Poetry

‘A Ghostly Voyage’ and other poems by afrophilus

By: afrophilus

A Ghostly Voyage

Sunk beneath gloomy shadows,
With my radiant smile transformed into a sulking grim
I took a journey down memory lane.
How ghostly the chasm that separates now from before?

Besetting me like a whirlwind,
Drove me around like a storm,
I was the blind seer who wouldn’t see what was before him,
I took a bite of the sugarcoated gall. My travail began.

I ventured into winds of needless self-indulgence,
It swept me over with the violence of a hurricane,
Knocked me down with the weight of her pleasure.
The proverbial dog that wouldn’t heed the whistle of her owner.

It was the norm of the jungle,
Smoke was the sun that burned our skins in the day,
Sex the star that led us through the night.
Albeit, who can keep fire in his bosom?

Solomon ended this voyage with multi-vanities,
Samson, his with death.
If only I can have either,
I’d be happier than singing angels.

###

To the One Who Never Comes

Turning and turning in widening torrent
With silhouettes and shadows singing to grey walls,
I sat on her favorite spot,
In this kingly prison.

A stone may be made soft,
From the incessant fury of patience.
But does hopeless hope,
Not make a merry soul weary?

I have waited for the warm arms
That caressed my infant head
When I laid on this colorful cradle.
But it seems the stone on fire has more hopes than I do.

Sing again to me the tune of a waiting soul,
Where lies the laughter in my darkest days?
When will summer shine again?
When will love come again?

###

Witch-for-Hire

Rainbows, they don’t shine all day,
Humans, we cry sometimes.
When life came at you
And your roses withered
I was the shadow that wouldn’t leave.

Days when your neck couldn’t hold your head,
I was a shoulder for your woes,
But never for once
An ally for your joy.
Or a witness of our smile.

Curiosity perches on the shrubs of my heart,
Does the sun shine only when it rains?
Why do I see you only when you cry?
Have I been tears-zoned?

Away flies the merry summer bird?
Albeit, be sure she soon will be back
With swollen eyes from tears I did not cause
From griefs that stems from knowhere.

Change is inevitable,
I refuse to be her witch-for-here

Categories: Poetry

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