The Call Of The Wild Poem by Kojo Owusu

The Call Of The Wild



The wild calls, the howling storm
And the fevered thunderbolts
Gauzily veil dark,
Covering the sky
The sudden crack above
An ominous presentiment
The damp hearth
Must relent
When the primal mastodons
And gods and goddesses
In cracks and grooves calls
The wild ploughs a path
For wandering soul
Lost in the delirium
Of the unknown.

The eaves are soaked tonight
With blood from above
And my hut threatens to fall
What fiery god passes in the wind
Bending the oak trees
Flashing lightening in the dark
And deafening roar

The wild calls
The primeval columns and rocks
Where footfall from the
Hearth is not left dissolute

Now on the threshold
Impatient to plunge
Into the roaring cold
And darkness and thunder
A dim prospect
Of the hut
The inconstant oily glow
Swaying in the wind
Refusing to yield
On the bed lies your demure body
Innocent fervor
Indifferent to the storm

I am not decrepit
I would not change the wonder
Of the tatters
The wild calls
And your attractive charms
Beckons silently to my soul



But I know what
The delicate body would do
I know the harm it would
Cause when it awakes
I know what the courtyard
The piecing voices
Would do when
The storm subsides.

The wild calls
And I must wander
In to its dark depths
The wild calls
And I must relent.

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