Akeredolu tpoe

WE ARE POETS!
I guess that’s what we do!
We look far away to horizon buried beneath
Closed hearts
We listen to the pump from tired pulmonary
And forge out songs from aching mouths
We teach news song and replace the old
With new notes from the piano of experience
We heal
We hear even from unspoken fears
We lead
We love with power so fierce
We pour out fledging realities
To feed souls
souls who must be pulled out from deep
Within the abyss
From within Hades bossom
We teach love even as amateurs
We breath in the blue rays of the traveling skies
hoping to drink from nature’s boundless seas
And leap up to embrace life
To forge new dances to her discordant tunes
As we made to escape
Like air from punctured balloon
From our food we also feed
Since were are mortal who often fail
Whose hearts also harbour just enough fear
Of yesterday’s fire
Whose smokes blurs the vision of tomorrow
Enough hurts
With impact so strong
Hearts wrench to stop like a metal under crank
Forgive! if Muse sometimes fails to sing through us
Since We also yearn for our own poets
From the lonely worker ploughing the field
To the tired trader calling out the reluntant buyer
from the single mother with untold worries
Of the prying eyes and running mouths of the jobless earth
To the student whose stories of failure out classes
Even Hannibal’s exploits
But with such matchless resolve as to uproot
Kilimanjaro from her majestic throne
Perhaps we had consumed all the healing Muse had to give
For oftentimes we yearn for that which we
we hope to draw hope from a look at the world
Atop Himalayas and soak in fresh breath
Under a lonely pine
And join in the song of the cockoo bird
To open our mouth and drink from the chilling dews
From a rose doting the meadows
And lend hand to a trapped deer as we traverse
Green lands under our blue skies
Hi love
We are poets
poets whose humanity manifest in his craft.

 A STREET HAWKER

That black tray that balances on her head
Is the sea from which she must fish
The blue purse tied around her fragile waist
Is the harpoon to wade off street sharks
The previous night
A bitter creditor had thrown tantrum at mama
She had called her hopeless
One whose porous bossom cannot keep a man
One whose fallopian tube retains so much fliud
A baby must come from every sport
So on this day she went with a rigour unmatched
From pillar to post like a troubadour
With special dexterity she leapt at every beckon
Rivalling even the minaret with her voice
The sorrow in the call
the melancholy
The fear of the war home
All made for a girl conceal behind shattered shells
A girl whose little head housed the dinner of a dozen
Whose pulmonary pumps out unwept sorrows
From Broken dreams and drab days filled with half sleeps on tired floors
The walls of the school want to hug her
To touch and teach her precocious soul
To light that little flame lurking in the depth of her heart
But since she must with reluctance embrace her tray
If  she must not frail
From lack of love and leading light

And since she did not know
The monster who poured the milk of her conception
He had left mama when all she was
Was a fragile little nymph

Akeredolu tpoe, obtained is bachelor’s degree in English language from AAUA. He works as English language instructor at St Gregory college ikare and writes poetry at night. His works have appeared in African writer, Indian periodical and are forthcoming in Antarctica journal and ink and sweats. He lives with is family in Ikare Akoko southwest Nigeria- the town of the twin mountain.