Skip to main content

Nineteen Verses Of Sorrow | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu


POEM 324: 19 VERSES OF SORROW

i still dream about my lover
crossing 7 rivers on her old boat,

rowing ripples of sorrow,
formed by droplets of tears

that moon-walked down her cheeks,
like silver lines in dark clouds

running like water fall, down a hill,
falling with deep sighs, with each clock tick

every drop into the river sings a song
as she rows along:

'take me deeper than my fears/
do not taste like my tears/
fare me well to yonder shores/
do not draw me to his voice'

too late

there were days of sunshine and plenty,
when the wind was art and poetry,
how much of him was loved?

there were days when rain was heavy,
when affection was your vanity,
how much of him was loved?

now, by untamed naivety
and itchy ears of the gullible laity,
you laid off, like Jonah,
the plot of your journal,

tell me,
how far are you from where he drowned?
not long, yet you miss him sore?

for along you row,
deep he sank and swam,
calling and pleading and hoping
you'd, for past's sake, heed

but your sadness waved back,
like stray dogs wave tails,
you couldn't, again bark,
when you met your fears,

not so long a time,
'time is the balm'
you claimed, but look, dear dame,
who's got no healing

i still dream about my lover
crossing 7 rivers on her old boat,

on lonely nights of cold
and faint moon lightning

her voice floating in the wind
that swishes west to east,

while an interlude of distant thunder,
rumble in low solemn tones
the song she left unsung:

'take me deeper than my fears/
do not taste like my tears/
fare me well to yonder shores/
do not draw me to his voice'

#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA

Enjoyed reading? 
Please leave a comment and share with friends.
Thank you!
 

Comments

  1. That drew me in instantly, it's like you were painting a picture and I was part of it... You're one of the best poets I've ever read, ever!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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....

Poemify | Haiku Writing

A haiku ( pronounced high-koo ) is short three-line poem that uses sensory language to capture a feeling or image. Haiku poetry was originally developed by Japanese poets. They are often inspired by nature, a moment of beauty, or poignant experience. Before I dive deep, I'd love to say this: I believe some of us here know what haiku is and what 'rules' there be that guide haiku writing. That's beautiful. We are here to learn, unlearn and relearn. So, I'd rather you keep your knowledge aside and learn something new today. Alright? Okay, let's walk over Jericho. Haiku is a Japanese verse in three lines. Line one has 5 syllables, line 2 has 7 syllables and line three has 5 syllables. Haiku is a mood poem and it doesn't use any metaphors or similes. Usually when haiku is taught, poets are only given the restriction of the number of lines and syllables. However, for good haiku poetry, more explanation needs to be given. This lecture is for poets who are willing...