Skip to main content

Whispering Night - Duet by Ayobami Ayanfemi & Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu


Sound rattling and rabbiting,
whirling and hissing,
moaning and sobbing 
in pleasure and pain

Torrents trampling on rooftops
Like vultures in love
Dancing to the waste line
Of beats on your waistline

Torturing my hairstyle
Twisting my royal band,
Milling watery salt with rancorous smile 
into my running engine.

Hissing eyes
Whispering legs
Confusion resides 
Behind the shadows of your smiles
Tell me, is this a haunted house?

Your hunting scheme lies underneath my linen,
Stilling in me unexplained words 
that counts while pouncing,
You plunged in me spears and recover my fears.

You drop defiled tears
Over the dates of my years
Years of haunting air
Air of non feasible dreams
Dreams like broken spears
Into your heart pierced.
Tell me, why do you bleed?

Why won't I bleed seed of words
Words of many wars
Wars of no cutlass and guns
Guns of bullets and shield
Shield of pain and sorrow,
so tell me why the whisper by this ungodly hour?

Shhh!
Don't wake the gods
Lest you get bitten by dogs
Dogs of our fears
Fears behind the walls
Walls cracked for long
Long before tonight...
Tell me, why do we whisper
And hush our heartbeats?
Doth he who lurks outside
Out smart our aged wits?

Why won't I wake the gods
gods that sleep not
Not in dreams and reality of things
Things of nothing and something
Something that silently break walls between us,
Your whisper whistled and cracked an egg in my heart
Heart of soft petal,you know.

Know yourself, dear friend
In you is a monster
Waiting to unleash on the braggart 
In you is 'godling'
Waiting to bully the bully
Who's reduced our shrieks to whispers
Whispers of frightened puppies...
Know thyself and unquiet the night

I have listened to bells of the night
And shut down the tears of the light
Changed the hands of time
Tried many times fuse of rhymes,
I unleashed monsters
But were devoured before they mold a star.

Lean on your whispers tonight
When dawn knocks dusk off the sky
Come tell tales how you survived
And mortals shall hiss and sigh
At your whispering tales

Can the whispering night bow to my voice?
Can the voice speak silently without echo of the night?
If I have to win a fight
Then it must whisper right in the night.

Hush!
Whisper!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

RIP: Return If Possible (Ode to my High School crush)

She would wink at me from the corner of her eyes. She would dare to slap the tallest in my class if he dares bully me for penning his name in my list of noise makers. She would share her pen  when mine is spent. She would help me take notes when sick I lay in bed. She played my advocate  even when I least deserve it. Her height, though intimidating earned more of my admiration. Her fingers Her palms though long and bold compared to my petite own were my favourite to hold. She was loud and noisy not never made the list. She would speak Igbo and wink 'you dare not write my name' Her drawings, I did when others I snub. JSS 3 to SSS 1 I crushed on this pretty girl But I was too shy to ink that poem. I left without letting you know how much I care. Had no time to appreciate your kind gestures undeserved defense... You were my crush. Augusta, When I found first Facebook you were the first I searched to add... In vain I searched  You were not found. I stalked the walls of our cl...

Featured Poem: What Happens When A Poet Falls In Love - by Martin Deep

Dusk brings the charms to my lips It would seem. The moon is here and My tongue is ripe with whispers. I can whisper now For my eyes are weary From telling poetry. How you were enchanted with the rhyme my sighs poured when I touched your fountain head! The candles have gone all out The muse has drunk up the oil of the lamp to the last droplet. The innocent wigs dies noiselessly. Is this what happens when a poet falls in love? That my trashcan becomes the graveyard for my pen That lay like thankless knights That have bled to please their mistress for quests unsent. Is this what happens when a poet falls in love? That the innocence of papers are stolen? How so many have cried in the merciless flames sentenced thus 'bearers of unworthy words' So pure our love is my love. So true. A cherub perhaps is ravished and he cries to God to have him be our ring bearer . What other fulfillment  is greater than our spirits soaring in each other's eyes? Is this what happens when a poet fal...