Monday, October 10, 2016

: Poetry: Olongo

One bright beautiful morning,
On bed as I lay in mid-sleep;
Once more, a familiar sweetest music plays 
Off a cooing bird; perhaps in joyous awakening
Or just arrived to roost from a nocturnal flight.


Waxing and wafting;
Wafting and waxing;
Bursting my sleep logged brain
As of a finely strung Banjo gently coaxed
Pouring forth many soulful strains;
Or my beloved diva: Erykah,
Baduing arrow through me.

How it quickens me to rise anew
Like Olongo* happy for the divine blessing 
Of good health and such belief immemorial:
A Sick bird is never found roosting. Never!

Up in the clutches
Of some curious muse and efforts:
Does it make her nest along my roof presently perched 
Or on a giant Oak tree afar? I wondered!
Whence it enduringly arises
To observe such a daily ritual.

Through the mesh of my window net I
Stood enthralled by its giggly stunts:
Fluttering high and low undistracted
Fixated widly pecking it mirrored self
Across the window-pane next door.

In some instructive spectacle 
Of open-arm excitement
Triggered by something only real
In dreams and imagination.
Reminiscent of unwean suckling babes;
Girls come of age ;
And lovers helplessly dissolve in sissling love;
Beaming with broad smiles and titters and kicks
Smarten by the presence of an adoring soulmate. 

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