, plain dark sky,
without moon nor stars,

not even the sign that is its raining.
The wind is moist,
combing through my hairs

like water through river weeds.
A light went off
in the window fronting me.

Probably someone is going to sleep.
What eyes have gazed
at this rain, the way mine do now?

I close my window, and turn to you
as you lay on your bed,
about to sleep. I whisper good night.

 

River Bird

Do people admire
your flight
river bird?

The way you glide
left and right,
floats on the air?

You seem like a skilled swimmer
lost in an ocean.