Poetry

April 25, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Kolawole Oluwanifemi

 

 

TALE OF FOUR DAYS (Lazarus)

 

 

I am alive

…and let him go

Bound in linens spun in yards

My vision blur to take in reality

My arms twitch to grasp life

 

My eyes open to probing ones of

Sisters, Friend and onlookers too

I tell them the tale

My tale of four days

How darkness engulfed me

 

Scarlet or crimson red

I could not discern

Deep into thick gloss I went

Nothing to hold me back

From destination unknown

 

An echo came at its wake

The voice of a Friend I could tell

One that had borne the

Grief of my loss

That had wept wearied by pain

 

…come forth!“, I heard

A call to be and live

How could I ignore?

With urgency my feet moved

Me away from oblivion

 

They tell me also of

Their tale of four days

How sobs did no soothe

None to console who was

In a mood of gloom

 

How Friend did not budge

While I laid maimed

How He lingered after my body laid

He waited four sunsets

To bring sound of hope from afar

 

I did die

My soul strayed

My body stunk

But at the wake of hope

I now live, I’m alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HERE AND THERE

 

 

Here, we hear of famine

That scourges and razes sanity

We hear of sicknesses

And diseases with no names

 

Here, the waters rebel

The land shakes and takes up

The firmament thins

Unshielding the sun of its fury

 

Here, fear engrosses

Worries of what tomorrow will be

Force and manipulation become means

To acquire what one so wants

 

Here, promises are made

For the sole purpose to break

Betrayal by kins

Lips that kiss bearing vials of poison

 

There, peace abounds

We hear of a tree that sows health

A fountain that springs healing

The light always brimming

 

There, a king rules

Along with His Son in the affairs

The elders, a score and four

Lay crowns and bow on all fours

 

There, a cherubic throng

And creatures unnamed

Hail unending

The One that sits on the throne

 

There, beauty glows

Semblances of Jasper and gold

Grace the lone street

Even beyond description

 

There, where He’s gone to prepare

For those His will doth

Whom His presence thirsts

Wheat and sheep, branches with fruits

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Kolawole Oluwanifemi

Kolawole Oluwanifemi is a graduate of Transport Management who loves reading and speaking. She’s a freelance budding writer that has authored a number of short stories, flash fictions and poems. She is a Nigerian that writes for fun and doesn’t mind her works making marks in the world.
Her contact mail is bovkolawole@gmail.com.

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