GHOST ON THE MOON
A ride through whims, as kids –
we sunk deep on our beds
and thoughts came in that
made us whirr.
Is that a bloke on the moon -
With firewood and a hound?
We can see him clearly from
this ground.
Is that a pot lay on the moon?
And is this bloke covered in
black coat – with a red ribbon
tied across his waist.
Omen!
O Men! Don‟t you feel the
doom that swells forth from the
glow of the moon?
O Dear! How scaly looking are
our skins under the moon. How
frightened and weak have our
limbs grown – it growls inside
out, and emits “fear” cause
this is the rarest of dreams.
Are we pallid?
Or are our eyes playing
"volley" with us.
No! It is real, the walls are
grumbling. Rocks are knelt in
adoration and service to this
bloke on the moon;
as he conjures destinies within this dreamscape.
The Earth's joysome day has come –
let the reverse be the case:
“de nada le ghost.”
The more smoke that grew out
from the woods he burned,
the more frosty grew the dead
and buried on earth. The dirt-
filled-dead grew out of their
graves, laddering themselves
out of the coffins, they lay,
and smashing tombstones.
Their soiled feet
Hit hard on the earth, and the
ground shook dimensionally –
as they rampaged, following
the direction of a "horn''
blown by a “half-snake, half-
woman” with strands of hair
breathing fire,
So dire
Is the scenery
That our eyeballs bled like it
had been dirked.
We got so tired of this
corrupting images and devilish
show, like rapture had come –
says the “Holy Book.”
We prayed in our pajamas
That our foots leave this world,
We want none of this –
We exhaled
We wailed,
Suddenly,
Everything accelerated: the
trees grew blood and the air
had taste. Sound travelled in
minutes, and we had the
number of our fingers tripled,
on one hand.
Distance;
felt like an arm‟s length away,
as we got to face the „one‟ on
the moon with the help of a
mysterious raise from the dust
we stood.
In the spree, we were awed
by the awful look of things; he
had his eyes on his chest and
his mouth on his palms. Here
we were, faced with "The
bloke,‟ that ordered our –
manumit be granted, back to
Earth. He spoke to us;
“Go tell the Earth, you met the
ghost on the moon.”
He then released us with a
fiercely driven wind that
conveyed us speedily to earth
On earth,
It was cold.
Our legs quivered and our
bodies shook uncontrollably,
ready to receive our souls from
traceless paths – we had
trailed off to.
We gasped,
Faces meet -
On the same bed
As sibs – we asked ourselves;
“did you meet the same Ghost
on the moon?”
Yes! We echoed conjointly
and ran shrilly to our parents to
narrate our dream.
- Uwen Precious O.
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