River's Never-Ending Song Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Jungle of waves,
raise skyscraper's brows.
High waves hills and slopes
to furrows running
to a bumped hard carriageway.

On the road
in its drifting mass,
a breeze shifts gears to a gust -
chant to bowing trees
on bank, chorus for singing birds.

Down the strait,
rolls down galloping
on stones. Over rock and shrub,
sun spraying floor gold
as clouds devour teal stretched tail.

On fern street
slide through loud-mouthed gale,
sailing birds' voices, slimmed. Chopped.
Avenue stretched out
into jade unfolding mats.

(ii)

Waves steep hills.
Water ballooned high,
Fisherman rides air and stream.
In a growing gale
groans with mane, sprinting storm wave.

Hills and slopes,
As head rides higher
Churning angles to slice through,
canoe, jumping dance
towing fisherman to shore.

Hills and slopes,
canoe flung ashore
by bobbing branches planted firm
to push back punches,
the fisherman a firm tree.

Hills and slopes,
wind flows on stream's chest.
Let's cut through logs of high waves,
As sun nose-dives deep
into sea's ditch, life rising.

And rising
back to wave-eroded
strait, the kingfisher flying
through dark groaning fog,
the river never stifling song.