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| Omosun Sylvester Urdeen |
| POEMS FOR THE GENERAL PUBLIC |
| my silent world
She couldn't believe what was happening, Told me; it was like a movie, Coming through her barred door Swallowing her a whole Taking her along with its story Told me that it was like living in each movie An avid spectator of your own performance Where each film strolled to a start each morning Animating conversations only with the dance of the tongue There are times When she seems to know What am thinking before I said a word And when I pointed it to her She said that it�s a simple skill When someone loses a primary sense Like hearing others grew more acute That I was in her movie A film where the tone of voices doesn't matter where it is possible to hear in silence with voices she alone can hear |
| The circle
the clock clicks as the day wanes and the pain clicks creeping within falling down baptizing me� time clicks chatting a new dawn revealing a new rebirth when hope clicks away� every second counts in the endless circle of life The hope and the pain clicked within� It will fall it will rise It will click and it will creep And we will learn� The trial that is....... life |
| The burial
we danced and sang from morning till night we drank our fills with the rhythm of drums we shook our groin and jerked our hips we danced this way and we danced that way, The cry against injustice refusing to fade the gong beats its testicles refusing to wane our rage traced out a mamba stance and the oracle news never comes with nothing bad. from every side the music screamed round and round the nuance swirled right and left the poetry calls homing on us a song our father sang, The chain of violence brought tears of agony And the sign of hunger suppressed our laughter Yet we danced and sang from morning till night And drank our fills with the rhythm of drums. Adieu, adieu, adieu, adieu, adieu |
| A Child Again
I watch children playing in the mud Making castles out of clay I wished their creative hands upon me too Creating my thought into play- Me in form of clay Me into a shape My dream in all it fold Happily ever after Like children happy play. |
| A lineage of ruin
Through the field they press Wild and fierce the battle still Were hundred of my kinsmen fall On machete red with our blood The brotherhood left us behind outstretched at length on the earth Limbs and knees lost to the onslaught Counting stars for saviors sign A long lineage of ruins yet The masses promotes the terrible things The assassins method By blood ebbs in easy death And that which comes homes to us Is merely the living dead Tattered bodies bones and skeleton To make the maniac true |
| Walk In The Wood
I needed it To walk in the wood Under the shade of the trees, Unpadded feet over grass- I needed to find my thought It is what I always do When I had work to do To act it up deliberately As good poets always do I walk, talk and heard the wind By the oak wood thirty feet or more high Whispering through the trees With a sound of its own Clapping leaves, chirping insect calling Making a tune in line with my thoughts, I needed to be here and write about Africa, A familiar scenery to act up ones thought. Where the creek flows by the narrow streamlet Were I can act my past and my past becoming me |
| BIOGRAP |
| ESSAY - RITUAL SPACE |
| INTERVI |
| MY BOOK |
| IN MY H |
| ESSAY - |
| MY BLOG |