Key to Eternity

Artwork by Irina Bara

Don't dare  sleep tonight
There are stars still to count
Shake your head off empty
This misery knows not safety
Life shed in vain
Love shrinks with time
The mighty rust
Athirst for his-self
Always
Preys on his births
And a benign welcome
Is due to new wakes
Like rain in thirsty earth
Every drop is counted
And his quake apprehended
With a grateful mild silence
His spring is but lavish
Be free as watery sky
Give yourself
Time is but shrinking bread
Satisfaction you never will know
Unless you yield
Right after death
silent it will be
Louder it'll scream
Echoes will wake us
We who came before
On the doors of eternity
Your soul will knock
None to open you'll meet
Yourself is the key
Wary you must be
Of the gate you'll open

Thinking

Artwork by Pennie Gibson

Sir, bow I'm writing

at lone island, not thinking

face smiling, heart shrinking

a man thinks, not thinking

God descend, realm is in my closure

thoughts are odorless, and not dreaming

but thoughts are me, mere my pleasure

a man is asleep. but not dreaming

Sound in background plays backward

melody is mute, I'm not hearing

in late memories (taste is awkward)

a man is speaking, I'm not hearing

Say I foretell stories in papers

would you buy me? Just asking

or if I was printed in fat-reddish letters

would you read me? Still asking

Think of a man with not a brain like me

given a pen or a world for living

at least a world, a pen he wouldn't see

if not for signing his name, a word for living

rd for living

Some nights are longer than others. Some dreams are lighter than others. There are mornings I wake up with an urge to forget my name, to forget people and how to step, but still I cannot forget everything.

Some poems are soothing. Some moments are flavorsome and unkind. If only time would halt, I’d go out looking for a song

Left hung on his shoulders,

The mighty

Where I truly belong

Bird of Paradise

Artwork by Irina Bara

I didn’t know you before

Navigating clouds of paradise

My lover’s name

The way I spell it ‘without feet’

It rhymes with soft waft

Underneath my wings

Keep vanity’s hands off,

The Bird of Paradise

Here’s the flame of affections

The chill of lonesome spirit

Humming through the chimney pathways

Illogically pretty (in Ngozi’ echo)

Your soul; old as ‘Thousand Hills’

Yet wise and beauteous, knows my fate

But (n)one of my faces,

And thus my heart, fell for nobody

Apparently nobody

But you, the Bird of my Paradise

In my muse I hearken to your songs

Roaming in the skies of my hut

In between glistening stars

My soul tails after you, gay and athirst

For the handsome wreath of halo behind your smile

Shadows the Goddess of beauty

Eventide, right before graceful slumber

I get caught in downpour of emotions

I but foretell

For the courage to reign shrank with the ages

Untiring ages, soul-prickers

Frap me with your wings, dear Bird of Paradise