Galloping Horse Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Galloping horse,
ride me
through
this pot-holed
winding road,

a stroking,
brushing
journey uphill,

a sun perched
on a hill's
green crown
spraying seaweed
feathers

to spin you
into a tilted flight
burying
your forelocks

in deep
soft valleys,

as you climb
a rocky
staircase into
another boulder
on a mound,

hills stretching further
into fern
and shamrock
mountains

devoured by the crocodile
mouths of rock

and spat out
by light
through a fern forest.

(ii)

Stretching
into and interwoven
jungle,

a horse groaning
and snorting,
while a gale sprays

green leaves
to soothe us
with the confetti
of a bouncing

stretch of rolling
swinging
bends, a wedding
still flung
into the clouds
of distance

measured
in ant steps
on creeping wings,

even as we fly
with wind and storm

on the wheels
of throttled desire
and breath
tugged
by a star

on a mountain's crown
still out of reach,

as I rise and head for
a stroking hug
in the arms of shrubby
branches

waving flaming flowers
along a mountain stretch,
singing canaries
dying in burnt-out nests.