Cultural Dream Poem by Tunji Ibrahim

Unable to make concealment for being the cynosure of all eyes, the belle without her adonis... being perished in the shauri of pathological nature, in the halcyon sphere of the hades, the quietus, one of stygian odyssey not inapplicable to all. Fermented in the sacrament of hallowed culture, and the unwonted path that failed this moment. The patrician elders came, saying the medicine that works not requires yet the addition of a leaf. A sufuria carries out its duty at the expense of live fire. The widow's right to woo another studmuffin inherent in the necessity to swim in the aqua of copulation with her deceased husband in the splash of a briny dream, whose anticipated content of verbal precipitation would be divulged and honoured within the grip of an authorized few. Sleep hit each night, belying the direction of brittle cultural haven... not the culture but the young widow that had to be diagnosed. Let her be equipped with her beauty, her chignon, some seemingly quirky succotash and brisket within the context of her hubby's fav: to liberalize the pavlovian urge through the incipient verbena of dream, she would carry her feet tranquilly to the very grave, to the Shangri-La in Lost Horizon, where in firm quietness her love was laid.