How again else
do
our eyes these
dauntless drops drum of sorrow
but that
we never really ever
know Joshua—
being
with us always—till the end of Time,
with us since that immemorial mutinous morning
when our visceral vanity
vies
for his sacrosanct ascendancy
and he by crass custom just jaunting, unsuspecting,
the length and breadth of Eden
stumbles
upon the debacled dethronement cowering aback the figs
at the solemn sound of his afore-friendly footfalls
later that oh noisome noon
whenceforth he
inscribes
our brow with sweat,
plugs
our heart with Alarm-clock
whose ever timely tick since
triggers
our diabetic dusk prompt
to drum
upon, then, our already sodden crust
an incongruous deluge
dauntless as these drops turbulent
from our eyes
hang heavy with sorrow?
the dark smoke of his death sooted the glittering surface of the joy which girded my heart... You've done an excellent work... R. I. P Achebe.
heart with alarm-cloak. good image. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For Chinua Achebe i would like to say he will always stay alive in his words and works...he justifies being the son of his native soil... though i have read only one work Things Fall Apart, still there is a desire to read more of his works...his marked features are the use of language and the adages of his oral culture...i love these: WHEN A MAN SAYS YES, HIS CHI SAYS YES TOO.......... & PROVERBS ARE THE PALM OILS WITH WHICH WORDS ARE EATEN... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - a great writer of life and attitudes! ! ! and this is a great poem! ! !