Of Death Poem by Adeosun Olamide

One sharpens
-Twirls us- to and fro
Announces presence-
Raising storms
In roar and hush then roar-
It calls- to fortify shelter
But in darkness ever cast
We heed- fulfilling the calls
As does on its illusions
An illusion, a light in reach
And on- clinging,
Grasping the figment
Twirls still- to and fro
In illusion that make seem
The storm halts, too- the dark
And absorbed in-
The curtain is raised-
But still in the wake, the silence
It gasps,
-The death
Who -now gave flair to fight
Hinging on edge a victory
And there- when thought muddle through
-Swallows
Startling us-

And there is the death that dwells ‘neath a wine
A death that guards and protects in war-
A cook -in want a meal
Aye to- we be meal
And does now -desiring undone
Stirring when victory is art
-From the flies of wine-
Dwells on- veiled in a fever-
Bringing to hear the medals chime-
To swallow- as the medals chime on-
It is the death that awaits at the shores
The death that grasp as hold the knob
The death that takes on night a delivery

And then there is another
It knocks the door then hides
It comes not in peace,
A playful one-
It shows itself then disappears
And leaves you expectant-
Ever in twirl of unease
It does- that you die long before your death
And makes of your air a grave
It gives- that the sun could burn you out-
Or the lamp could-
That a gale seeks you
That a meal could poison you-
Or that the cable could electrocute you
And in that darkness, in that fear
It eats you raw- from the rear

There are other deaths too
There is a death sudden, -a death quick
-A winter in the heat of summer
An immerse cloud waiting for the rising sun
And there is the death that comes to save
A death that grieves at the torment we bear
A death that comes with love-
-And there is the death that blesses
A death the prince craves- to help deliver the throne
A death a wife calls- to help take away the shackles
A death a brother yearns- for his siblings
A death the masses calls to-
But this death don't usually heed-
Unless it is pulled from hidings-
And it hides ‘neath a wine
On the edge of a knife-
Under the pillow he lays- head
And that the masses call is lured by a revolt

And there are deaths
-Unknown