Soundtrack To My Sun Poem by Onyi Ogwumike

With round planets of black vinyl
Crashing against my rigid, crimson
Walls of frustration.
Their notes breaking in a cacophony of dissatisfaction,
Cutting and scratching my pleading,
Bleeding,
Ear drum.
Do Sound and Melody no longer sympathize with my human race?
In the Sun’s embrace
Do I dwell,
My eyes humming in deep orange euphoria,
My skin being brushed with his lips,
My tongue light with honey dew drops scattered across my plains,
My environment is filled with the sweet smell of bliss
(A slight hint of passion, and I do detect a rose-kissed breeze rising from the south)
All my senses take flight in a heavenly serenity,
Except my hearing.
Being nailed to the rocky earth,
With unsatisfying meager comforts.
What song thwarts my nimble, agile fingers?
What song tortures my nights?
One comprised with his steady heartbeat setting the beat,
To be joined by his symphonous breath,
And later by the kind sounds of love rippling through his deep,
Dark ponds,
His eyes.
His smile,
His soft caress upon the heart I place in his hands.
Lying in his safe house,
Under the dangling stars that hang from the trees in his soul,
Do I ponder:
Where is the soundtrack to my Sun?