What manner of eulogy shall we accord
to the preening lilies and the luxuriant green grass
whose pulchritude arrays the vast lea of this cosmos?
If not tortured via sunbathing of the fiery solar stare;
would they not be teased by the cruel gust of frigid wind?
If not bruised under nonchalant feet sauntering by;
the sickles or wicked blades of tractors, spurred to act,
would shave off the glory — how transient!
as the packed debris becomes indigene of the dunghill
How wisdom subtly screams through pervading mouth
of nature out there, projecting parable of vain figures
on this stage, preening in garb of fresh days…
The prominent men sprout claws of greed, more crooked
than the fiery hawk’s and fist unto this placid ball
shrinking out its water and honey of repose —
oblivious of the yawning crater of the hungry soil
munching insight of an imminent end…
O voracious one gulping flesh of both legend & mediocre
Mortal philosophy might have thought it out;
“if the clumps of grasses be weeded, sprout not another?”
but know, a time, odd, awaits this vast fertile lea
when the sun shall cease, and darkness engulf the land
and the moon which ought to console the tried cloud
hovering above, itself would weep blood!
And hubbub of wailing be heard protruding from mazed lips
of the perilous day’s doomed grass left on the lea…
one day, abruptly, the cosmic ceremonies will end!
Beyond Our Dreams
like the rock of Gibraltar are man’s aspirations
at night, to and fro, his heart frantically strolls.
now, the diurnal light blazes through his curtain
a clarion call heed, his restive corpse leaps like a panther
and his muscles yet resume the incessant toils
as when a vehicle raises voice of unmanaged fatigue
and the driver keeps damning even if it screeches to a final halt!
the mouth of the aftermath awaits to muster:
you’ve been chasing shadows in a circle, alas! soon,
all is heading into the dungeon of extinction, says the sage.
squint your inner eyes around, all is ridden with labour
mouth can’t tell it all! hard breath smokes out of man’s nostrils
desperation boils in the blood as the limbs of time tick…
its beat pressure in folly holds our minds, for no philosopher
can augur the eyes of tomorrow; what if the nocturnal king
refuses to get off the throne for aurora light to takeover?
still, none would feel his frail heart as that candle flame
that could be blown out in no time in the face of life’s storms.
but our warring greed darkens our sane mentality, battling
to cart away our pilgrimage’s focus towards eternity;
leaving with us booties of excess luggage, sojourning
on this shore of vanity; destination unknown!
a chap’s blood is spilled on the altar of another’s deadly pursuit,
earthly treasures become poisonous to harvest…
but, as distanced is the sun’s home to planet earth
i see the thought of the Creator, for man, conquering time
the wisdom screaming of the eternity, beyond our dreams.
his verdict is final! let mortal wisdom protest still;
all must dance to nature’s beat, answering
the Greatest clarion call one day!
OLAJUWON JOSEPH OLUMIDE is an award-winning Nigerian author, English Language instructor and musician. He holds a degree in Mass Communication and has works published on several platforms including Minute Magazine, PIN Journal, Words Rhymes & Rhythm, Etn 21, EBOquill, African Writers Reviews, and Arts Lounge. Olajuwon, a winner of the Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest in 2015, 2016 and 2018, is the author of Walking the ‘Pathway of Excellence’ (self-help, 2020) and ‘Beyond our Dreams’ (poetry, 2020). He lives in Ogun State.