Poetry

 

 

By

Wole Oguntola

 

 

To The Whirlwind

(To Boko Haram)

 

 

The grotesque griffin of grief

Wakes a dread at nightfall;

Tall like the Eiffel Tower in France.

 

And we’ve heard enough

Of echoes roaming our streets.

For this, our heart is stolen

To the faceless shadows…

 

Lest they come confessing

Out of complicity of concealment

Of their violent revolt!

 

Like the Eiffel Tower in France,

This rises, our troubles overflow.

 

And you know how much

It costs to lose to the whirlwind;

The heart and flesh that make you.

And to these households,

Feel the pains-

Now shared with you…

And free your tomorrow

Stolen from you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stinking State

(travelling experience across southwest Nigeria)

 

 

At the early morning crow

We set forth at dawn

To beat the slow transit trail

Along the mouth-hole of the Earth.

 

We drove the normal

In the stately dementia

Of the stately highway, left alone!

Waiting anxiously in lethargic equilibrium.

 

We moved into its inertia

From our close distant journey.

 

One strange but patriotic instinct

Led us hospitably-

To inspect the creeping refuse

Incited to run by the lead of flood

In their busiest wanderlust travelling.

 

A malodorous odour, suddenly

Came through anus of the air.

 

We snuffed enough at searching

Its direction into cloudy confusion.

 

We chose a path at random

To sight such stinking guinea fowl.

 

We met stationed streets dwindling.

Clumsy drainages, and came across

Host of homes in their stinking state.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To The Stones

 

 

To the stones I’ve thrown above the eyes.

To them I level the earth.

I’m at peace own end.

To the river I bid farewell when thunder slipped through the fence!

To it I’ve humbled my feet.

I own much to the elements.

 

Storm be still!

I know the incantation of the sun.

Heat be gone!

Nothing shall be a child to the chain.

Freedom, please be free.

Let song at twilight take me home.

Let the stone dance to it parting rhythm.

And truly, I’ve thrown a stone.

One hard to believe.

And the world is a sea!

For good to grace, and evil to hide;

For mercy to maim and fall by the wind

I’ve dared fury in its scope.

But I know.

Nothing lives forever .

The battle is over once the scenes are fair.

But I know

Yes I know.

Only truth will not slip in the hand of time.

When fusion of fraction forms alliance,

Against allies of peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wole Oguntola

Wole Oguntola is a poet with two intermittent swords, as well as a short story writer, satirist and critic; whose poems have been published home and abroad. He is also a member of the Association of Nigerian Authors.