Wild Thoughts | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 235: WILD THOUGHTS
you sit by the river of flooding ideas
and watch your your thoughts run wild

you lend your limbs to the wind
and with the wings of many eagles
you take your flight into distant 'what-if-lands'

silence shut out the voices that beckon
to distract your peak focus
from off the eye of the bull

shoot you must!
so on you day dream realities

you exhale and shun the desires that flaw
tomorrow's bliss with doubt traps

suddenly you yield
you flop
you are carried by the wind downwards
your mouth spread to protests
but words are lost

you say nothing,
you give up
you fall

yet, in the valley of this emptiness
bereft of help above and hope below
you roam like hungry rodents in a churchyard

you wander aimless into more traps
you circle same mountain over amd over
and wonder why there seem to be no end rhyme to this verse

but you don't give in to giving up
you raise your head above your neck
and.imagine yourself in a flood of thoughts

you picture memories to be made
and dreams once lost to the downfall
come flooding back like flashbacks

and all of them, yours

so you fly home with the wings of many eagles

you return and stand by the same shore
from whence you took off

instead of mockery and jeers
an ovation of bowed heads and cheers
ring the welcome song
to your wild thoughts

thing is, you must dream
and envision that which you desire.

don't let the now and trivial
take away your heart from just courses

be alert
stay focus
don't lose your wings to chicken crumbs
there's a victual for you on the mountain top

dream wild
don't die

#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA

Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.
I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Comments

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...

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold patriotis...

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....

Jaachi Writes

Search This Blog