It's Evening Poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Crouching this evening is the cloud of the day
Receding above, the lurid, sleeping star
Which has learnt to blink its majesty

Returning on flight race, bleached atoms of heaven,
Black stars arousing conundrums among
Heathens of a bombarded community.

Slow-twirling of the shroud like patterns of
Surrealism - stretching forth in cold drips of the
Night's weeping dark carols.

I make to gather my pebbles on ground-dispersions.
A hurl to their banks! Each bark of the night -
Heaven's decibels, done at the rear of black stars.

In progression, the black stars litter spots on
Heaven's leopard. Shroud, now like a regent's,
Closes on. Now, I know it's evening.