The Sun-God
At Mount Horeb
Sun-god
sitting
still on Mount Horeb
amidst
the stark clouds,
sweeping
towards the swept
open
space between trees
and
pawing at white and dark fleshy flesh.
Sun-god
your
pale, smirky lemon face
like
the grapefruit in Ago-Iwoye Market
scribbles
dirt patches on my face
and
made my throat to swill water
enough
to fill up a tank-container.
Oh
sun-god!
I
plead,
do
not douse us all
from
this buzzy day
only
‘dap’ softly softly
into
the balmy, cosy night.
The Best Of Rest
The
hurly-burly wind
That
passed by yesterday
Is
down the drain
In
nothing flat,
A
new stripe of book will flicker
Like
a virginal carbon-paper
Awaiting
to be stricken
In
spiffy smirch of streak
The
moment lapsed
And
the night is at its lull
Copping
some z’s
When
drapery is drawn over the sun
As
if to shoot the next seen of film
Is
like snatching dreamer’s dainty dream
Grim
reaper can pop up to snatch your consciousness
Or
pop up when you are of grey age
No
one knows
When
it will wheel by
When
it will take hold of you
When
it will thwack
At
the door of your ticker
Grim
reaper is that film shot
With
characters unidentified
Location
not really allocated
Grim
reaper is that second coming of Messiah:
Demise
is the emblem of life.
To
them
That
cannot say yes
To
the cat-o-nine-tails of life;
The
best of repose has punched the clock
Sweetest
of rest it is.
Guava-Tree
(threnody)
The
GUAVA-TREE at my frontispiece
Initially
was intensely sturdy
Maturated
Full-blown
And
dead:
Now
sawed
With
a sanguine chainsaw.
Its
browned leaves
Playfully
hovering amongst the windy wind.
Dead
leaves beneath my feet,
Squashed
with a regard plaintive melody repeat.
The
squashed dead leaves of my heart
Reminisce
the lost and bygone dreams
Hushed
in the shadow of relic grit.
Beyond
a shadow of a doubt;
Life
is like a pinch of earless silk of corn
Or
Like that of a dead guava-tree
Sawed
with a sanguine chainsaw.
Martins Tomisin Olusola
Martins Tomisin Olusola is a Nigerian poet,
editor, essayist and photographer. He studied at Olabisi Onabanjo University
(OOU) at Ago-Iwoye where his literary piece (poetry) have earned him
recognition and many awards for the best in POETRY WRITING at the KOLAJ
FESTIVAL usually held yearly. Some of his poems have been published in prints and
online publications, including MY FIVE-FIVE-FINGERS, THE BEAUTIFUL ONES, A
LETTER FROM A PRISONER, THE SUN-GOD AT MOUNT HOREB, THE BEST OF REST and so on.
He is known for being addicted to poetry. In fact, he just completed his first
volume of poetry and hopes he get them published in print after he raise enough
fund. He vehemently believe that, "life without poetry is like a soup without
condiments; without it, life will be flavourless, distasteful and
unrhythmic."